Pyyran, looking up from his ale, grins over to Pig. "Come, now, Pig, you know I can get you all the fish you want! I'm heading to Lake Rillon after I'm done with these scrolls, after all, so it'll be no trouble to catch you a catfish or three." He hefts a slightly bulging scrip of blank hickory scolls, glancing out a window to make sure the sun hadn't passed a branch he had marked for when the other scrolls he had in the oven would be done.