• PM To Join • [Central Square] Moonlight On Scalvoris Town

[Kali'rial]

Kali expected backlash after her outburst, almost steeled herself for it. Instead, the Biqaj watched her with a quiet sort of respectful tide pool look, the gold in his eyes noticeable even in the moonlit night. The Sev'ryn watched as Pash shrugged, though she'd merely made some offhand comment about something he had slight interest in. Watching as he raised the coin, she caught the silvery glow across his skin with a curious frown, blushing furiously at his unbridled talk of how she would have come to being in her own mother. This was not appropriate at all, yet she let him continue as she blinked the tears from her eyes. She listened silently, following the movement of the coin with her periwinkle gaze, jaw still tightly drawn. His words made sense, all of them, yet the brunette couldn't shake off the ingrained teachings of her Elders. It wasn't that simple.

Was it?

Crossing her arms the brunette looked away again as he spoke of her loss, chewing the side of her mouth thoughtfully and the anger ebbing slowly away with his logical commentary. She rubbed her arms, as though to ward herself from the conflicting thoughts running through her head she sighed heavily, feeling a sudden unfamiliar pang of home sickness at his reminder of just how far she was from home. It wasn't Desnind she missed, but her grandfather. There wasn't a time she could remember that they'd been so far apart for so long.

It was probably why she was so addled of late, the Sev'ryn thought. Again, she felt a surge of frustration at being sent away. Poppa needed her, or at least...maybe she needed him.

The Biqaj's final remarks reminded the young huntress of why she'd been sent away, and she looked up at him with an almost hurt expression. Quite suddenly, the Sev'ryn felt awfully alone. One hand moved to touch the tree tattoo on her sternum, anger dissipating like so much chaff caught in the wind and shoulders dropping slightly in defeat. Kali held his ever changing gaze for a trill or two, before looking up at the moon above them.

"You know, in Desnind the first full moon of the season is an honoured evening. We celebrate the changing of the season and give thanks to Moseke for all that it brings. The night is also an invitation for Sev'ryn to change, they can change a look or maybe...maybe something more." Looking down again, she focused on the filigree across her thumb, unable to meet Pash's gaze yet.

"I don't understand why I'm still looking. I've been waiting for a sign, a call. I feel like there's something there, waiting for me to find it, and I'm just stuck behind a wall searching for a door that will never appear. And I'm scared Pash." The traveling huntress admitted the words with a wince of shame, feeling the vulnerability of her admission starkly when it was spoken aloud.

"Truthfully, to step out of that...binding commitment to obey without question. That is as unnatural to me as...well...as a fish out of water if you can picture it. I've lived so long like that I'm not sure how to let go. It's like too much is going on in here," She tapped her forehead for a moment.

"And it terrifies me."

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Kali,” Pash stepped back within her personal space but did not make an immediate move to touch her no matter how much he wanted to, unable to help but watch her fingers trace over the tattoo on her lovely chest, lagoon blue eyes drifting down for only a moment before he brought his attention back to her face, “There’s a lot o’ difference b’tween where you’re from an’ where I’m from, an’ so I s’pose there’s things we’re jus’ no’ gonna see th’ same way.”

He listened, always listened, quietly speaking when it was his opportunity to do so, his tone reserved and thoughtful, “But that don’ mean I don’ respect you. I don’ know your people, I don’ know your Elders—an’ you don’ know mine. But change is good. Growin’ is good. For Moseke’s sake, all green things grow an’ change; it’s part o’ life. Now—”

Instead of his sea-worn hand brushing her face, it paused to worry at the woven strap of his lute, a catch-all for his inability to stay still and for his nervousness, string-calloused pads of his fingers running over brightly colored threads just like his magical senses could touch the tangle of invisible emotions in anyone he chose,

“—it’s okay t’ be scared. I don’ see why that makes y’ a failure at anythin’. You’re far from Desnind—why d’you gotta live like this is there? Why can’t y’ take what you’ve learned an’, well, live with it? It’s gonna look different out here in th’ wilds, far from home. Maybe you’re stuck in th’old ways an’ that’s part o’ your problem. Didja ever think o’ that?”

His baritone voice was far from accusatory, nor was it meant to belittle her or her family’s decisions, but it was still a challenge. Was her education in vain? Had she let herself be trapped in the box her grandparents built for her when, in fact, like a seedling ready to be taken from the pot and put in the ground, it was time for her to grow? These things, Pash pondered, but felt the limitations of their Common language and even mores the limitations of the culture. The tall Biqaj simply couldn’t meet her where she was because it was so alien to him. The very wind in his sails was from elsewhere.

Finally, his hand left the strap to his instrument and a finger poked where he knew her heart to be, if only because he’d felt it racing against his own tanned skin,

“Then listen here instead.”

