(--) lol, basically! "GET LAID MORE, TOO"
Vasiliy is by me!
Oh, no, he said, shaking his head. All need humor and laughs in life, he said, shrugging. His own family had its weird traditions and stupid jokes none but a Russo would laugh at, after all. I like Duck, yes, he concluded, his attention focusing on the pitch. It was thick and stuck to the sides of the jar, hardly moving at all as she drew it out. This was good -- liquid and runny pitch was no good at all, as it was a thick, almost-solid sort of substance in its proper form. Vasiliy knew little about the substance other than its one obvious use: the boat's waterproofing.
Aye, he responded. The oil -- I will not use, but some others maybe will like, he said, grinning. Vasiliy did not pepper himself with flowery stinks and perfumes; he smelled as he'd always smelled. That is, distinctively wolfy and distinctively strange, bearing a scent that might evoke memories of cold places and winter nights. The pitch will be good for our boat, the man explained.
Will you pick which birds want? he said, jerking a thumb. They are all same to me, the granite-furred man confessed, rolling both shoulders in a helpless shrug. He did not know how to select a good egg-bearer nor a rooster likely to stud: fish and boats and hunting wild game were his specialty, not these livestocks. Even horses were only cursorily understood by the dark-furred man. I will help carry whatever you'd like, he suggested, thinking they ought to keep the pitch squirreled away somewhere, out of sight of other traders. They would not want that to get traded off accidentally, after all.
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