[b][u]Nikolay Andreevich Ivushkin[/u][/b]

As always, Nikolay had taken a lot of notes, applying just about every color in the rainbow when it came to his highlights on important words and terminology out of all the things that the teacher had taught. He usually wrote his notes in his native Russian Cyrillic, translating his thoughts from English to his mother tongue before jotting them down. He did this on purpose; these were, after all, his personal notes, and he wasn't at all the type that let others copied from his work, as it was his firm belief that everyone should learn independence when it came to studying properly. There weren't a lot of other Russians in the school anyway, and it wasn't like he would actively let them copy either.

Nikolay licked his lips as he looked upon the food that was being served to him in the cafeteria. He wasn't sure what this was called, but it has been the stuff that he has been buying for the last few days that he has been here. It was probably called zinikang... or something. It was much better when rice is added, too.

He bowed to the lady over the counter in an attempt to give his thanks... only for him to remember that this was the Philippines, not China or Korea. The small minority of Koreans in Sakhalin were the only Asians that he had interacted for most of his life, so he kind of assumed that they were all similar... only they weren't at all. Embarassed, he simply managed to say [i]'salamat po'[/i] (thank you), though with a heavily accented tone. He need more practice...

Nikolay proceeded to look for people that he already knew; those he already considered to be somewhat familiar or amicable to him in this school of magical warriors. Thankfully, he found Jiem and Pablo. Together as always...

"Eyo, [i]privet[/i].", Nikolay said to the two. "Do you mind having a third wheel?"