Unless you are Mira-Charma13 and LOLLIPOP!, no touchie!

The Russian area of Chechnya has always been known for rabid nationalist behavior. This leads to much unrest, and a lot of violence against Russians and any others who oppose their independence.

Naturally, the United States, oh so wary of threats of possible terrorism, is wary of the area. Agents are sent there every once in a while to check out very real threats, like they do with most other areas of the world...

Gavin Krause had to admit that he felt a bit overwhelmed. He'd been transferred and hired by the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation and for one of his first assignments, he had been sent to Russia to babysit some supposed terrorist. They couldn't even confirm that "fact". Oh, but Gavin was just being a baby. Beneath all of this complaining, he was just nervous. Very nervous, as if he would trip on some potential evidence and get fired or something ridiculous like that.

But, no, he needed to keep his cool. It wasn't like her was here by himself. Ah, but he was, wasn't he? His partner, Elena, had been around but she'd had her eyes on a different suspect and Gavin had agreed, extremely reluctantly, to go ahead and split up, each keeping an eye on their own targets. In his case, his gorgeous black rental car, which he wanted to take back to America with him, had taken him past the center of the city. His destination was just a couple of miles from the border of the city and as he began to approach the suburban neighborhood which this house was supposed to be in, Gavin let the car gradually slow until he had stopped right in front of the very house he had been looking for.

'Gun? Check.
Identification? Check.
Backbone? ... Check ... '

The whole terrorist thing didn't really appeal to him. Ah, that was the other thing he was nervous about. Dying. That would suck. He wasn't even positive as to why the FBI was so close to this, especially since this was Russia and all. Maybe he had missed something, maybe this was all a learning experience. Either way, there was nothing he could about it at this point. Rather than stomping right up to the door, though, Gavin decided to stay in the car and keep his distance for now. Hopping onto a terrorist's doorstep was not the best of ideas. So, pulling his lips together into a fine line, Gavin leaned back in his cushioned seat, his light brown eyes lingering on the door and drifting from window to window.

The small house seemed deserted...and rather creepy. There was an odd stuffed animal--a mix between a lion and a bird--sitting on one of the windowsills, and one of the rooms--seen through the window, was completely black and white, like cow spots.

There seemed to be no activity in the house, and there wasn't for a while.

Then, there was movement in the black and white room, on the second floor. A young man was sitting by the window...half-naked, and clutching a stuffed panda. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower.

((Oh, I'm gonna need a name for your terrorist. Since Gavin would have most likely had it on file.))

Gavin's eyes continued to drift along the windows and his initial thought was that the whole place just had this really creepy vibe. He wasn't glad he didn't live in this neighborhood. Or in this country, actually. His eyes lingered for a couple of moments on a strange stuffied animals sitting in one of the windows and he narrowed his eyes a bit. "What the hell ... ?" He smirked and laughed slightly at the idea that it may have been 'keeping watch'. Crazy.

And then his eyes wandered further until he finally saw some movement in the black and white room on the second floor. He straightened up a bit in his seat and narrowed his eyes as the figure of a white-haired boy approached the window and took a seat. He was half naked and Gavin was a bit surprised that he could tell from where he sat that he had probably just gonna out of the shower. And in his arms, he was clutching a panda.

That was definitely the person he was looking for. With a short sigh, Gavin decided to wait a couple of minutes before moving, himself. Those few minutes went by in painfully slow agony, though, before he finally opened the door and stepped out of the car. He looked fairly nice in that detective sort of way. He was even sporting a black trench coat, his favorite of his collection. Brushing fingers briefly through his red hair, Gavin shut the car door and made his way toward the door. He stopped just inches in front of it and knocked three times before stepping back once more. His nerves were buried inside of him, he could feel them. But no intelligent terrorist would cause any havoc at a time like this. No sane one, rather.

((His name is Termad Apollon. :3))

"Cooomiiiinng!"

The voice was painfully flamboyant. There was rummaging around inside. Three minutes later, the door slid open, wide open--no sense of caution, whatsoever--and the young man was in the doorway. He was wearing an old black tank top and white cargo shorts. He had a pink belt on.

He paused, leaning against the door's frame and studying Gavin, curiously. "Hello there. Do you need something?"

