[h2][color=9e0039]Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka[/color][/h2]
Vlad, to be frank, was quite shocked at the extreme reaction from the shark Faunus. Shocked enough, in fact, that he did little more than stare slightly slack-jawed at her display after the fact, barely noticing the hit to his chest with a riding crop. How dare she claim his breath smelled bad? Maybe he had just finished lunch, but the lingering smell of it certainly wasn't anything to [i]recoil[/i] so violently from! He might've made a rude comment, then, about having just eaten shark fin soup (he was reasonably sure it wasn't that... or he half-hoped it wasn't, anyway) for the sole purpose of angering her further, since she'd clearly decided in advance to burn down the entire forest just to ensure no bridges between him and her were built, if not for the abrupt arrival of an aircraft of some description, out of which dropped- from quite a distance- some half-naked prettyboy with armour covering his lower half and nothing but paint on his upper half, making a scene of his presence as though he were the king of the world. About as regal as a rock off a cliff, it occurred to Vladimir, or perhaps like James "Douchebag" Ironwood.

In any case, Vlad now counted seven students, including himself. Six, if one ignored the frankly rude Faunus who was now [i]oooooookay,[/i] he was just going to pretend he didn't just watch her yank out a tooth like it was nothing. Well, maybe it was. Sharks lost teeth at a rapid rate, so he presumed it was the same for her. Nonetheless, he had no interest in further communication with her; she was occupied with the newcomer and the stag Faunus, so all of them were out; the other two women were presently occupied with one another's company, it seemed... which left the brown-haired man in the red longcoat. That definitely appealed to Vlad's sense of fashion, so he strolled over to him, eyeing his hands as the fists, clad in fingerless gloves, were brought together, causing a low-key explosion. [i]Very[/i] low-key. Vlad highly doubted such an attack would injure most Grimm, or do little more than slightly knock back the majority of human fighters.

[color=9e0039]"Please do tell me that that isn't your only weapon, sir,"[/color] Vlad began quietly, [color=9e0039]"or you're going to embarrass whatever you throw your first punch at. Really, do they even... turn into, uh... oh my [i]God,[/i] you're short..."[/color] the Blood Dragon quietly trailed off with a head tilt, realising at last just how much taller he was than his new conversation partner - probably a good foot or so, at a rough guess. Come to think of it, he realised, it seemed as though he was substantially taller and bulkier than [i]everybody[/i] in the clearing, with the only person even coming close to the former being the newest member of the group and Professor Ozpin himself, and his musculature only being vaguely matched by the same golden-haired semi-nudist. Vlad's ego practically beamed as he recognised this, though his face continued to appear surprised as he looked round, and his combat-savvy side reminded him that neither of his physical advantages was necessarily so should he end up fighting any of the group, if they managed to use their reduced size to evade him effectively. Whether they would or not...

But where were his manners, and his attempts to make at least one new ally today? Vlad turned back to the longcoat-wearing character, all smiles and charm now, and politely said to him [color=9e0039]"My apologies for that. I forget myself and my stature sometimes... the name's Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka. Vlad for short. And yourself?"[/color]

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