Vanya: "Shoveling manure is shoveling manure, but that manure-shoveling friend of yours is now a Colonel!"
Filippov chuckled.
Vanya picked up a cup of coffee and poured it into the hostess's potted plant: "May it grow faster!"
Then he opened his flask, poured its contents into the coffee cup, and handed it to Filippov.
Filippov took a sip; it was pure Antean vodka.
"Good heavens," he said, "if you could speak Prosenese, you could sell this to Father Stas and make yourself a fortune!"
Vanya: "Of course! After all, the local taverns only serve beer that's like horse piss. Here, have some too."
Saying this, Vanya picked up another cup, poured the coffee into the potted plant, filled it with vodka, and handed it to the staff officer.
The group shared a few sips like this, and then Filippov plopped onto the sofa, pulled out his harmonica, and started playing a tune from the new collection of military songs he'd received just before the offensive.