Gavin cringed slightly as he heard the incredibly flamboyant voice piercing through the walls. He had a bad feeling about this, and this time it didn't even have anything to do with this kid being a terrorist. Finally, though, the door was quickly pulled wide open and staring there in front of him was the very boy he was here to keep an eye on. He looked so young and, well ... feminine. He almost had to try not to stare. He was really young, too, which wasn't something he should have been shocked about. His birthday was on file and everything. He should have been far more befuddled over the pink belt that he was randomly sporting.

"Yes," Gavin began, pasting a slight smile onto his face. "Yes, are you Termad? Termad ... Apollon?" he asked, though he had obviously stumbled the tiniest bit over the boy's last name. He was in freaking Russia, of course he was going to have a few slip-ups. "Gavin Krause, FBI," he added quickly as he flashed his badge at Termad before shoving it back into one of the pockets inside of his coat. "I'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."

Termad took immediate notice of the unwilling stare the stranger had fixed him with and arched a silvery eyebrowm running a hand through his messy hair. He hadn't had time to style it, since he'd just hopped out of the shower when he knocked on the door.

"Mm...yes, that would be me." His eyes, carefree and flirtatious, grew just a tad more wary when Gavin flashed his badge. He pulled open his door, however. "FBI? An American, eh? Welcome to Russia!"

"Welcome to Russia!" he had said and Gavin really wanted to cringe. The warm welcome was certainly a fantastic change since the workers at the airport were not happy with his limited knowledge of the language. He was relieved he hadn't gotten any bizarre looks from Termad, though. Language barriers didn't seem to be a problem between them at all, so far.

"Thanks," he said with a chuckle. "Your streets haven't been the kindest to me, though. I got a little bit lost getting here." The fact that all of the street signs were in another language probably didn't help much. Nevermind speaking Russian. Reading it was an entirely different story.

Noticing that Termad had, indeed, pulled the door open further for him, Gavin gave him a quick nod before glancing behind him quickly toward the rental. He then looked back at Termad and smiled, stepping back inside.

"Oh, please. You think your American streets are any better?" Termad spouted, bottom lip sticking out. He strutted further inside the house...swinging his hips...

"This way, super-secret agent man," he called, heading into what looked like a kitchen..with no oven. From the looks of things, Termad had a lot of money. He had top-notch appliances--save for an oven--in his kitchen. The lack of an oven suggested he wasn't the best cook. Heavily, the odd young man plopped down in one of the four kitchen chairs. His stuffed panda, which he'd been holding when Gavin had seen him in the window, was nowhere in sight.

"So, what is it you want to ask me, hmm?" he purred, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his fingers.

Gavin's eyebrows perked upward slightly as he followed Termad at a decent distance. What in the world was he doing? Well, the answer was obvious enough as he continued to swing his hips as he walked. This was just so weird.

As they stepped into the kitchen, he took a moment to briefly glance around the room. The first thing he took notice of was the fact that everything in the kitchen seemed to be top-notch in quality and brand. It all looked pretty pricey and Gavin had to do a bit of a double take. He really was eighteen years old, right?

Gavin had planned on taking on a certain route of questioning but that all suddenly changed. He stepped toward Termad so that he was standing on the other side of the table and he leaned his hands on the back of on the chairs. "Mr. Apollon, what do you do for a living? And what about your family?" he began, figuring he could work off of that for now.

Termad shifted in his seat, reclining his feet up on the table. "Hm...well, for now, I'm unemployed. My parents are dead. I was adopted by a rich couple who couldn't, and still can't, have any children. They spoil me rotten. I do want to get into the fashion field, since I love clothing so much..."

He cut it off there. All of that was true, after all. He'd just left out a few minor details about his personal life and an infamous skill he had...

...which was working with top-grade explosives.

"I see," Gavin mused as he began to scribble down some notes on a small pad he'd whipped out as Termad had begun to answer. He had really terrible handwriting and he didn't doubt that he would be the only one to actually decipher the writing on the page. In this line of work, though, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The fashion comment caused him to smirk slightly as he looked the boy over one more time. Surely he'd be good at it.

"And this rich couple? Your adoptive parents? I'll need their names," he continued, his eyes briefly returning to the paper in front of him.

"Oh, don't bother them...they live all the way over in Siberia..." Termad huffed. "Besides, they won't give you any information about anything, at all. My affairs and their affairs are different. The most they'll do is show you some embarrassing baby pictures of me."

He paused to shudder at this thought. "Gah..."

Termad grinned after a moment. "If you really need their names so badly, you should be able to find them without too much trouble..."

