Ankyra Sound something rotten in the state of denmark

Vlad was no stranger to this phase of negotiations. It was only natural for Caiaphas to doubt every twisted syllable put forth by the stranger, but Vlad was nothing if not persistent. His survival - and likely hers - hinged on making fast friends before winter slapped its mighty hand down on the Teekon Wilds and began to squeeze.

"No cetch," he assured her with a quick shake of his mottled head. "Vlad hev good face for to invite many wolf, you hev good face for lead - scerry, ruaargh! Is good metch!" To further assuage her suspicions, the Russian sat back on the cold sand and slumped his shoulders, assuming a posture one would associate with 'having a chill time' and not the tension inherent in two desperate strangers meeting for the first time. A look came over him then - as though he had just remembered something unfortunate. "Is.. one cetch," he admitted, rolling his shoulders. "My numbers two wolf, he... very ugly. Heving face like ess of rett, making eyes burn." The mask cracked and fell from his face almost as soon as it had settled there, giving way to the force of his crooked, yellow grin. "Joke," he guffawed. "Is no cetch. Make peck or make ded - I know this true and you also."

*eyebrow-waggle*