Erik stepped down from his stoop on the ledge, and offered a hand with the box, setting it down on a nearby table. "Apparently it is," he spoke, his own accent mostly American with just the fairest hint of Scandinavian weight behind his words. He held out his hand to shake with Malakai's. "Pleased to meet you in person. This evening has been rather productive, at least for me." He motioned to the chairs near the table, and walked that direction, himself.
His movements were gravitated generally from his broad shoulders and chest, and as he sat, he opened the box. "So, where is it that you are from? Russia, obviously, but the world, what was it like?" His curiosity about the possibility of other worlds was strong, though his expression never wavered beyond a mild disinterest.