"You should be older than me." He told her, not bothering to conceal the wonder in his eyes or his voice. His first, highly trained, instinct was to pull his own weapon out and point it at her, to show her that she wasn't the only one who was armed. But this was his sister, however things had happened, she was his blood. On top of that, the Russian knew that their weapons did not work outside of their rooms, thus it was pointless.
"When we were younger, I saved you from a tractor. It would have killed you. I wanted nothing more than for you to live a long and happy life, and so I did not think about myself, I only acted. I pushed you out of the way. The tractor came for me instead, I was certain I was dead, but I did not care. I had saved you, that was all that mattered. Instead, I became coated in metal, and destroyed the tractor when it impacted."
The training came in here, too. Piotr didn't have to coat all of himself with the steel that was his skin. He had so much control over it, he merely had to hold up one of his hands and let her see it become something else with a natural ease.
It occurred to Piotr that he was not hearing the Russian accent that he was so used to. It occurred to him that there was something different about her other than her age. But her use of weapons was familiar. Her eyes were those he recalled. Her voice was that of his beloved sister. Whatever had happened, this was his Illyana.