( embarrassingly, he doesn't have to wait long. alina flounces out of the entrance like a child sneaking a peek at christmas presents, quick enough that it's obvious she'd been keeping watch beyond the glass. kettlewing is, predictably, fastened to her hip by one bracing hand against his rotund body — a kindness for paul, mostly, who she expects would crack like any teapot, if he has to mop up another of kettlewing's (or her) tantrums. the little bell around his neck twinkles and chimes merrily once alina sets him down, free to waddle over to nibble on nick's pant leg. )

Very festive, thank you. You didn't have to go through all the trouble for me.

( warmly, the corners of her eyes pull tight and crinkle. nick could have brought her someone's leftover cupcake, a bite already taken, and it would still be a more worthy celebration than anything keramzin had bothered with. what reason is there to rejoice in an orphan's birthday in ravka, when another passing year means they've one step in the grave, months closer to the army's draft? she makes a grabby motion, all raccoon-like paws. )

I see you're still in one piece. I'm assuming the kitchen staff didn't throttle you, then.