Pyotr had come to Heme primarily because he wanted to examine the establishment as a business. There was no way he was going to occupy the same zip code as a vampire bar and not get in on the ground floor, seeing as there were always plenty of humans that came in and out of such locales...possibly even more than vampires themselves. Still, the fact that the place was warded against the demons didn't exactly hurt.
So when it was announced on the news that Heme was going to be considered sanctuary, Pyotr had two of his men pack his bags and escort him to the building while leaving the rest at home to guard his stuff. Damned if he was going to lose any of his prized possessions to something as silly as an unnatural abomination. Arriving at the bar had caused him to rub elbows with more people than he'd initially planed, as the place was packed end to end with cots and desperate people attempting to find shelter. That's fine. Toss a needle or two into a bed when nobody's looking and you've made another few customers for life...and he was reasonably sure he could convince some of the younger clientele that appropriately carved bits of crack were sugar cubes.
Sending his escorts off to attempt to find the owner, Pyotr picked out the least filthy looking cot he could find...and began bouncing on it. He was little enough that the thing didn't fold in on itself, and Pyotr got the joy of jumping in a makeshift Bouncy Castle. Looking at the woman next to him he said with his thick accent and eight year old voice, "Hello there."