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Pale eyes hesitated on that singular emerald, before wavering and then dropping to study the scars adorning the man’s body as he spoke. He wanted to wonder about them, but apathy hung so thick in the air that it fogged any intentions to pry further. Jefferson’s words fell away without so much as a reply, and the young Russian stood merely staring. The Patriach must have thought him mental, but Silas wouldn’t have realized either way.
And then, the man was leaving and a hand was waving in departure. For a second longer, the boy remained still and merely watched. But suddenly, as if the fog has dissipated some, the boy took a step forward and tried to find his voice again. After clearing his throat, he called to the man, "Wait! Zhat’s it?" It didn’t seem right that he was off and leaving already, and without so much to show for his visit. But he had not wanted to see Kaena or Gabriel, and Silas clearly wasn’t able to offer the man anything. Yet Silas didn’t want him to leave just yet, unknowingly appreciating his simple presence there solely so he would no longer be alone. "Tell me about zhose scars, ya?" Perhaps he’d keep the man around a little longer, and Silas could take a break from the melancholy thoughts that constantly plagued him.
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