(437) 8D !!~ Omg Rob+achohol=funniest thing ever[/html]
Robert watched as the man played with something, and observed as he rearranged cigarettes with vague interest. Not many smoked around here, and the natural, teen-esque curiosity poked at his brain, but decided not to ask about them as the man tucked the cigarette under his head garment--which he found a little strange, but again, did not press for an answer. He continued to feed off of the fish as he went on to explain what kind it was. He knew what s bass was, or at least had a pretty good idea, but he became lost at the mention of line bass. But, he did not allow his lack of knowledge to show, and he nodded sagely anyway. "The bass tastes good, in any case--it's a good catch, on your part."
When a drink was requested, Vasiliy reached over and brought out a rather unsightly container, the shadow of its contents squishing like water. But, the faint scent and the man's words proved otherwise. At the mention of waiting to drink after he was finished eating, he hurried and ate the last few bites. He didn't want to keep Vasiliy took long, and a small drink of the stuff wouldn't hurt, right? He had wine before, at the ball, so it couldn't be any different. He gingerly took the bottle from the man, and perked his ears at the warning, and he felt a little guilty. He didn't want to drink something so special, something rare that was from his homeland. The idea of offending him by declining the drink echoed in his mind though, and guessed the only thing he could do was thank him even more for his hospitality.
He was musing over where Vasiliy came from, Russia, when he took a liberal swig of the achocol. The liquid flame that danced down his throat surprised him, and he held the bottle away from him as he spluttered harshly, but managing to keep the fire within him. With a ragged breath, he wheezed, "God, Vasiliy... This is strong." For a moment, he considered handing back the bottle--but if the man could handle it, he could, too, he supposed. He lifted the bottle back up to his lips, and only allow an ember of the inferno to slide into his mouth. It wasn't better the second time around, but at least he wasn't coughing out a lung. He passed the bottle back to Vasiliy, perhaps to start a cycle of passing the achohol back and forth. "Where's Russia, anyway? What kind of place is it?" Must be some hardy people if they could handle that, he thought.
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