"I have written to one such witch," Antonin commenting on Arcturus' statement about wizards from 'far off lands'. "Though she called herself a mage." Funny word, that... it rolled off his tongue in such a way that his Russian accent had a difficult time pronouncing.
"1940," he echoed these words with sentimental feeling. "Those were good days. Da, it is my past, but I remember it well. Those were the days of my youth."
He waited patiently as Arcturus dealt with the carriage man, pretending to gaze out at the surrounding village, but closely keeping them in his peripheral vision, on guard, suspicious, all the while his face revealing no emotion. He came when summoned, and automatically breathed a sigh of relief when he was able to sit down after being on his feet - how he hated this weakness, Oh! To be strong and fit once more!
"How far away is this place you are taking me?" he wondered to Arcturus.