Part of Margo wanted to bask in Slava’s praise, but the rest of her narrowed its eyes at how cocky he was. Self assured, quidditch playing, flirtatious... she didn’t know how they’d gotten on so well so far. If you considered minor tomfoolery as getting along, that is.

“Courage is your middle name, huh?” Margo smirked. She was sure he’d seem all too courageous when he compared the Hufflepuffs to angels and hippogriffs when playing in the match. Margo could barely contain her excitement.

The revelation of the Russian boy’s name surprised her. She doubted his parents could have come up with something longer and more confusing if they tried, and it sounded as if they’re tried. “Vyahch-“ Margo began, halting when she realised that she wasn’t going to do his name any favours. “...Slava. We’ll have to see if bravery really does zing through your veins. So what would you say to someone who challenged your flying skills?”

It was safe to say, Margo felt as if Russian would be a language well worth learning... even just to surprise this boy. The words and names were so different, though, and sounded almost brutal in Margo’s untrained ears. She wanted to travel the world someday, but she was only just appreciating how hard the art of communication really was.

---

A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

She dared to challenge his courage? She hadn't proved her own in any way. Sure, she was lively and certainly not shy, but she wasn't the one who was going to play, and she wasn't the one who approached him. He felt indignant at the thought! Slava, not courageous? Hmph! Okay, maybe he was reckless and a little stupid sometimes, but he was still brave, right? Those traits were similar enough. “Nobody would dare challenge my flying skills,” he said, his tone light and merry, “Because I would smash their face in with a bludger first.” He grinned broadly, as if he had said something pleasant. Really, he was just looking forward to her reaction.

But what would he say if someone challenged him? Should he say the Russian or the English? Obviously, this girl didn't know Russian… maybe he could trick her. Smothering a smug grin, he continued, “But if a dumb student tries to challenge me, I would tell them Я люблю моя мама,” he replied very seriously. It meant "I love my mom." Of course, he'd never actually say that to a Russian, but Margo didn't have to know what it really meant. Mentally patting himself on the back, he waited for her reply.

“A bludger, hm?” Margo tried not to let her confusion show as she attempted to recall her limited Quidditch knowledge. Was a bludger the red ball or the evil one? It didn’t really matter, she supposed — smashing someone’s face in was enough of a threat as it was. Now, some people might be alarmed if a near stranger said something like that — especially with Slava’s jolly tone — but Margo just found herself becoming more and more intrigued. The only sign that she might disapprove of his violent words was a single raised eyebrow.

“Yah lyublyoo mwoyah mahmah?” She winced at the very non-Russian sounds bursting from her lips. How could somebody simple words in her head sound so different from the sounds that came from her mouth? She carefully studied Slava’s jaw. It didn’t look that different to hers. Perhaps it was a bit less angular but there was no real indication that he could make strange sounds that she couldn’t. She sighed. She had some work to do before she sounded even remotely Russian.

“So what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked curiously.

Margo’s irritancy at her faulty pronunciation didn’t stretch to her eyes. They were full of mischief while her mind stored away her newfound Russian knowledge. Little did the she know, somebody had just beaten her at her own game.

---

A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

She sounded very uncertain when she repeated the bit about the bludger. “Yes. A bludger. The thing you whack at each other.” He raised an eyebrow, unsure whether she was confused, realised that he was a beater, or was just thinking out loud. Maybe he had translated it wrong? But he had done research on specific Quidditch terms, making sure he knew what they were in English before the big game. He made a swinging gesture like he would with the bat if he was playing Quidditch, trying to assist with her understanding.

He chuckled at her attempt at Russian. It wasn't correct, but it could have been worse. It definitely wasn't that bad. It was endearing to hear her attempt the sounds that he was so familiar with. Should he try to help? Would a correction even help? English and Russian were pretty different, so it would take practice if she actually wanted to know how to say it. “No, Я люблю моя мама.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly when she asked what it meant. Hopefully, it was convincing enough that she would have to go along with it, thinking that it was some horrible curse word. “Well, it does not translate nicely to English. But any Russian would have to take you seriously after that.”

Margo frowned. So Slava liked to whack evilly enchanched hunks of metal around a pitch. Damn. She had to begrudge the fact that he probably did have some courage to do that. Okay, so the way he exuded confidence was sort of endearing, especially considering he was away from his people in a foreign country. Margo had thought that that might actually make him quite a good beater... but that was before he laughed at her Russian. How dare he mock her accent!

However, even though it pained her to do so, Margo kept her mouth firmly shut. Slava could certainly speak English alright. Therefore she was the one at a disadvantage. How annoying. She made herself a vow to stop by at Diagon Alley whilst in London in order to get a Russian/English dictionary... or maybe she’d even brave a muggle bookshop. On second thoughts, she wasn’t going to brave the muggle world for a boy! For her pride, however, was a different story.

