Date: 2010-02-19 06:12 pm (UTC)
Cheslav nodded, slowly.

"Boys are resilient," he murmured.

He remembered his company, and turned his head, smiling in brief apology. "Well, young men, that is."

This particular young man was very well-spoken in a way Cheslav interpreted as well-read and well-educated, yet still grounded. He comported himself with a confidence that belied his boyish face. He looked all of sixteen to Cheslav; he spoke like he was at least twenty-five.

Still, there were few young men who enjoyed being mistaken for boys.

Cheslav glanced back toward the kitchen.

"My wife died several years ago. My son took it as well as can be expected."

Cheslav did not add that he had also taken it as well as could be expected, though he knew his circumstances had been much different than Aleksandr's.

He slowed his steps. The door to the kitchen stood at an angle, half open. Half closed. Light spilled into the dim hall.

"There...hasn't been much said, about Avdotia's death."

Cheslav paused, hesitating.

"Is there...anything I should know?"
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February 2010

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