Want to be God, the Devil, like me?
The man would confess that he did not know her well. That was obvious. He probably would have skipped over this drunk fuck if he had known her and her manic depressive ways that would instill his son's own mind with it's own stupid issues. He had to be grateful for Lyndi though, and his father, this Rurik Russo man that stood like a tower in front of him. Mars shook his head. You don't want to know her. Trust me. the American had spoken to the man, his father. Mars still was feeling weird about actually being here in front of his father after almost three years of never meeting him. Maybe things were going to be okay after all. Just maybe. The Russo man would then speak further, of being a man. He would tell him that his great grandfather never cursed or smoked. He only drank red wine. White wine was probably hard to find. He gave a hollow smile to his father, finding the musing to be rather sweet. His father would finish with saying "All kinds of man" which Mars took as that there were all different types of men, not just the ones who cursed and smelt bad. Mars found his father's words to be charming in the stupidest sense. Aye, All kinds of man indeed. Mars spoke, his voice level.
Rurik would go on to tell him that he'd do whatever he wanted. Mars nodded his head and was happy with the flexibility of his father. His father then would go on to speak about California again. It was hot and beautiful and that he had only been there once. The husky's fur was thinner because of the climate that he had come from, and though it had been almost a gradual change of environment from when he was in the mountain areas, his coat had not had enough time to properly fill out. It's cold here.. the man spoke to the other. My fur seems to be still used to California. It hasn't been long enough for me to grow in yet. and there was the reason that he was fully clothed. It was much cooler here than in California around the same time, and the wind feeling on his fur had become weird to him here. Eventually he will get used to it. Dad told him that he must had had his reasons to steal Vox, and Mars agreed. Hell the fuck yeah he had perfectly good reasons. Number one would be the year of hell that she had put him through. While Mars couldn't kill his mother, he definitely could steal her prized steed before she was able to find a mare to breed him with. Mars found that to be his own problem now, but he wouldn't worry about it too soon, since he wasn't in a hurry for a foal.
Dad would also tell him that whatever he wanted to do at the moment goes. So, being the porch monkey that he was, Mars lead his father back to where he was sitting (another chair sitting next to the one he had picked for himself) and he had picked up his guitar. Come and sit, I'll play some music for you. the man spoke to his father as he pointed to the chair next to him, and invited him over. Tell me, Do any of the Russos play music? he asked as he started to run his fingers over the guitar strings, strumming a simple tune at the current moment as he awaited for his father to sit down before he really began to get into the song. He left the tempo loose and quiet so they could easily speak while he was playing (which was a good skill of his) and to not be rude to his father. After all. This was his dad that he was talking to. He didn't know this man as far as just outside looks now. He didn't know the personality behind this Rurik Russo, and to even call him dad was a big step for him that he would take in time he supposed.
Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks