The Russian stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the other man speak up.
Oh dear lord, a stylist had caught him on a lazy day. Ivan usually let himself have a day or two a month where he wouldn't fret over what he would wear that day so that he could sneak in a few hours of sleep. Especially on days like today when he was doing mostly work in his office. The photographer thought he deserved it, considering how he usually dressed so impeccably.
But, he was caught. His baggy hockey hoodie (That had the list of the Russian players from the 1992 winning Olympic team on the back) probably made him look fat, and the black sweats were the fashion industry's worst enemy. The dirty, worn out runners were no better. Ivan sighed, knowing that he would have to hand them over for the day. He walked towards Toris. "I do not think I really need help, so to say, comrade. But, if you really feel the need, I guess I cannot oppose."
((OOC: Hey, it said open so I thought that I would jump in. I hope that you don't mind <3))