Pash paused, afraid she would object again, “Hear m’ out b’fore y’ shut me down, a’right? I’m no’ sayin’ stop thinkin’ an’ jus’ start feelin’. I’m sayin’ y’ need both, Kali. I’m sayin’ that y’ need to feel th’ situation an’ then decide whether ‘r no’ it suits y’ t’ obey in that moment. Because, sometimes, y’ gotta bend th’ rules. Sometimes, you outgrow th’ box y’ were put in, an’ that’s okay. Don’ y’ think someone back home would rather see th’ woman you’re meant to become instead o’ someone frustrated an’ lost?”

He offered a hesitant smile, hand tracing down her person without a hint of shyness or propriety from where it had hovered near her heart, wanting to hold hers again, wanting to entwine their fingers lest she get angry again, “I know I would.”

It was, unspokenly so, one of the reasons he found he couldn’t get enough of the dark-haired Sev’ryn. He wanted to see her smile, yes, and he’d enjoyed her body, it was true, but Pash also found himself very caught up in her story. So much so that he felt compelled to help tell it, not in a lead role sort of way, but, much like his job at Cally’s, in the background. He longed to see something change and know all the feelings that came with it, every intricate thread of them.

[Kali'rial]

Listening to the seafaring bard with eyes still downcast, Kali focused on her hands as he stepped closer, unsure of herself as he continued to speak. She couldn't shake the turmoil at his words, knowing fundamentally she should be obeying her Elders without question but also cracking under the logic he presented. It was like learning to walk after years of immobility. Could she really do that, just based on the concept of being 'away from home'?

The brunette bristled slightly at his comment about her being stuck in the old ways. Of course she was stuck, it was Sev'ryn law. Elder words were the gospel for the youth of her race. It was too hard to make him see, not without argument. Kali's brow furrowed, she didn't know what to say anymore. She felt like the weight of the emotions inside her was a physical entity, pressing down to crush her like a singular leaf from an autumn tree stomped underfoot. The Sev'ryn felt lost, alone.

Then he reached out to touch her chest, finger pressing gently over the spot where her heart thrummed on breaking point, and her anger dissolved. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and allowed the comfort of his touch to focus her mind as she let the breath out again. In, and out. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears with each breath.

In, and out.

Kali opened her periwinkle eyes then, gaze lifting from her hands to meet his enchanting eyes, brow furrowed slightly but listening to him. Truly listening. As Pash cast a smile at her, the huntress couldn't help but offer a small one in return. His words acted as a beacon in the confusing emotional darkness she found herself wading through, and if this was the path she needed to take, the Sev'ryn would need him to help guide her way. Allowing the Biqaj to lace his fingers with hers, the dark haired Sev'ryn let the smile grow.

"You've got a way with words Biqaj. Anyone ever tell you that?" Kali chuckled softly, blushing at the knowledge that Pash wanted more from her. From this. Nodding, she reached up to tuck away a stray tendril of dark hair.

"I can't promise what you're suggesting is easy for me, or that I can just up and live my life that way. But if you are willing to stick around for the journey, I can promise to try." Taking a deep breath, she tried on a little humour to lighten the mood.

"Anyway, I believe you offered to walk me home and it doesn't seem like we've made it quite that far. I'm sure the resident drunks have had enough of a scene for the evening." Smiling, she tilted her head to indicate they should continue on.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Aye, I’ve been told. Sometimes, I even get paid for m’ way with words,” Pash teased, grinning when Kali let him take her hand, when she entwined her fingers with his, “Though usually it’s jus’ for music instead. Prob’ly for th’ best, that.”

He chuckled warmly, implying that it was his music that tended to serve him better than his words. He’d yet to get himself in trouble with his lute, and the same could not be said about what tended to come from his lips.

“Don’ worry—I don’ got anywhere t’ go. An’ nowhere seems ’s appealin’ as right here, anyway.” The seafaring minstrel taunted, aware that he was committing to seeing something through and not in a casual, business sort of way. He was committing his time and attention to a person, to Kali’rial, in a way that was not emotionally ambiguous. He was, quite clearly, committing feelings, if not admitting to them. This was not a hand shake or coins exchanged, and while Pash wasn’t entirely sure what all he felt for the dark-haired huntress besides the attraction he’d already made obvious as well as enjoyment in her company, he was genuinely willing to invest himself in what he saw as her cause. They did not agree on everything, that much was uncomfortably true, but it was also something the tall Biqaj found acceptable, desirable, and interesting, something that only served to feed his growing feelings for the Sev’ryn, not scare them away.

He enjoyed a challenge, and he tended to fall into the ones that were over his head from the start.

“I jus’ want t’ make that journey a little easier, an’, well, a little more fun. Nothin’ good ’s easy, an’ I’m a’right with that if y’ are.” Pash squeezed her hand and smiled almost wistfully, hopeful that he wasn’t making promises he couldn’t keep. He rolled his broad shoulders in a shrug at her musing about drunks and the relative distance of their physical travels—he cared little about either, having realized that their more internal journey had covered much more ground.

