[ Konstantin had never been a particularly sentimental man. Never one to form... attachments, it could be said — for most things. Certainly not to little tangible items.

But these days... He finds himself picking up that small nevalyashka doll almost daily, to hold it in his hands, as though afraid to forget the shape of it. It hurts, what it reminds him of. But it's a bittersweet hurt, something he doesn't quite want to let go of. It's the only physical reminder he has of his son, and although the item didn't even belong to Aleksei, perhaps some part of Konstantin even equates it to the boy. Puts that sort of value on it, as though the little thing is a literal piece of the child he mourns daily.

Sometimes it might help. Or... not help, exactly; that actually seems the wrong word for it. It does something. But there's a solemn nod as Bigby says he'll simply remember the man — and that, too, is an importance of its own. Keeping someone in the memory.

He looks up again as the other offers to help him look, hesitating only a moment as he glances back to the modest living area in the back of the church. This man really could be dangerous, given he believes he's a werewolf and feeds on raw, wild animals, but.... face to face, he's never really been anything other than a bit gruff around the edges. Besides, he'd like to learn more about the other guy... what his deal is. How all of them ended up here. So Bigby's statement is a perfect segue into that, and Konstantin's smiling at him, invitingly. ]

Detective work is a lot more fun with a partner, right? [ He takes a step that way, tilting his head towards the room that the men lived in, casting a quick glance around the place. A few leftover tools, a bed, and... more of those feathers on the floor. ]

You said you did this kind of thing back home.... What exactly did you do, if you don't mind me asking?