* * *

"I can't believe you won." Sally moaned again as she walked with Misha to Knothole's kitchen.

"I'm Russian." He said by way of explanation. "What's for lunch?"

"Crow." Sally said, not missing a beat. "Come on." When they sat down for lunch Sally looked on in surprise as Misha consumed everything that touched his plate. "Someone could lose a hand in there." She observed.

"Now Princess, a growing boy needs his nourishment." Rosie said kindly as she deposited another plate in front of them.

"I hardly think he has to grow anymore." Sally pointed out, referring to his already taller-than average height. "Not unless he intends he bang his head on every doorway in Knothole."

"That only happened twice." Misha countered in between bites. Sally shook her head in self-pity.

"Why is it that only guys can pack food in like that and never gain any weight?" She asked.

"Irony." Misha answered laconically. He groaned suddenly as he noticed something on his plate. "Not another one. I hate these things!"

"You don't like chilidogs?" Sally asked with some surprise. Misha shuddered as he pushed the plate away, trying to maximize the distance between them.

"Vile, revolting things. No one with any taste could stand them." Sally looked at him as if noticing him for the first time.

"You know, you're smarter than you look." She said as she took a drink of water.

"It would be hard not to be." He said in a self-depreciating manner. Sally sputtered and nearly spat out her water. When she finally managed to swallow, she had to visibly restrain herself from laughing.

"How did you like Antoine's tour of Knothole?" She asked, trying to switch topics.

"Wonderful. I've never slept better."

"Oh brother.Do you at least like your hut?"

"It's great! Soft bed with a real mattress, a blanket that isn't a bunch of holes strung together, hot and cold running water, hot showers, and more personal space than I've ever had before. I must be the luckiest Slav alive."

"Glad to see you're settling in fine." Sally smiled. "Mind if I take a look at your place?"

"I guess you're not in such a rush to get back to work." He smiled back. Sally just shrugged.

"I still have half an hour left."

"Well in that case, come on." They stood up went outside. Misha escorted Sally to his hut and went inside. When Sally entered she couldn't help but comment on the neatness of the hut.

"First time I've been in a boy's hut and could still see the floor."

"Har har." Misha grumbled.

"I'm serious, your place seems very well organized." She said as she looked around. Clean floor, made bed, organized bookshelf, all rather orderly. "I can't help but notice that you seem a bit...anxious as of late." Misha cleared his throat. "Well the fact of the matter is, that I wanted to ask you something."

"Go on."

"Sally, I know I will never go on an actual mission. Even with the good doctor's care, I'm still for all intents and purposes, physically unfit. If some miraculous cure was to free me of all my past ailments overnight, I still wouldn't have any physical skills to contribute to the Freedom Fighters." He paused a moment to let that sink in. "However, back at the Mir, I liked to think that I still managed to contribute SOMETHING, even if I couldn't pick up a weapon or a plough. Here, I've done nothing but eat and get prodded by doctors."

"I see." Sally said, knowing where this was going. "You're saying you want to contribute more?"

"I may not be able to plant bombs or dispatch SWATbots, but I can still do SOMETHING. I refuse to be treated like an invalid or a squatter. I want to pull my own weight around here, based on my own merits and actions. Not just be another mouth to feed." He paused and withdrew when he found that he was getting far too agitated. "My apologies."

"None necessary." Sally assured him. "Well, if not actual missions, what did you have in mind?"

"I'm not really sure. Since you don't have much need for a translator or an archeologist out here, I thought I could just do some odd jobs that would free the rest of you up to do more important things. I thought I could stand guard, assist Rosie in the kitchen, deliver messages, help Rotor organize his stuff, be there when Dulcy needs help landing, stuff like that."

Sally looked at him with newfound respect. "You're quite serious about all this? The work isn't exactly glamorous and you probably won't get recognition for it..."

"Recognition isn't what I'm after. I believe, and this is just me mind you, that all forms of work are of equal or near equal importance. That's one of my principles. If you don't like it....I have others. Anyway, Sonic's the hero, yes, but where would he be without you? Or Tails or Bunnie or Rotor or-?"

"-You've made your point. Quiet well actually." Sally said with a smile. "Personally, I think you're selling yourself short. Far short. I saw the intelligence test results, an IQ of 129 is nothing to sneeze at. And as for your gifts with languages and history, I have a feeling we may yet make use of them. But for now, consider your request granted. Just don't overexert yourself. Otherwise the doctors will be out gunning for my hide."

"Well, we can't have that." Misha grinned. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." Sally said as she turned to the door. "Now that you've taken me away from my planning session for an hour and a HALF, I suppose I should be heading back. Oh, and Misha?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

* * *