Holding in a chuckle from what was going on in the corner - [i]"Who gave that kid an energy drink?"[/i] - Angel took Copen's hand with a grin and shook it; pleased to see that he too, was European. Now, American's made plenty of jokes about how small Europe was - if you drive for a couple of hours in America, you're still in the same state. In Europe, well, you'll likely end up in another country, depending on where you were. Regardless of that, there was some sense of relief in finding another European there - perhaps she'd just heard too many Americans come up to her and be like [i]"Oh my gawsh, your accent is so cute, where are you from?"[/i]

Also, by the sounds of Damon, he too wasn't native to the States. Ah, Russians. That explained half of the surly behaviour, anyway.

"You guessed right - I'm from Rome. I visited Denmark once, although it was the capital. A beautiful city, Copenhagen." She conversed, releasing his grip and leaning back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other as the rambling continued in the corner. "Sadly, I never picked up much of the language other than some pleasantries and swear words." She added with a chuckle, only for her gaze to be drawn to the newcomer to their conversation. The average looking brunette - or, at least, she'd just assumed he was average. With the stuff spouting from his mouth, he sounded way more fun than his normal appearance gave away.

"Now, I'm no expert in the language of love, but I expect what you said was something very cheesy." She could work out the basics of what he'd said; French, after all, was rather similar to Italian in some respects. Either way, she hardly minded. Angel was a sucker for bad jokes, and even worse pick-up lines. Mind you, it didn't take much to get a laugh out of her - all someone had to do was say '69' and she'd start laughing.

The situation unfolding - along with a glorious pair of black wings - the opposite end of the jet, however, was childish in a whole other way. [i]"Hiding behind your wings? Doesn't matter how pretty they look, still a dumb thing to do."[/i]

"How about we stop cooing over some feathers and let the boy breathe a bit, yeah?" She suggested with an easy grin, standing up and sauntering on over to the group. "Put those wings away Ruskie. Isolation is a bad colour on you, believe it or not." She added with a light tap on the feathers, before directing her gaze towards the 'kid', as Nick had so correctly branded him. He would be a couple of inches taller than her, but with her heeled boots on, she finally had the advantage. Of... two inches, but still. A girl's gotta take victories big and small, right?

"What's your name, [i]bambino[/i]? And, more importantly, what's your skill?" Angel asked, turning slightly so the kid, Nick and Copen were all in her sight - the question was directed to everyone, after all. "Damon here has his wings - I suppose everyone else's talent is a little more invisible?" Although a way to deescalate the situation somewhat, she was honestly curious. What could these guys do, to catch the attention of the walking, Nazi-Punching, OAP popsicle himself?