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Otto almost glared at Kostya before he corrected himself, his fingers slowly turning the pop can in a circle on the counter. He was glad he was picked so young, at the time. Looking back he wondered if he had been too hasty. Teenage hormones coupled with a less than welcoming home life forced him to make a rash decision.

"There're a lot of others my age, but I think I get picked on a lot anyway.." Cause of his height, he rationalized. Though Gale was a year younger, and even shorter than himself. He wasn't sure if he got the baby treatment quite as much or not. He was still holding out hope he'd grow taller before he turned twenty. His joints were sore just wishing for it.

"Dude, you got a little..." Otto gestured to Kostya's face for him.

"Basic Training?" It made it sound like she was in the army or something. All things considered, he wouldn't be surprised. "Just what'd ya go to school for?"

America made a small face at Kostya's list but didn't offer any sort of apology just a quiet, "If you know the truth of yourself it's all the really matters," with a careless shrug. Otto's question had her smiling quickly enough, "I went to school the reason most kids do, because I had to. But after I graduated I enlisted in the navy."

She traced a finger along the countertop and gave both of them fairly direct look, "Far as I know, we all grew up seeing things other people couldn't right? So obviously there was some sort of," the girl gestured widely, "greater purpose waiting for me. I waited until graduation to see if the government or somebody was going to knock on my door and explain it all, but they didn't, and I wasn't going to wait around any longer. Figured I'd have to make my own opportunity but.." another shrug, "...didn't come to that."

"Can understand military," Kostya offered. "Did one year also. Is require of all Russian men before turn twenty-vun."

He thought of his recruitment, again, for the third or fourth time in recent months, and busied himself with offering Otto a flat stare. And then: "I vant to suck your blood," said with a complete and total poker face.

"Vheat field? For me, she came in spring." He did not talk about her, because doing so aloud felt like it might jinx it, in some way. "Shadow came for us, and then, she make it all go avay."

"Woah woah you were both in the military? Jeez Louise." He grumbled, ruffling his hair. One was in it, one was considering it, anyway. It was more surprising than shocking.

Otto stared up at Kostya, poker faced. Why was he staring at him? Had he been offended by calling him a vampire. However, when Kostya went ahead and humoured him with that poker faced impression, Otto snorted. Stifling a laugh, he covered his mouth and turned away.

Amazing. Kostya tried to be funny. Like a seventh world wonder.

"What's it like havin' Allen as a Division leader, anyway?" Otto asked curiously, trying to play like he hadn't almost laughed at something stupid. "I mean... it can't be worse than having Caelius."

"Allan is like...having a giant, overpowered, hyperactive twelve-year old who likes cartoons for a boss." She made a face and then continued, begrudgingly, "He's a good guy, I just wasn't really...expecting him." America inhaled deeply, a dreamy expression crossing her face that was part pizza appreciation part let's talk about cute boys. "Hot Angry Teacher is so majestic though, especially when he's flying into a violent rage."

Kostya's mention of Edith surprised her a bit, "I've had to talk to her a few times, mainly about rebuilding the basement and how much my pay was being docked. She was all business and bottom line."

"Da," Kostya offered, returning to the flat expression he wore when he was trying not to think about something unpleasant, which translated into the emoticon "D:", and to the same exact face he wore 94% of the time, "she is meaning Caelius."

At Otto's order, the Russian obediently got up to peek into the oven, shaking his head. "Soon, though. Not qvite as bubbly as you are liking." It needed just a tiny bit more time to brown. But, it was a short enough time for him to gather up a plate, the pizza cutter, and to fetch the parmesan cheese from the refrigerator. While he waited, America's pizza started to look more and more supreme as Kostya added toppings.

As they talked further, he would remove Otto's pizza, cutting him some gooey slices and setting the plate in front of him. He wouldn't even have to get up.

Otto waited, his foot tapping against the metal bar of the stool. He was hungrier now. He'd grown fond of the Russian's cooking to a point where he got just a little excited when it was near time to feed. In the meantime, he made a disgusted face at America's description of the homicidal boss. Girls were weird.

Finally it came, Otto nearly grinned as the plate was slid in front of him. Instead, he grinned on the inside, the outside looking more on the focused side than joyful. He sprinkled a good helping of the parmesan onto a slice before taking a large bite. Hot. It was hot, but he was impatient. And it was so, so good.

His basking in pizza wonderland was broken by a rude question. He paused mid chew to give America a dirty look. With an audible gulp, he swallowed his mouthful, "S'cuse me?"

America shrugged innocently at Kostya, "Well if you think his tastes don't count...then I guess I'll leave off." She turned back to Otto with a wink, "I just figured that with your time here and status you'd have the sort of," she gestured widely, "...experiences here that'd make your opinions on that sort of thing important."