Evgeny Boroschek
Evgeny watched in mild amusement as the guy slithered out from underneath the table. "Are you a dancer or something? You look to be really flexible, judging by the way you just squirmed out from underneath the table." Evgeny was quite used to flexible people, since he had done quite a few photoshoots with ballet dancers and gymnasts, but it was quite surprising to see a male be that flexible. It was a pleasant change from constantly seeing guys who were about as flexible as a wooden board, he had to say.
"Oh, that would be absolutely lovely, hun." Evgeny was overjoyed that the male had offered to help. He had brought way too many bags for his own good - even if he had only brought two - and they were rather heavy. He was in no mood to drag them up the stairs himself. "I hope you don't mind that my bags are really heavy. I have a ton of clothes. People tend to pay me in clothing whenever I do a photoshoot. I personally prefer money, but, hey, free clothes are also nice."
He stood up, wadding the empty muffin wrapper up. Surveying the kitchen quickly, Evgeny spotted a trash can in the corner, and threw the paper over to it in a shot that would put a basketball player to shame. "So, where exactly is your room again?" he asked curiously, tilting his head to one side. He hadn't been told where it was in the first place, but Evgeny was in no mood to openly ask where on earth the guy's room was, so he just pretended that he had been told earlier and he had just forgotten. "Oh, by the way, what's your name? I appear to have forgotten." Evgeny knew that he had been told this before; it was just that remembering names was not his strength.