C’aint get mad at a thing you ain’t know about. Instead of Volterra associating this with something to do with Isopia, he badly misunderstands what she means, his ale-addled head refusing to point him towards the logical answer. He comically furrows his brow and tilts his head as though he's trying to work out a complex piece of algebra, before finally putting two and two together and making five - does she mean she doesn't know about it? Meaning she's never done it before? Yes, yes, this must be what she means. "Wai', wai', hold the fuck up....you sayin' y're a virgin?" Ayyyyy is that possible? Like, she's far too hot to have avoided the dick for this long, so if his guess (read: bad misunderstanding of her words) is correct, then damn that's a waste of some good booty right there.

He wiggles his brow at mention of her mother having a taste for big, black men. "Might have'ta pay her a visit, give 'er a ride on the Vol train to heaven 'n back." He cackles, the sound just as ear-breaking as her earlier bray was, but now the noise is just utterly hilarious rather than disturbing. Those apples have made everything hilarious. There's no such thing as shame now - any sense of mortification can wait until tomorrow. Volterra is serious by nature, rarely indulging in humour or allowing his stern, stoic facade to break for even a second, but the apples have forced him into a full 180. Now he's the life and soul of the party, and he happily slurps down another apple just for the hell of it.

Her words about her father or her not-father, whatever, land on somewhat deaf ears, because it's far more vitally important that she see what's hanging out between his thighs. She's having a good old stare, and that makes the titan's pout intensify whilst simultaneous threads of warmth thrum through his loins, because it's hot as fuck to have a woman's eyes on that particular area. He shuffles his feathered forehooves out of the way to give her a better look, whilst the sardonic arch of his brow and that pout quite clearly say you like???? He can only thank the heavens that the Halloween goat-creature's curse has long since worn off, because his manhood was decidedly less impressive when it was hideously dwarfed by whatever brand of black magic the beast had used on him.

The uuugh isn't quite the reaction he'd hoped for, and his lower lip juts out like a child about to embark on a fully-fledged sulk. He huffs out a breath, and the jiggling that causes in his body sends a chain reaction right down, making everything bob around like the wrinkled trunk of an elephant drinking at the watering hole. She wobbles to her feet to empty her bladder, and Volterra rather wishes he could do the same - he needs to piss like hell, but that would involve moving and ain't nobody got time for that. He's far too comfortable sat here on his actual ass like a child at a tea party, legs akimbo and letting everything just chill out in the fresh Grove air.

She talks to him whilst she's pissing, but it doesn't bother the stallion in the slightest. It's good to see a woman attending to nature like that, they all have to do it, why hide it? So he watches, upper lip lifted to inhale the smell and detect whether there's the smallest chance she's in heat. Even in drunkenness, he is still a stallion and she is a mare and that means his natural instinct is to see if there's any chance of her being receptive to his advances. Before he can digest the host of olfactory information that her urine gives him, she speaks again, remarking on the weight that he carries around. After a quick giggle, he nods sagely. "Gets in th'way sometimes," he confides, glancing downwards with a sorrowful expression. The association he carries with smell, coupled with the erotic sensation of her staring at him, has caused nature to take its course and create a bit of wood, although his position still prevents it fully standing to attention. "Worst's when I'm runnin', and balls just slap around...aches like a bitch." #manproblems.

Seriously, where would you even put that? Volterra's expression turns sultry again, his eyes growing hooded and his sexy-as-hell pout returning with interest. "Want me t'show ya?" After all, the practical is far more fun than the theory.