makin' shit up as I go along

Artisan was lost in thought at the river's edge when suddenly a crash, some soft squeaks and grunts, and a thuddy impact heralded the coming of Satan. Oh lord, it was an infant. "Hi-" He began, but before he could utter the sound, the pup was speaking and in that quick, jumpy, horrible child way. He followed her train of thought and questioning about as well as he ever hope for, but was still staring in drunken confusion as the teeth came out.

He gave a yip and curled his body inward, spinning his head around to face the tiny bastard and tearing his tail out of the thing's mouth to hold to his chest. "Look, beer!" He deflected in a hurry, motioning toward the jar with his forepaws as if it was a holy chalice. There was - in Artisan's understanding - a lot of things to know about raising a child, but he knew none of those things. Already he was wondering whether or not he'd be able to stomach the other pirate's teasing if he abandoned the thing here and made for home. "So, uh, buddy, I'm gonna get you out of this hole, okay? But you can't be afraid of heights, because you'll be sitting on my back and I don't want any damn stains on my fur."

"Speech"