She had taken his invitation to join him on the crumbling concrete curb, and he nodded his head at the bottles to signal that she was free to drink from them whenever she so chose. Silas was starting to feel a little light headed, but this was far from the condition he would most certainly be in at the end of the day. "Ya, Russian vodka. Zhe very best. Mine family ees from Russia. Eet ees very far avay. Far over zhe ocean," he raised a hand and gestured in the general direction of the Halifax harbor. He couldn’t possibly think of a way to explain just how far Russia was. The journey had been arduous, but the adventure had been so captivating to such a young boy.
As he listened to her speak of Phoenix Valley, Silas reached for one of the bottles. A quick tilt of the palm followed by a grimace, and another swallow of vodka was down the youth’s throat. He did not enjoy the burn, but that didn’t stop him. "Mine family all go back to Russia. Zhey left me here." His features visually gained weight with his words, as if the thought of their departure had added some sort of tangible heaviness to the boy. "But ees nice you ‘ave your family to be vith in zhe Phoenix Valley. Eet ees nice zhere, ya?" He let the bottle settle onto the concrete beside them once more with a light clatter.
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