"Wow." Misha leans forward in his seat and adjusts his binoculars. They're not that far up, but he likes to see the intricacies of the motions, and not on the jumbotron, either. "That's really... kind of sensual. Almost obscene, really."

Richard has been spending the past ten minutes watching Misha watch the ice dancers. It's actually way more interesting than the ice dancing. He doesn't really get the sport - it's like ballroom dancing but harder to balance, he figures - but Misha just soaks everything up like a sponge, and his comments are almost always amusing. This, however, gets his attention. "Yeah? Let me see." He pulls at the binoculars.

"Hey!" Misha complains, but eventually he lets up.

Richard looks through, but by now they're doing some death spiral or some other thingy that Richard can't remember the name of but looks vaguely like they're atoms in a centrifuge. "That's not sexy. What were they doing?"

"Oh, it was some kind of thing where she had her head back and he was all -- "

"Some kind of thing." Richard scoffs. "Your powers of description are staggering."

"Then let me show you." Misha leans in close, breathing on Richard's neck, and his hand suddenly wraps around Richard's waist, slowly dragging upward. "Eet was varry Romaaynian," he drawls.

Richard looks away quickly, trying to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest. "I didn't ask for a demonstration," he says.

"Consider it a special service for a favored customer," Misha says, and Richard swears he feels lips brush by his ear.

He smiles. "Oh. And here I thought you did that with all of the guys you took to the Winter Olympics."

"Perish the thought." Misha's stolen the binoculars back, but before he peers through them again, he winks at Richard. "You're special."

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