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The tawny-furred werewolf hadn't seen Nayati act like that toward his spirit guide, and the bright blue eyes of the werewolf grew perplexed as Attila spoke. He laughed when the man told him not to speak to animals, grinning his wide grin toward the other man. “No problem, man. Never much vanted to talk to animals anyways. I like talking to others better,” he said, wagging his tail. “S'funny that you don't like your speereet, though. I had troublesome one living in mine house—nothing make heem happy!” the silvery werewolf declared, speaking of the Syemv house's domovoi. The house spirit had never been a kindly one, and Rurik had never been able to placate it.
At the mention of girls, however, the werewolf laughed heartily again, nodding his head enthusiastically. “So many pretty ladies here, I know!” the werewolf said, sighing heavily. He had his fun with some of them, true, but for Rurik, it was never really enough. He certainly wasn't a mugwump when it came to sex—he liked it and he wasn't afraid to admit that at all. “The women, they always do,” he agreed, tilting his head back to sip from the bottle of liquor once more, passing it over to his comrade. “Gotta love it,” he added, sighing softly, his breath coated with the fire of alcohol.
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