Aleister felt...clumsy. The distinction between how he spoke and how the foreigner-native-whatever, spoke was clear. His words were smoother. More confident. More....lithe. If a word could be lithe. If the concept could apply.  "....I am from Carpathia." The larger feline replied. His words were slow. Careful. Still slowed, somewhat, by the drugs. But more so by his own lack of mastery with this foreign tongue. "The ah. Deeper parts. The forests and mountains." It was an interesting land, a good place to live, if you could stand the winters. A land clad in ancient castles and ruins.<br/><br/>With myth and the occult.<br/><br/>And last, but not least, home to the Octoberists.  "...I was a fighter for freedom, yes? In my homeland. We wore the black and the red, and battled with the government. With the police. With the ones that would....take from us. Others march and shout in the streets...we...fight." He looked the other cat over again, curious. "If you want to know ah. Sullivan. I suspect I killed one of my captors. I was not....ah..." He shot the other feline a grin. A feral one. One that spoke of bloody brawls and gunfire in the night. And, most strangely of all for a cat, a grin that spoke of a certain reckless courage.<br/><br/>"An easy prisoner for them to keep."<br/><br/>He let out a small, heart laugh at the thought. Then his mind returned to the task at hand. To the situation at hand. He looked at Sullivan, appraising him.  "We will need to escape this place." Blunt. "I know what is going to happen here-and ah. It nothing you want to see." They were going to be sold, more then likely. And.....<br/><br/>Well.<br/><br/>He did not want to dwell on what came after.