She appeared and the Russo grinned broadly at her, adjusting his grip on the fishing pole. He was careful to keep the hook from detaching from the line, or else it would bury itself into his head or shoulder, and that was not something he wanted to attempt to dig out. Again. He once had a hook jammed underneath his skin on his arm, and it had hurt like nothing he had felt ever before. Anatoliy would be glad to never experience it again. The pole clanked against his shoulder as he adjusted it, eying the woman as she emerged adjusting her belt. "You too, zhough it is not a surprise for me," he answered, laughing a little bit.
"Yes, ve are going fishing. You need to learn if you are going to be here by the sea. Vhat if you drown? Zhen vhat?" He leaned over and knocked on a tree. It was superstition, but why encourage fate to do something like that? Besides, Anatoliy did not know the woman well enough yet. Maybe in the future, when he knew enough of her, maybe then. No, no, he was kidding. The Russo was not that kind of a heartless bastard. "Come, before zhe fish all svim avay. You have a date vith zhe sea."
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