"War? War?" Now who was being absurd? "There is only one good song about war and it goes War, huh, yeah, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing!" He sang with a real vocal and physical (hip thrust and everything) emphasis on that huh, as you do when singing that song, because the Temptations clearly put it there for a reason, but Edwin Starr made it a thing. Satyrs did have a real love for nature, but... Sid personally had a real bent for love songs. Songs about nature were for Elizabethan weirdos writing soppy pastorals. "Never? Never ever?" How did one wind up being as old as she and never fall in--oh. Wait right. Sheltered. "Oh, we're going to have to fix that. You absolutely must experience it." There was no better drug, and believe him, he'd tried to find one.
This was a judgement free zone. Except when Oksana was around, apparently. Because Sid had definitely felt judged on his outfit on more than one occasion (but clearly she didn't know anything about personal style), but the kitchen was guest free, so no judgement here at all. He squirmed a little at the fingers tracing his spine--so ticklish--the sensation settling after a moment to where it was less tickly and more comforting. "We'll get you properly corrupted in no time!"
There was no doubt she was right, though he was still getting used to the idea of owning and residing in something with four walls. "It's the first home I've had to contend with, but it's not too bad so far." Thankfully his uncle's tastes weren't offensive to him. He wouldn't have to do much to the place to make it his own aside from some minor tweaks.