This isn’t really Pietro’s scene, either. Sure, he’s present, leaning back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching the ax-throwing in progress, but some of that is waiting to see if an accident will happen. He’s not actively participating - not yet, at least, though he might spring into action if an ax-ident looks imminent.

Most people probably wouldn’t guess that he has an interest in patron safety, just from a casual glancing over. The closest thing Pietro’s found to his typical athleisure outfits in the shops here is a dark blue tracksuit accented with neon light piping in a lighter shade of blue, so he looks more like an extra from the inevitable next Tron reboot than someone who died protecting people from a homicidal robot. His default scowling expression doesn’t lend much to an impression of friendliness and approachability, so he’s a little surprised that Jane speaks to him.

“Narrating ... like in a storybook?” His voice is soft, with a heavy accent that most people would likely place from somewhere near Russia. Pietro tips his head to one side, like he’s listening intently, then shakes his head. “No. Are you?”