Sergei let out a long moan, lying back in the driver's seat of Stephanie's parked wagon. He took a long swig from his glass flask of liquor, wiping away what dribbled out of his cheek-hole.
"Suppose it's comfy enough." he sighed, cracking his neck. "Hey, girl. The hell do you sleep? Wagon bed? It's made of wood; your back must be sore every morning."

He scratched his head. "For that matter, whaddya sell? I got cash, so d'you sell grape wine? Cider? I don't suppose you have beds for sell; I'd sooner spend the night in an alley than with a thief. Y'ask me, nobody needs to go around, stealing from people that earned their piece fair and square."