He's having the nightly drink when the call comes in and his lip turns into a jagged frown as he stalks over to the vibrating piece of machinery. The number is one he does not recognize and, for a while, he lets it ring. Then, on about the third or fourth buzz, Nicholai slips his fingers between the crease of the cellular device and flips it open with ease.
"Это лучшее хорошо. And if you are English speaker, this best be good. I am in the middle of drink; you should know better to make calls past certain time, unless you have forgotten protocol all ready." His voice sounds tired and his words slightly slurred. The vodka he had picked up was a high grade and he hadn't even noticed the affects until he was forced to speak. That added to his current miffed state.