(--)
Vasiliy is by me!
Though Vasiliy possessed some minor proficiency in many skills, he was master of none. The dusky-furred Russian was only good for fishing and boating, and even then, his skills paled in comparison to older Russos and the sea-farers who had carried him across the Atlantic. There were a great many more things he did not know how to do, and this meant -- in Vasiliy's mind, anyway -- he was unskilled and good for very little. Though Skye had offered praise to him and others before her, he remained unconvinced.
Her approach was one that reminded him of their last meeting. Her manner of walking had not changed a bit, and he was glad to see this. Still, he kept his eyes respectful, focused on her face. While he never quite made eye contact, he did not glance at her body more than was absolutely necessary, though he yearned to do so. She spoke about the cat, and disappointment flickered in him briefly. He knew nothing about cats, and could not help her! As she continued, however, his hopes soared upward again, and he grinned broadly.
Aaaha, he breathed. Aye, fish good for cat. And Vasiliy know how to fish. He was infinitely glad Isabella had asked something he was actually good at, so much so that it did not even strike him as odd that she'd take a three day trip just to learn fishing. Come, let us go to coast, he invited, waving his hand. Want I lead Ducky?
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