“I take my pride very seriously.” She told Slava — all whilst trying to smother her grin. “So please tell me what your Russian burn means so I don’t have to get a dictionary.” Eh, she’d probably get one no matter what he said.

---

A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

It was true that Slava's English was pretty good. He had the advantage of having been exposed to it around his family's pub some of the time when he was a kid, and even occasionally hearing it around Durmstrang. There were many languages spoken at their school, and Slava wondered if that was the case at Hogwarts too. Perhaps Margo knew other languages besides English, even if she didn't know Russian. When she had said her name, hadn't she said some strange word? The insect thing? It hadn't sounded like English, or at least not any English he knew. Was that a different language? Why would she use it with him if it was? Was it a foreign word that, despite not being English, was still used and understood? He was definitely overthinking this…

Now, Margo was pushing to know what his "insult" meant, so he spent a second pondering over what to tell her. He could lie and make up something bizarre or cruel, or he could tell her the truth. After a moment, he shook his head and raised his hands. “I don't think you can handle it.” A small smirk formed on his lips as he teased her.

Was the Russian boy joking? She could handle a petty joke, thank you very much. Placing both her hands on her hips, Margo jutted her chin in the air. Perhaps that, along with her heeled boots, could make her seem taller. Not that she really needed to impress the boy. Definitely not. She just had to show him that she was the opposite of a ‘damsel in distress’.

“Backing out so soon? I thought you said you had courage?” She only just refrained from sticking her tongue out at Slava. There was no need to scorn her like that! She thought they had a mutual understanding — one where she was just as tough as some random egotistical Russian beater. Because she knew so many of those.

But this egotistical Russian beater was actually fun to talk to. He wasn’t as witty as her, of course, but still good company to tease. She didn’t want to cut their conversation short at all, and she wouldn't, as long as all went to plan.

“Well if you really don’t know the translation...” Margo sighed, turning as if to leave. He wouldn’t dare refuse her now! Her company was like a gem — much too precious to lose over some foolish hesitancy.

---

A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

It seemed Margo was definitely not one to back down or drop it. He admired that. Perhaps he would tell her the truth, just to see her reaction. He did not doubt that it would be priceless. He had to find some way to bewilder her and have some victory, because clearly she wouldn't be accepting any form of loss if she could help it. “Of course I have courage! I'm not backing out, I was just checking if you needed to. As if I'd ever back out.” He just barely resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her. Did she need to back out? She should while she still had the chance. Before he told her the terrible truth…

“Fine, fine. It means I love my mom.” That was what they called their mothers, right? Mom? Mum? Something like that. His own parents were Mama and Papa to him, but he was trying to find something that had a chance of being what she called her own mother. He looked at her very seriously, possibly trying to convince her that it was some sort of weird insult. He had no idea how she would react, but he prayed that it would be entertaining.

“I love my mom.”

Was Slava joking? He looked serious enough, but it wasn’t as if Margo wasn’t familiar with ‘your mom’ jokes. Having an older brother did come with its advantages, after all. But Slava wasn’t Toby, and his serious expression was throwing her off. Margo’s face was a portrait of utter confusion. Her brows furrowed and her gaze darted around the boy’s face as if she could see a lie etched there if she looked closely enough.

Ah well. If he was playing a game, she might as well play too. Better to be safe than sorry. She didn’t want to accidentally insult someone when she was just trying to spread her love for her Mam. However, if her mother heard about her being with an arrogant Russian boy, Margo sensed she might be in some trouble. Elara White was kind and fair. Admittedly, her cooking could be somewhat questionable, but you didn’t say that to her face. Margo privately wished she could pull of the same stern look.

But for now she had a different act to put on. Margo shook her head to get rid of her confused expression and nodded at Slava sagely. She looked him dead in the eye and said: “I’m sure your mother loves you too.”

---

A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

Slava had to bite his lip to stop himself from immediately bursting into laughter at her expression. She looked so confused! Did she believe that, in Russian, it could still be an insult? This was better than he had expected. He very carefully maintained a straight face to attempt to keep the confusion going. He had told her the truth and still got a satisfactory reaction. This was great.

He was forced to stop his imaginary laughter when the confusion vanished from her face and she told him that his mother loved him too. It was a pretty intense stare, with direct eye contact, and if he was less stubborn, he probably would have squirmed. However, he was Slava, so he proudly stayed put. “She does, yes…” he said, frowning slightly. What else was he supposed to say? This dialogue wasn't as satisfactory, and now he was closer to being confused than the bold Scottish girl who had managed to take charge of the situation.

The plan was failing! What would he do now? He stared at her blankly. For once, he was at a loss for words. A topic change would be good, but he didn't want to start it in case she thought he was ducking out of the conversation and giving in.