Silas watched with a grin plastered as Heath made his way to one of the sheleves and removed a bottle. The man muttered words to himself, but Silas disregarded them for now. He was too interested in the things in the store, and also, the flag hanging in the window. He was already planning to perhaps come back and take it for himself once Heath was stumbling his way back home.
Among rows and shelves of bottles, one in particular caught Silas’ eye. He lifted the slightly frosted glass bottle in one hand, running the fingers of the other over the silver neck. The symbols Русский стандарт on the red and silver label were familiar to the boy, as they were Cyrillic letters. He had to take a moment to think of how to say it, but Silas was pretty sure the translation was correct. "Russian Standard," he told Heath, waging the bottle in the air with a grin. "We drink?"
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