"She teases me too. She calls me ptichka," Illya laughed. His Russian friend didn't seem to mind the nickname. "You hang around long enough she will come up with nickname for you too."

"Pit-chick-a," Solo tried out the word. He loved languages. He spoke both German and Italian fluently, but Russian sounded like it had too many cosonents. Or like you were tring to speak around a mouthful of marbles. "What does it mean?" He asked sleepily.