Chess, Not Checkers

Sirius snickered softly at the expected first-reaction. Art did manage to avoid a coughing fit, so he did pretty well there. “You can get different grades of bitterness in a wine.” he remarked, but… at the end of the day, he hadn’t bothered with the stuff enough to tell the boy a great deal of detail.

He took a sip himself, feeling it burn down his throat. When he removed the bottle from his lips, he looked over to Artorias, and saw the sincerity in the others' eyes. The appreciation in his smile. Storms, did the boy really look up to the Warlord?

“You're my godson Art, family.” he said, as though that explained it all. He passed the bottle back to the younger wolf.

"Sirius Fatalis"