-- Not as bad as meeee.
Vasiliy is by Sunny!
Although their accents were at odds and Vasiliy could not completely understand her at first, he liked her accent. Perhaps it was simple solidarity in encountering someone like him -- someone with only a rudimentary grasp on this language, their foreignness and strangeness proclaimed in each word and every odd emphasis of speech. He nodded slowly and smiled, though he was not quite certain how to respond: his first instinct was, naturally, "I like to walk, too" but he choked that response back with some effort. Unfortunately, after scrambling for something else to say, the dark-hued Russian was not certain just how to respond, and so he opened his jaws and said only, "um." His quiet thereafter was immediate and awkward.
Walking is -- good, he said, lamely. His smile, which had become almost pained, became excruciating. The granite-colored male leapt at her question, shaking his head vigorously. No, no, he said. I give treat to horses. No big deal, he said, waving a hand. He'd already passed out treats to most of the equines therein; those who hadn't yet received their tidbit could wait until later. A packmate might need his help -- or perhaps simply want his company? He could only dare hope it was the latter.
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