Msistlav had to have been the worst name of the four, the height of Louis's crack smoking days. You know, if he had actually smoked crack. Instead of just been weird about naming his sons. Maybe so many years in the fashion business was enough to corrupt pretty much everyone's mind to craziness and butthole jeans or something. Whatever those crazy fashion people did. Louis had not exactly been pleased over the fact that none of his four sons had enjoyed being clotheshorses, and had actually kind of been all over the place.
Slav had worn things Louis had given him, on odd occasions, and usually would get yelled at for wearing some designer label shirt to work under a car. But what else was he supposed to wear when he had not attempted to launch an attack on the washing machine to shrink his clothes quite yet.
Good thing they had had a housekeeper. Seriously.
With a good humored snort in trade for the bird flippage, Slav looked confused for a moment. "Breakfast?" It was quite possible all that focus on things not of the car or female variety had temporarily shorted out Slav's brain. It happened sometimes. He could be perfectly focused and centered, and then like a switch be into glitching mode. "I meant to get food, I think. I dunno." There was a reason he was tall but thinner than both the twins, he often forgot to eat. He meant to, he just...forgot.