"Hey, I got a social disease!"
Russ smiled upon them, a copper god: auburn hair and eyes, a brash of freckles, a thin, mean mouth that could do terrible things to a girl, according to testimonials on Plexmate. He lowered his right eyelid, a seductive move that in his later years would be mistaken for a stroke.
“Which one of you moon maids wants to hop on my atomic rocket?”
From "Go Mutants," p. 30