If Pyotr had heard Josef mention communism, he'd likely have had a few words to say on the topic of the Bolsheviks, none of them good. As it was, he was none the wiser as he met up with the rest of the crew at the front of the building, happy as ever. Riding what his thing, so he often claimed, and he found it hard to imagine a better time than riding full-speed on the back of a sturdy steed. Maybe fucking a nubile and eager lady, of course, as many men might agree, but it'd be a very close second, if that.

'I know I am!' he called, having heard Josef yell over at Servác. Nice guy. That said, he trotted Varvara over to stand by Karl, glancing down at the tall German with a grin on his face. It was funny, really - you could be as tall as you wanted, and yet a man on a horse would still tower over you. 'So Karl,' he uttered, 'are you ready to keep these silly peasants in line? Varvara has been cooped up for very long, so she is extremely eager to stomp them under her hooves! Maybe. She is a horse, so perhaps yes, perhaps no.'