Anatoly wasn't paying much attention to how Svetlana could read him at the moment. He mostly just chalked it up to the fact that Svetlana did know him. He also wasn't the best at hiding these sorts of things about himself. At least not in this life. Anatoly's heart tended to be on his sleeve far more often than not.
Comparing this life to the life he dreamt of in the dreams, he far favored having this life. At least in this world, Natasha was alive and had a chance to come home one day. In the dreams, she'd died, and it seemed his dream self never stopped feeling that loss. Watching someone you loved die was never easy, and Anatoly had been a mother hen before Natasha had died. The mother hen tendencies seemed to be a common trait between him and his dream self.
"Truly? That is strange in a way."
Because stating the obvious of what Svetlana had just said was what Anatoly did best. But he said it mostly as he turned the thoughts over in his head. A father and daughter here, who were also dreaming, reminded him and Svetlana of their siblings. That was indeed something to ponder.
"Perhaps it is simply another way of how Orange County is explicitly strange."