Pete did his best to repel Minka's poking while chewing his food. By the time she leaned back, his hands were up near his chest in the universal 'I give up' pose. She was a pistol. "Calm down, little one." Piotr said with a concerned glance at Minka. He could hear the roughness in her throat, he didn't want her to make it any worse.
"Da, of course I will stay." Her cold made her sound even more helpless than normal. Not that Minka was ever really helpless, she just played the part well. "But," he turned to his little rabbit and pointed his fork at her. "Go easy on that throat, and stay wrapped up." Pete had unintentionally used his fatherly tone. His free hand moved out toward her face and pressed the back of it to her cheek. She did feel a lot warmer than usual. "Have you taken anything?"