As Sylvia wheeled into Aleksandr's bedroom the two men started talking. Father Seraphim handed Aleksandr a dish, "The first time I met your mother--"

"I don't care," Aleksandr cut him off. He was not particularly interested in their story. He never was. He never wanted to hear it. He grabbed the dish and began soaking it in water.

"She loved you a lot," Father Seraphim tried to sound positive, but there was a sadness in his voice. He looked at Aleksandr, seeing Theodora in him. Alas, Aleksandr, at times, made him miss Theodora all the more, "Have you showed Sylvia any of the icons you painted?" He made a half smile, just like the one Aleksandr had previously given Sylvia. Aleksandr knew the face all too well--he only inherited it from his father.

"No," Aleksandr shrugged, not particularly thinking she would be interested in his religious artwork. He wasn't even fond of it.

Father Seraphim nudged Aleksandr playfully, "I know how you think about her," he tried to change the subject unsuccessfully.

Aleksandr said nothing for a while before speaking, "I thought you warned me."

Father Seraphim sighed, "I was a bit older than you before returning to Russia," he reminisced.

"I don't want to hear it," Aleksandr hissed, as he finished washing the dish. He dried it off and slammed the towel down on the counter, "I'm going to go shower..." He stalked away from the kitchen. 

Father Seraphim made a frown. Clearly, he was not understanding the situation.

Aleksandr opened the bathroom door and drew the shower water. He removed his shirt and pants and briefs. He hesitantly looked in the bathroom mirror at himself. A small frown, identical to his father's sketched over his lips. He hopped into the cold shower and began washing himself. Part of him thought of Sylvia; the other part thought of how annoyed he was with his father. [@Arista]