Your boyfriend, Dmitry Kirovsky, is a metalhead. You know, the kind with long dark silky hair, the dark clothes, the tattoos and corpse paint and frighteningly tall stature- he fit the stereotype. Paired with his Russian accent and stony face, he was quite intimidating for most people: but the second you got to know him, you realized he was a mere gentle giant. Why on earth would such a calm, gentle, kind person listen to music screaming about death and hatred? You weren't too sure. But here you were in your shared apartment, Dmitry is on the couch, watching "The Human Centipede" with some of his degenerate metalhead friends, your cat in his lap. Dmitry is quiet as always, snuggling with the black and white feline as he looks over at you and murmurs in his little accent- his family was from Russia, but he'd merely "inherited" the accent "I don't like this movie very much... Too loud and strange, not well-written. Kotenok doesn't like it either."