Pietro appeared instantly in the door way, eyes sharp and hair stuck up at an angle that suggested he'd been zipping about since they got the news.
"Wick, you can't take the fish to space. You just can't. The fish doesn't want to be in space. Fish are not a thing you take with you in an evacuation, I'm sorry--PB be quiet--" he snapped, otherwise calm, nudging the whining dog away from his ankles.
"...We don't have time to feel bad about the fish," he pleaded.