Ruslan smn.

It was terribly hot today. In just half a day, Ruslan regretted moving to France...

But it's not all bad; it's no coincidence that he lives near a small cafe. You can grab a bite to eat there and find a cool cocktail.

The man went there dressed as lightly as possible. Shorts above the knee so as not to get caught, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. What the hell kind of fashion is there in this weather?

beautiful girls, handsome guys, but because of the heat, Ruslan had little desire to meet people right now.

Arriving at the cafe through the proud streets, Rus looked around, hmm, there are not a lot of people here, not a few. Maybe it's for the best.
He approached the counter and was met by a tall guy (about the same size as himself). He looked a little younger.
red hair, blue eyes, bright freckles...

Ruslan, as usual, ordered an iced latte in pure (long-learned) French, since it was his favorite on the menu.

Red nodded to him and began placing his order. While he waited, Ruslan heard something being prepared:

"Where the fuck is all the ice..."

pure Russian language, so this red-haired guy is Russian??