The Russian dragged his heels as he walked, not paying much mind to anything. He had given the cupcake to his father as he had asked, but apparently it was "t' sv'eet" for him. It had tasted fine to him, personally; fine enough for him to eat it. Even if his eating wasn't entirely... nice.<br/><br/>He paused suddenly as he noted a slight dribble of something on the ground, the red spots dropping on the concrete causing him to feel his bottom lip. He had managed to, once again, pierce the skin with that troublesome, golden fang of his.<br/><br/>Muttering under his breath, hunched up, he continued along his way. He should be able to reach the coffee shop soon if he wasn't distracted.<span style="font-style: italic"> H'pef'lly she'll be th're.... </span>