“I think she can sleep in my room, and I’ll get the couch,” Aleksandr decided to get that conversation out of the way.

Father Seraphim nodded his head, “Fair enough,” he looked at Sylvia’s thin smile.  He knew the house wasn’t the friendliest or most welcoming looking.  He could assure her it was better than what he had in Russia!  However, bringing up Russia was probably not the best social response, “Well…” he looked down and then back at the two young ones, “I am going to make myself some lunch,” he paused, “Why don’t you show Sylv to your room?” He eyed Aleksandr, motioning towards the bedrooms.

Aleksandr glanced at his bedroom.  The door was wide open.  He made a small frown and wheeled Sylvia to his bedroom, “Well, there is the bathroom,” he pointed towards a door down the hall from the bedrooms, “And this is my room,” he said grimly, pushing the wheelchair through the bedroom door, “Ummm… this is my bed,” he was just talking to talk at this point.  His bed was a mess.  It looked like either he never made his bed in the morning or he had had a rough night’s sleep.  There were books scattered on the floor,  “My room kind of looks like shit right now,” he said lowly, cautiously as if his dad would sprout from the wood work for hearing him say a cuss word, “I don’t know, what do you want to do, right now? I need to change the sheets on my bed—they’re probably gross,” he hadn’t meant to use the word gross, but it came out, anyways. The house was clearly a male only household, and until now, Aleksandr had mostly turned a blind eye towards it.

The smell of soup started resonating through the household from the kitchen.  Aleksandr turned his attention toward the entrance of the room and then back at Sylvia. [@Arista]