"Siberia," he muttered softly as he looked down to job down a couple more notes. That posed for problems. He would have much rather spoken with them in person, but a phone call would have had to suffice. He glanced back up, though, smiling briefly at the idea of baby pictures. He must have been one cute baby.

"Very true," he said, nodding in agreement. "Getting them directly from the son would prove to be much easier. But I can work around that." His mind flickered back to Termad's earlier statement, though, and he narrowed his eyes curiously. "Not to backtrack, but ... you mentioned affairs. What do you consider your 'affairs' to be?" he asked. After all, he just admitted to him that he was unemployed. Gavin was just trying to pull out the answer he was looking for.

"Since I don't really have a job--though I do babysit the children next-door once a week--my affairs would be my social life," Termad purred, again skimping around the subject. He wasn't lying. He was simply leaving things out...cookie-cutting his responses.

"I have a lot of friends. I had a significant other until about a week ago. But, I'm single again, now..."

"And does this former significant other have a name?" Gavin asked simply, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't particularly looking for any sort of confession right now, though that would have been a definite bonus. What Gavin really wanted was to get a simple read of Termad. He wanted to know what he was like emotionally; what he was like when he was under pressure. So far, he was passing with flying colors, but Gavin had a feeling that he was being a little bit too helpful.

"Viktor Skelter. He's still my friend, of course, but we didn't have good chemistry. He went with his little brother for a week-long safari in the African Congo--he left three days ago," Termad surrendered, easily enough. He flashed Gavin a big smile. "In case you're wondering, I like boys, not girls..."

Gavin's eyes immediately turned to his notepad as he jotted down the name, half of him not even realizing that it was a boy's name until Termad had said something. He glanced up and raised his eyebrows at the sight of that wide smile. "Fantastic," he said, but he immediately shut up, realizing that it may have sounded like he preferred boys as well. He had meant for it to be a why-are-you-telling-me-this type of statement. Not that he didn't prefer boys. He always had, he just wasn't quite as open about it as Termad clearly was.

"Fantastic, indeed," Termad commented, offhandedly. Then, he dropped his legs from the table and sat up more, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you investigating me, mister agent man? Have I done something wrong?" he pressed, tilting his head to one side, much like an inquiring parrot.

Gavin leaned his arms further onto the back of the chair, relaxing best he could as he watched the boy across from him adjust himself a bit. "Unfortunately, I can't give you the details," he said, any weak smile or smirk he have held vanishing. "It is a matter of national security, but I can assure you that this is just some routine questioning." For now. Routine questioning, my ass. Termad was a legitimate suspect, but Gavin had no plans on getting into the specific questions tonight. Maybe not even for a little while longer.

Termad tilted his head in the other direction and stared at Gavin for a long moment. Then, he leaned forward a bit more, over the table. "Are you sure there's nothing I could do to eke a few of those details out of you, hmm?" he purred, eyes locked with his.

Termad was well-known among his colleagues for being a master of seduction. He was quite promiscuous.

Gavin eyed Termad cautiously as the boy leaned forward, over the table. The agent's grip began to loosen a bit on the chair and he furrowed his brow subtly as he watched this eyes which had so easily locked his there. He watched him in wonder before suddenly shaking his head. "I promise that there is nothing you can do. Nothing but sitting tight until you hear back from me." He was going to stand his ground if it was the last thing he did. He was getting the feeling that leaving soon would be a pretty good idea, though.

Termad pursed his lips, and plopped back down in his chair. His bottom lip stuck out in a childish manner. "Well, poo...and here I thought you'd enjoy having some fun on the job." He shrugged, smiling. "Oh well." He paused again, and the grin returned. "You going to be conducting some surveillance?"

He would have to make a mental note to have some fun with that.

Gavin's smirk finally returned. The kid was smart. Smart as a terrorist was expected to be. "As a matter of fact," he said briefly with a nod. He was a bit disappointed that Termad had been expecting the surveillance, though. But in this boy's supposed line of work, it could only be expected. Gavin had yet to decide what he was going to do about tainted surveillance. This would definitely be a tough one and he was hoping his partner was having better luck elsewhere.

"Oooh. I can have some fun with that," Termad thought, out loud, with a wry smirk on his face. "I warn you, I'm known for throwing crazy parties. I enjoy nightlife. It can get out of hand...clothes come off..."

Again, a true statement with some details left out. He produced explosives for terrorist operations, and he used parties as a cover-up for these transactions sometimes.