Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Let'sa go!))

Iosif was running short on cigars, which meant two things: one, that he was going to savor his last cigar for as long as he could manage, and two, he wasn't too pleased at present. Usually when Iosif was displeased it meant bad things for the city of Chicago, but seeing how Iosif was no longer in Chicago, nor quite in the position to be picking off some of Chicago's more choice lowlifes. No, unfortunately Iosif was walking towards a circus tent at the moment, chewing his cigar and looking somewhat out of place in his suspenders and tie. Made life easier though - the crowds virtually parted to allow Iosif to make his way through, and in no time he had lifted the flap to one of the tents and ducked under.

Smelled kind of musty, bouqet of fairy floss. Iosif had cotton candy once, but that was a long time ago, and he couldn't quite remember what it tasted like.

"This circus?" he asked, not to anyone in particular. His eye hadn't yet adjusted and he couldn't quite tell who was in the tent.

((Hope that's okay, XD. Kind of flying blind here.))

She didn't sound too sure, but Iosif decide to give Ankita the benefit of the doubt. He squinted his eye at her, lips pursed sideways in what looked to be a strange combination of a grimace and a grin. "Is good, I am lookin' for circus and I find it, eh? Maybe my eye not so bad after all." He turned his head to the side, blew out a plume of filmy smoke from the corner of his mouth. It looked almost practiced.

"Iosif Davidovich. Uh - Zaslavsky. I fill out application, got notice to come back yes? I shoot things." Instinctively, his hand slid under his jacket to where his gun gun was located, tucked away in its shoulder holster. His grin widened into something a little more unnerving. "Who I go to talk to about work?"

((Hoo boy I've been making a lot of typos :C. I blame it on no sleep XD))

Ankita's comprehension wasn't helped by the fact that Iosif's accent was thick enough to cut with a knife. What little English he spoke coherently was usually so garbled by his Russian accent that Iosif repeated things out of a force of habit when he saw people looking confused, and Ankita didn't seem to quite understand what he was saying. Still, Iosif let it slide for the time being, as Ankita changed the subject smoothly and Iosif was more than willing to follow along.

"Yes! Very good, I shoot many things. Best shot in great city of Chicago, yes?" He shaped his hand like a pistol and jerked his wrist back, as if he had just fired off a bullet. "Bang." he added, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. If Iosif was making Ankita uncomfortable he was completely unaware, a point made obvious as he leaned in close to her and raised his eyebrows.

"You look like girl who sing in Pear Bar. I play piano for her, she had most beautiful voice you ever hear - encores every night, my fingers nearly bled! You sing?" he asked, stuffing is hands into his pockets.

"You have not gone to Chicago? What thing is wrong with you? Best city in whole great nation of America! Avoid lower district however, because Finnegans have the control in there, and the Finns are lousy bunch of stupid shits, eh? One time I got Finn cornered and he spit in my face and I tell you, very rude."

There was a lull in Iosif's rambling as he took another drag off his cigar and tipped his head back, blowing smoke heavenward. Thank God for good cigars, even if their numbers were waning. He finally leaned away from Ankita, tapping ash off the end of his cigar and grinning wistfully. "Early days, eh? They go, they come, mostly they go. Never the mind, it is past." he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I play, yes. Not only best shooter in Chicago, I also best pianist!"

There had been a better one, but Iosif knew he was dead. Not by Iosif's hand, mind you - he wasn't the kind of person who disposed of bodies in rivers. Not classy enough.

"No singin' though, eh? What you do then?"

Iosif paused for a moment to digest Ankita's answers. Paxia was not something he had ever heard of, but geography was never his forté. "Fortune telling eh? Like gypsies I met once, from Romania. They travel through our area and they tell me that I going to be very rich man like my father is. One kind of smell - uh, like alcohol, yeah? Nice people."

Content in his decision that Ankita was one of these gypsies, Iosif raised his eyebrows at her next question. He didn't want to admit that he hadn't really touched a piano in the past five years, but eh, it didn't really matter. Iosif wasn't much of a liar anyway. "Good pianist? Feh! The best. Years back, in the past. I not play so much lately, yes? Got business to run. But you find piano, I play! Jazzy stuff, very popular." He moved his hands over an invisible keyboard, cigar dangling in his mouth.

Iosif was intrigued when Ankita brought up the subject of the animal draped around her neck. Iosif had noticed it but had assumed it was only a fur - now he realized it was alive and he leaned in close, grin widening. "Is living? Oh hoh! HELLO LITTLE ANIMAL." One massive hand reached out to pat Sarava - Iosif wasn't too afraid of getting bitten, or too oblivious to realize it could happen.

The Russian's grin only stretched further, turning somewhat more crooked as Iosif pat the familiar's fur; his touch was surprisingly delicate, and he more tapped her head daintily than anything else. Things that were small, furry, and cute tended to be right up Iosif's alley - he had a secret fondness for animals that he rarely allowed himself to indulge. Still, no one was around aside from this new girl, so who was here to judge? Hah!

"Sarava," Iosif said, testing out the sound and drawing out the syllables as if he were tasting them. "Is very pretty name - is pretty animal! Hello, Sarava." He gave the reluctant familiar one final pat and straightened, pulling the cigar out from his mouth and rolling it idly between his fingers.

"She is Sarava, yes? Okay. You are who then?" Iosif asked. He had finally realized that Ankita had never told him her name.

Iosif gave Ankita a withering stare, expression surprisingly sedate compared to its previous manic status. After a brief, however awkward, period of silence, Iosif suddenly brightened and stuck his hand somewhere in the vicinity of Ankita's face so that she might shake it.

"Iosif Zaslavsky! I said once, eh? Maybe you not catch it - is a lot of sounds, I am knowing this!" Nevermind that he had already introduced himself, Iosif didn't mind repeating the action. How often did one get to make two introductions anyway? Delighted by the turn of events, Iosif bowed to Ankita, though his was much deeper and intentionally dramatic.

"Is pleasure!" he blustered, beaming from ear to ear.

Iosif's hand practically swallowed Ankita's whole, but his handshake was warm and his tone even warmer. "Is perfectly all right! I forget the name of yours already anyway, so is no matter, little Anuchka." No matter Ankita's real name - she was Anuchka from now on, a sort of nickname for girls named "Anna." Ankita's name was close enough, and Anuchka sounded better to Iosif's ears.

Curious that she hadn't seen his hand! It had been hovering right in front of her eyes, hadn't it? Once he had thoroughly (and rather vigorously) shaken Ankita's hand up and down, Iosif pulled his own away and gave the fortune teller a bemused look. She must've seen it. Perhaps it just took a while to register!

"Relax!" Iosif crowed suddenly, and he clapped his hands on to Ankita's shoulders and gave her an emphatic shake. A hoarse laugh bubbled up in Iosif's throat as he finally stopped shaking her and moved his hands away. Girl seemed awfully tightly wound for some reason!