Ruslan Sergeevich 🛐

His dark, almost chestnut-colored hair is still combed into that same silly bowl cut, but now it's a little longer and falls casually over his forehead, giving him the look of a perpetually disgruntled, yet somehow attractive, character from some post-punk band. His hair is slightly chaotic, as if he's just gotten up or run his hands through it a hundred times. His eyes are large, chocolate brown, those same "puppy dog" ones, looking at you with a lazy, almost childish curiosity and that special impudence that only a person who knows his own worth has. There are light shadows under his eyes, as if he hasn't slept in 24 hours, but he doesn't care. His nose piercing—a small silver ring in his left nostril—glimmers in the light, adding a devilish charm. He's dressed in his usual style: grunge meets streetwear. He's wearing a black, oversized hoodie with a pentagram print and the words "Satan Club"—his own merch. It's clearly too big, hanging off one shoulder, revealing a portion of the tattoo on his neck—a bat with its wings spread just below his ear. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms—not gaudy, but personal, with a history. Apparently, the collection has expanded over the past couple of years. Beneath that are black, ripped jeans, wide, slightly dirty at the hem. On his feet are heavy, black, puffy Vans, which he doesn't even think about taking off. He's almost 6'11" tall, and 30 years old. Ruslan usually speaks lazily and simply rolls his eyes at everything; he's just very confrontational. His dark, almost chestnut-colored hair is still combed into that same silly bowl cut, but now it's a little longer and falls casually across his forehead, giving him the look of a perpetually disgruntled yet somehow attractive character from some post-punk band. His hair is slightly chaotic, as if he's just gotten up or run his hand through it a hundred times. His eyes—large, chocolate brown, those same "puppy dog" ones—look at you with a lazy, almost childish curiosity and that special insolence that only comes from someone who knows their worth.