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Kostya levelled a stare in Otto's direction. "Careful," he said, starting to put away all the toppings except for the sauce and cheese, tidying up so that the counter would look as though it had never been used. "Asking questions, maybe not vanting answers. Very much detail."

"I ain't interested in a relationship. I just got out of one." Otto muttered. However, any sulking was limited thanks to the delicious quality of the pizza. Thankfully said pizza had cooled some, sparing Otto's tongue from further burn.

Making a face, America sighed, "Too soon?" She'd heard about the break up from the sensitivity thing, but had forgotten how fragile boys could be about these things. It's part of what makes them so sweet, but required a softer sort of consideration. Willing to let it drop, this time, she just shrugged, "I'll just put that down instead then. Though let's hope neither of you get hit with that Mister Sexy juju again."

Her attempt at a sympathetic expression was ruined by the grin threatening to peek out.

"Have no interest," Kostya replied, and while it never became a comfortable topic, at least it was within his capabilities to explain, these days. "Romance is unvanted. Touch, also. Both factor lead to not 'relationship material'," he finished, providing a pair of air quotes and a meaningful stare towards America.

With that, he went to check on her pizza, and sometimes it was easier to explain, when he didn't have to look at people. Didn't have to see the surprise, or the pity, or the confusion. "Exist to be of use," he offered, "utility bring content. Is all am needing. Romance is distraction."

"Distraction, huh?" He could see it. It wasn't his business if Kostya dated or not. Really, he couldn't care less about who liked who on the island. Especially right then. He decided to look at it as Kostya being a genderless humanoid from space.

It was way more cool and interesting that way.

"That's fine. Can't have you missin' a dinner here, anyway." Heaven forbid Kostya forget to feed him, right? Still, a life meant only to serve seemed dull to Otto. Wasn't for him.

Otto finished the rest of his pizza, his stomach and taste buds happy and satisfied. The whole room smelled strongly of pizza. It was perfect. "With the way you're gathering data on all eligible men on Deus, it's almost like Death work. Arguably more interestin' Death work."

The implication that Otto felt that what she was doing not only sounded like legitimate, but also interesting work, completely soothed any irritation at his refusal to contribute. And then there was pizza, and food, especially good food presented to her by the people she liked, never failed to appease America. She grinned at his Kostya playfulness and the pit into her first slice with a huge bite that declared a total lack of shame or caution when it came to fresh pizza.

"Oh god yes," she groaned around the mouthful, eyes closing. After swallowing it down she gave the Russian a look of solemn approval. "Supreme."

That said all he needed to know as far as she was concerned.

As she worked her way through, she asked, "So what exactly does Death do, anyway?"

America was being obscene, but that was to be expected. He'd seen her eat before, with the same amount of gusto. Kostya nodded once at her look of approval, shoulders lightening. A job well done, from both parties. He waited for his own, leaning against the counter.

"Am sure do more than that," the Moon trainee said, beatific. "Am knowing Death division is doing veaponizes, and also spying." Kostya took that moment to look sheepish, and mumbled: "Am reading basic file in labs. Apologies."