Well, butter my buns and call me a biscuit...

Shilah pulled out a stick of pine pitch. Taking it in his jaws he leaned over toward the fire to warm it to the point that it was sticky and oozing enough to fill the notch. He took the pine pitch back over to the end of the spear and lightly pressed the pine pitch into the notch. He then set the pine pitch down and picked up the spearhead. He carefully pressed the back end of the spearhead into the notch, using one of his paws to hold the spear steady. He held the spearhead into the spear until the pine pitch dried enough so that the spearhead wouldn't move out of place.

He chuckled at the other man's words. "Perish the thought! I'd hope my wit and charm could still get me favorable attention without resorting to such low tactics." He returned the wink then noticed the man's bowl was almost half empty. "Need your drink topped off? Also feel free to grab whatever you like out of my travois if you'd like to do some inebriated crafting of your own before the lights gone. I don't mind the least." In truth just relaxing back and watching the going on's while he enjoyed his higher 'spirits' was doing wonders for his stress.