Mihail did not know where his mind had been since that fateful family meal. It was as if Father had considered everything which would frustrate the boy and piled each nuisance together to harm him as much as possible. As if he desired his youngest son's death, and he wanted Mihail to die both dressed as a peasant and with pain in his heart. Of course, he had attempted to convince himself that it was far from possible, and that Father could not be so unreasonable as to wish him dead, but Dionysios had always been unpredictable, and he could hardly be sure.

As such, he had hidden away in his chambers as he always did when something was wrong, and Nethisa didn't seem to be an option. He was in one of those moods where nothing seemed to help, and he had not even managed to drown his sorrows in drink or drugs or sex. Instead, he had focussed on writing, trying to note down anything which came to mind in that illegible font of his, as if the panic of his situation would throw him into a state of mind which would discover some philosophical breakthrough. Mihail was confident that he must have stunk of wine - he always fell into the trap of alcohol when anything seemed to go wrong in his life - but for once, he did not care about cleanliness.

It might have been morning, and it might well have been the middle of the night. He wasn't sure. The shutters in his chambers had been closed since he had trapped himself inside after Father's announcements (if it was dark, then at least he could not see his disgusting new garments), and he had refused to exit unless it was a necessity. He was slumped on his bed when the knock came on the door, and he would have ignored it, had the voice on the other side not noticeably been his sister's. No servant would have been so foolish as to him by such an intimate nickname.

Still, Mihail heaved himself to his feet as the door was pushed open, moving to meet Thea as she entered, as it seemed inappropriate to fail to greet her when she had gone to the effort of visiting him, and he tended to care for his sisters even when he was in one of those irritable moods of his. "Thea," he whispered, curving his lips upwards into his current best attempt at a smile, though his eyes still brimmed with sadness. Mihail nodded at a set of seats to one side, as if by way of offering his sister a place, though he leaned in to kiss her lightly on the cheek before moving towards them himself. "Do come in. I would offer you a drink but...I think I may have run out."

It seemed that Thea was not here to chastise her little brother, which was reassuring. Though he did not think himself to be in the wrong for what had occurred at the family dinner - and he was certain Father's actions had been more than a little unnecessary - he supposed he had been somewhat provocative. Nethis would surely have said something, masking her kindness behind the rebuke, but he could sense from the way Thea kissed his cheek and the way their hands connected that she had come with nothing more than good intentions.

His gaze floated downwards to rest on the unexpected parcel in her hands, and an excited grin spread across his numb features which had not appeared in a long while. He may have finished his supply of wine, but he was glad to take something else in its place, and Thea had just the right thing. "Oh, Thea, you always do know how to cheer me," he answered, his tone more jovial now that the mood had lightened, although it maintained that awkward underlying upset which suited the moment. "If only my other sisters could offer me such indulgences as you."

As soon as they had started to smoke, he felt marginally better. It was always the case with him: though life may have seemed a veritable nightmare for a good few minutes, it was only a few minutes into having his way that Mihail could be cheered, and, though his troubles mercilessly continued to exist, the effect of the drugs almost made them vanish. It momentarily felt as though there was nothing left in the world but himself and Thea, and it was immensely satisfying. The youngest Thanasi enjoyed the loss of his fears for a short while as he lolled backwards on a cushioned kline beside his sister.

Mihail's eyes were starting to shut, so that he watched Thea through thick eyelashes as she spoke, lips still quirked into a slightly amused smile, slouching to rest his head absentmindedly on her shoulders as if he were still much smaller. "Father will not forget," he muttered in response, even though their father had never been the most reliable of men. His illness had seen to that. "Th-there are few things which he always remembers, and...and I know this is one of them." Whether he referred to the entire ordeal at the dinner or solely his own upset, he was not sure.

The man let his eyes follow Thea's to focus on the same rug, watching the way the miniature figures in the design battled one another, and he felt his heartbeat rise in panic. His hand reached to grip his sister's arm, the sudden sense of anxiety an uncommon effect of smoking for him. He was usually far calmer, and he had hoped this meeting would not turn to stress. "Thea. Do you think I will die...in the war?" His eyes widened, though he did not turn to face her. "I have no armour. I cannot fight. I will die." He sighed, reaching for the pipe once more to take a long and relaxing drag. "I do not want to die."

He could not open his eyes, and he could not quite face his older sister but, somehow, Mihail managed to shift his gaze, allowing Thea to hold his face in her hand and leaning into the touch of her hand. It felt like the kind of softness that he would not feel for a long time now, and it was all he wanted to stay here for the longest time and sit by her side, smoking and pretending that nothing had ever changed. But that could never be, because too much had changed of late. He was barely a Thanasi by now, and he was off to war. The world was different.

"I...I am," he whispered, though the words were a struggle, and he wasn't sure he agreed with them any longer. Something lingering at the back of Mihail's mind would not let go of that streak of arrogance that had been instilled in him from a young age, promising that he was still wise, and he still knew how to pull himself from a difficult situation. He watched the way her long fingers ran across his arm and felt the dark hairs perk up in response to the sensation, and the way his words hitched awkwardly at the back of his throat. "I d-do not want their armour. Please. Th-thea. I need something goo...the best. I want you to take me — only you, no one else — I want you to take me to get the nice armour. That bronze one. Please, Thea?"

He didn't know enough about the army or war or anything like that, only the soldiers that were known the best and always seemed to survive had armour like that. The Kotas family definitely did, and they always seemed to make it through all of their battles. "Just one final little shopping trip, yes? You and me and no one else. Please?" That seemed fair to Mihail. A nice treat — if one could call it as such — that would allow them to bond a little more before he was forced to leave. Maybe with better armour, he would feel safer too.

Thea's slight towards their brother was enough to remove all the fear from Mihail's mind for a brief moment, and he emitted a similar giggle of his own, lighter because the joviality had yet to return to his spirit. "No. You cannot keep company with them. I...I have to survive." For her, if for nothing else. He took a long drag from the pipe she had given him, allowing the drugs to seep throughout him and relax him into a far softer state. "I will try. For you. For Nethis and Evras too."

The younger Thanasi leaned in further, sliding across the remaining gap between them on the kline as best he could to press himself as close to his sister as possible, almost holding her in the closest thing to a hug he could manage with the pipe resting in his hand. "Thank you for coming, Thea. I needed someone. I needed...this. I love you."