Aleksei nodded slowly and offered a sad smile to the woman. Running away from your problems was always easy, and it might just work for some people, but for him it’d always feel like he was abandoning love. If there ever came a time where that love withered, or felt less genuine, less like guilt, perhaps … but, for now, it wasn’t on his mind. Grief was.

He laughed at her jest, shrugging his shoulders. “I suppose that’s right.” But it was not left at that—it would never be left with the pleasantries, would it? Lilya went on, and spoke of her deceased family. Aleksei slipped up mentally, struggled to understand how she found it so easy to just say it. He swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. How awkward. He made the mental note to not thrust the news of his father’s passing onto any old stranger. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

She apologised, and he shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine.” But it wasn’t—it was awkward, and he wasn’t sure where the hell the conversation could go from there. Still, he could show some empathy beyond just uncertainly staggering over his words. “I understand. You must miss them.” Aleksei frowned, licked his lips nervously. “I know I miss my dad, and he’s just one wolf. Your whole family … it must have been rough.” He wouldn’t pry, didn’t want to frankly. He’d like to distance himself from the talk of death.

It was all very morbid.