Piotr and Megan
She peeked from Piotr to the redhead again when her huffiness went up in accord with the wave. One dark pink brow spocked up curiously and then she shrugged and looked back towards him. Oh well. She'd probably made an enemy and she had no idea how!
A tiny squeak-toy noise escaped the girl when she was squeezed, not a sound of pain, but an amused sound that was followed by a giggle. Down she went again, her wings still fluttering faintly even once her toes were back on the ground, as if he needed help supporting her meager weight.
"No way, I've heard that in Siberia they have riding wolves and reindeer and stuff oh, oh and great big fields of woolly mammoth bones and you can get ivory and make the poachers stop that way!" She bounced in place slightly, getting a bit excited over the idea of riding wolves. Honestly, the two had no right to converse and anyone standing on the outside surely must have found it nearly incomprehensible. Her with her sped up, tipsy Welsh accent and him, well with his Russian one.