310 <3
He flip-flopped quickly between the options of howling for another and remaining where he was, waiting for someone to happen upon him—just as he would inhale a breath to howl, he second-guessed himself again and shut his mouth. He was locked in this decision, contemplating it, when another happened upon him and solved his dilemma for him. It wasn't Nayati, but the man did recognize the bottle. To this Rurik grinned broadly and held it up. “Oh yes, vodka,” he said, turning toward the other canine and wagging his tail. “I am Rurik Russo, I come from Cour des Miracles. I make friend here last time, named Nayati. Maybe you know?” he said pausing to allow the other man to answer.
“But you drink with me, for good of packs?” the man said, determined to make a good impression. He knew the wind would come and take him away sooner or later; he intended to make the absolute best of whatever time he had left. Rurik was also convinced that the best way to go about doing this was to bestow alcoholic gifts to their neighbors and drink it with them; he would have to pay a visit to the other packs, eventually, but for now he was content to do his work here. He felt no particular itch to move on just yet, of course—his children might still need him, after all. He had only just gotten settled in, and the Miracles packlands were brand new to the silver-furred Russian. There was no denying it, though—he'd been unable to stay in one place for long for many years now. The last attempt he'd made at settling had been on this very continent, in fact—and it had failed miserably, of course, though there were few around who could repeat the sad and sorry tale of Syemv.
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