Silas didn’t know what ritualistic meant, but somehow the boy thought that its connotation was negative. He raised an arm as if to catch Heath if he stumbled too far, and Silas too lost his balance. The Russian wavered a moment before he steadied himself, and the two continued on as if neither had missed a beat. It was more refreshing to be out in the open, rather in the store which had acquired a strange musk of dust and dampness. Silas took in a deep breath of fresh air and felt his mind clear for the slightest moment. A rosy bloom was spreading beneath his fur as the alcohol began to settle. It was nice to feel this way again, as he had some time ago across the ocean with his brother back in Russia.
Had Heath not spoken, Silas would have almost forgotten it was him and not Anatoliy at his side. He turned to the Cours man, features twisting in confusion at the words spoken. "Ve?" He asked, unsure. Silas knew that he did not love any woman aside from his mother or his living sister, and he was pretty sure that Heath did not know of either. He didn’t quite understand. "Huh?" He chimed, now studying Heath in a new, confused light.
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