Stavros heard her before he saw her, and his eyebrows lifted to disappear under the shaggy fringe of his hair. During the few times his father had been around, Arkady had called him 'kid' too, and it was usually to belittle him. It was nothing personal towards the blonde, he just hated the nickname.
"Stavros," he corrected, with a patience that belied the fact that he was only eighteen. "And you are...Penelope, yes?"
Up close, she was older than he'd figured her for being, but there was something very...what was the word? Fetching. That was it, the word was fetching. The Russian looked down at his tennis shoes. He'd never seen so many bright colors on one person before.
"I am sorry if I was rude," he said, pointing at her laptop. "Before, on the computer. I do not talk good to strangers."