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:3
His hands were on his hips as he watched her with a steady gaze as she struggled with the flame. Light brown eyebrows lowered with impatience as she flicked the tool several times without ignition. Suddenly, the chiming of bells rang in his ears and he straightened quickly, startled by the sound. It was only the fishing pole, struggling against the weight of a seemingly large fish. Stunned, Denver's gaze shot back to her just in time to catch the lighter flying at his face. Baffled, he blinked and watched as she got to work, impressed by her strength and agility. Bending down, he fussed with the lighter's fickle flame as she wrestled with the water-dweller.
The ivory mutt was growling with impatience when the spark finally caught on the kindling. At the same time, the Russian woman had managed to haul the writhing creature from the water, holding it's bulky weight up by the line. Again, she had impressed him. Denver wondered if he could reel in a fish like that, with just his hands. 'Course I can, he thought with a snort of laughter, rising from the slowly-growing flames to inspect her catch. "That's a big fish," he commented simply with a grin, his eyes wide with excitement at the prospect of eating such fresh meat.
The crunch as the fish died was sickening, and Denver cringed. His tongue pressed against his teeth at the thought of fish heads floating in a soup; it sounded truly gross, but he said nothing, only nodding a vaguely stunned response. As the gypsy-woman passed him, she gave him a nudge. Glancing up to her, his pale eyes narrowed, his open mouth closing and forming a thin, growing smile. He glanced to the sea as she knelt for her bag. "Oh, maybe she does. Didn't know we were on good terms again," he said with a short chuckle, kneeling beside the fire again to fan it's flame, poking and prodding the kindling about to get it really burning. "I think the fire likes me more," he admitted.