Danger is such a relative thing. He'd learned that at a very young age, watching the family dog--almost a nursemaid to him, infinitely patient and kind and more than half the reason Aleksei had learned to walk as quickly as he had--turn vicious on an intruder to their little home. It's just a matter of making certain to either be endeared to the dangerous ones, or else dangerous enough oneself.

Both angles were being worked on, generally. Not at the moment, perhaps--not actively. But enough.

"What, to the lake? I don't think Mister Chives would take kindly to be throwing stones in his halls."