Grand Galloping Gala

Lisette clutched the wool cardigan close to her sides. Sadly enough, it was the warmest thing she owned, but it wasn't nearly warm enough for wintertime in Russia. When her mother had presented her with the big fluffy parka, she had thought it was a joke.

What she wouldn't give for a butterbeer right now... but all the stupid bartenders only spoke Russian, and each one of them had kicked her out. "Salopards racistes*," she muttered to herself, her feathery French sounding completely out of place among the many Russian accents floating around her.

She shouldn't have left the party, she knew that now. But the place was so incredibly boring. It was all pretentious writers just like her mother, all talking about dumb muggle politics and other things she didn't understand. Lisette was almost happier to be lost in a strange city where she didn't know the language.

Almost.

*Racist bastards

Pieter really had no reason to be out on the streets of Sankt this winter day. He had so much music to work on at home, stacks of it, but, the lack of human contact was killing him. All of his brothers were busy, along with his father, and Iva... he didn't know what the hell was up with her.

A gust of wind blew, a rather nice reminder of the up coming snow. His jacket fluttered in the wind around his colorful cartoon t-shirt. Some stupid pony show he thought was cute.

On the street, standing like a rejected fool, was a girl about his age. The Russian tilted his head at her attire; she was a foreigner, unprepared for the cold. Usually, he'd ignore the girl, but... it was cold, even for him and that sweater wouldn't suffice for long.

"You lost?"

Lisette turned in surprise when out of the corner of her eye she saw someone speaking to her. In Russian, of course.

That, combined with the girl freezing her butt off and being hopelessly lost, put a real dampener on her mood. "Really?," she replied in sour French, "Do I really look Russian to you? No, I suppose it's clear as day that I'm a foreigner. What, so are you going to mug me now or something?"

She stared at the boy a few moments and sighed, after all, he was probably just trying to be friendly to a stranger. And he didn't seem too much older than her. Lisette spoke this time in what she assumed was a more universal language, "I'm sorry about that, not really having the best day. I don't suppose you speak English?"

Pieter stood, rejected by her harsh words. He pulled his jacket closer to his body, his miffed sigh letting out a cloud that fogged his glasses. His blue eyes never left the girl, even as he turned his face away. This is why he didn't help others! It was against his moral code- just do what you need and don't bother others, he always said.

"Yes, I speak English," he replied, voice softer than most teenaged boys would allow, "I asked if you were lost, Frenchie,"

He left out the fact he indeed spoke a bit of French, debating whether he should mug the poor girl for the irony of it all. "You are the cold with no jacket. Get inside."

Lisette noticed the boy's reaction, and her expression softened immensely. She gave him an apologetic smile, "Oh well, in that case, I'm even sorrier. And... yes, I'm lost." She bit her lip, still feeling horrible for yelling at him earlier.

She looked up at him for a few seconds, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, until she finally nodded, "All right," If she didn't go inside soon, she'd probably freeze to death.