bucuresti | †002 - Definitely not allergic to garlic.

[Mihail decided that he needed to get around to cooking something. Back at home, this time of year yields some of the best food his country has to offer. Lucky for him, he's got the blessing of being a pretty decent cook. However, this only really applies to food from his region (Romanian food is more like Turkish, Russian, Ukrainian, and German food combined) so things like hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and pizza aren't exactly within his...skills.

So he's going at making any number of things, specifically mamaliga (Romanian "peasant" cornbread that goes great with sour cream), frigarui (really spiced up kebabs), and of all things, baklava. There seems to be a cloud of garlic powder and any number of spices floating around him, and there's a gratuitous amount of pork, among other meat. Romanians like their meat, y'know.

This is more like stress relief for him, other than just traditional winter cooking time. He hasn't had the best month and he's just gotten over being sick for the umpteenth time, so cooking seems like an awesome stress reliever.

He's more than willing to share (his inner Romanian grandma will probably say you look too skinny and then shove some mamaliga in your mouth), but there is a degree of acquired taste to this stuff, except maybe the baklava.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

{He nods, taking a seat at the table again.}

Your cooking isn't half bad, Mihail.

Well, thank you, Dimitri. []

{He chuckles, taking another sip of wine and digging in. This is delicious, almost better than Chernobyl's donuts! Ha makes a happy noise with each bite.}

[]

{Taking another sip of wine, he takes a final bite.}

прелестный...may I have some more?

{ooc:*delicious}

Of course. []

{He smiles, taking a forkful of the pastry.}

I have a problem...and I think that maybe you can help me with it.

[]

...Oh?

{He sighs, tapping his fork on the plate lightly. He thinks over how to ask the question properly.}

How do you become a better person?

[]

Why would you...be asking me?

Ever since the new year, I have been asking many people. And I have gotten mixed results. {Taking a sip of wine, he looks over the rim of his glass.}

Just answer the question.

Um... Being polite, perhaps? Or at least more friendly and accommodating.

I see. {He sighs}Это последний раз, когда я сделаю резолюции новогоднее...

[ooc:*This is the last time I will make New Year's resolution.]

I, um...

I would've thought you'd understand that. You and Yuri are friends, da...the boy should teach you a thing or two.
I said something along the lines of sticking my foot in my mouth.

My Russian is...limited, I should say. []

Don't ask questions...I just have my way of knowing these things~ {He chuckles.}
But is it really that important as to how I know?

No, I suppose it isn't. It's just a bit more surprising.

I may not seem like I care about my surroundings...but I do, Mihail. I am watching every move, everyone makes. If I didn't do that, that would paint me as a terrible pakhan.
{His tone transitions from cold and threatening, back to it's light and airy tone.}
Though I just bet it would be surprising, and the element of surprise is the best weapon to use against those that oppose me. Just be nice to Dearest Yuri; neither I nor Nebby would much like it if you hurt him. {He smiles, returning to his sweets.}
This is really delicious though, could you teach me how to make it sometime?

[ooc:*Pakhan is the title given to Russian Mafia bosses.]

[]

O-of course I can, Moscow.

{Moscow fails to do that to anyone; even when he doesn't mean to. He smiles bright though, oh joy and another cooking teacher!}

I'll have to warn you, I am a very bad cook.