He held the bottle of vodka in his hands, studying it for a moment in surprise. Somehow, Silas would have never guessed that he would find a remnant of home here in this strange land. It was oddly comforting and it gave him a great sense of pride to be passing on the knowledge to someone else who had yet to experience a taste of home. "The best," Silas responded, already lifting fingers to work at the cap of the bottle. Upon opening it, he raised it to his muzzle to investigate the smell as if it had been replaced with something else. But no, this was the real deal.
At the elevated tone of Heath’s voice, a grin broadened across Silas’ features. "We drink," he repeated, but with much more fervor this time. He lifted the bottle into the air, smiling all the while, and then titled the neck and took a hearty swallow before resurfacing for air.
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