There's been far too much to take in in the last seven days. The death of the Spade Jack, the sabbatical taken by the Heart Jack, Avery's accident. The Deck was literally down three of its four Jacks, and he and Rachel had to make a decision on what to do about their own, just as David and Katya needed to replace Sieben, and Ceiro and Judith would have to make do without Athena. Silas really can't figure out what he's supposed to do anymore, so just for now, he's immersing himself in things that aren't work.
He's already built three ships in empty bottles, and now he's sitting under a tree -- with a blanket under him, of course -- reading an ornately covered copy of Wile's The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's a personal favorite, and it's good for the brain.
That he's largely dressed...casually may worry people. Jeans -- Versace, yes, but still denim -- and a plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him to expose a pair of
Pumas. He was comfortable, and somehow even his casual dress managed to be expensive, but oh well.
He turned a page, smiled fondly. He did so love this book.