Kali tilted her head in the direction she wished to go, which was confusing for the musician as he thought she’d been staying elsewhere. They were not walking at all the street that led to the Four in Hand, “Wait, where ‘re y’ stayin’, Kali? Th’ Four in Hand’s back that way.”

[Kali'rial]

Smirking at the nonchalant attitude of the seafaring musician, the huntress offered him another laugh, brushing off the last of the teary emotional distress from their confrontational conversation. He made her smile, and laugh, something the young Sev'ryn wanted to embrace.

"Thankyou." She said simply, and began to walk at a meandering pace towards the direction she'd indicated, glancing at the street that lead to The Four In Hand with a slight scrunch of her nose. Again, it sent a delightfully sweet thrill through her that he'd remembered something so trivial about her. Of course, offhand she knew that the Biqaj was living at the docks, on The Muse, with its tiny cabin and sturdy table...

Kali blushed at the memory, shaking it off to come back to the moment at hand.

"I left the Hand after Faith offered me the job bringing in game for Cally's." The brunette said with a tone that indicated it should be self explanatory, watching the ground as she led Pash towards the outskirts of the city to keep her footing in the moonlit night. It suddenly occurred to her that the Biqaj might not realise why the job changed the place where she was staying at present. He was a bard and a sailor, two things that didn't necessarily lend themselves to having knowledge on the messier intricacies of her profession. Sure, he would have cleaned a few animals or fish at least in his time, but he lived on a boat.

"An inn isn't really an appropriate place to bring home a kill for skinning and butchery. Aside from the fact that most property owners aren't a fan of blood on the bedsheets, there's not enough room to set up all the things I need." Smiling at the man walking beside her, Kali shrugged before glancing up at the familiar glow of her firelight in the near distance. Letting go of his hand, the Sev'ryn jogged a bit to make it to her camp first so she could wave her arms with a slight flourish.

"Welcome to my humble home away from home." She said with a small chuckle, turning to move a rack of drying mole rat meat away from the fire and letting Pash make his way over. The camp itself was a simple ensemble, her tent set up with bedroll inside and a banked fire off to the side. Around the small area she had plotted out a couple of twig racks with drying meat or stretching hides of the mole rats she had nabbed, and on the opposite side of the tent her chestnut mount was hitched to a stake with room to wander and water. Kali looked at the sun kissed bard with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry it's not as interesting as escorting me through the casino at the Hand. I'm planning on bringing down something bigger in the next few trials, so it made sense to just set up camp. No one seemed to mind so, here we are. Uh..can I offer you something? Tea maybe?" She rubbed her hands together with awkward nervousness.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Nah, I get that ‘bout an inn.” Pash tried to follow, letting her lead him, quickly realizing with a hint of nervousness that their direction was out of town. Had he not just said earlier that people, that women, had been attacked in Scalvoris?

Lagoon blue eyes took in Kali’rial’s camp under the moon and in the firelight. He glanced at her tent, judging its flimsiness against the sturdy walls of his ship’s cabin, concerned that it was neither dry nor safe, hardly more than sailcloth. Not that he objected to sleeping under the stars sometimes—he’d slept and not slept outdoors more than once in his lifetime. He looked over all of her various hunting accoutrements, most of which he could guess the use of but did not know a thing about the process. He let his gaze wash with a bit of nervousness at her horse, too much of a creature of the sea to feel entirely comfortable around large land animals. His mother had been a weaver, his father a shipwright, so the concept of skinning and tanning animals was a little out of his experience but not out of his understanding. It indeed looked messy and bloody, not something an innkeeper would want anywhere near their establishment, and just as a fishmonger stayed close to the sea, so the huntress desired to be near to the woods.

It made sense, aye, but he didn’t like it.

That said, he could at least stay a bit and see for himself. He hooked a thumb in the strap of his lute and came to hover closer to the fire, “Aye, tea sounds nice, out here under th’ moon. I’ll trade y’ for a song, eh?” Pash smiled at the dark-haired Sev’ryn, tired but not happy to stay and spend time with her.

The Four in Hand was an interesting place, it was true, even if the food was terrible. Kali had clearly traded one disadvantage for a few more, in Pash’s opinion. He couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face, though he didn’t frown so much as look concerned,

“Kali, d’ y’ feel safe out here? I’m sure y’ can handle yourself with your bow an’ everythin’, an’ I’ve only heard rumors o’ th’ attacks. They could jus’ be that, rumors.”

Not that he was solving where she could sleep with that comment, but at least she’d have somewhere safe and well-established to work, and maybe she could offer to teach her skills to the kinds of people that Faith was planning on helping, anyway. It seemed like it could be a fair trade, and the thought of Kali’rial not being out of town far from the city guards and anyone’s careful watch made Pash feel strangely more comfortable. While there were plenty of rumors the seafaring musician heard as a bard around town, in the Square, and in Cally’s from staff and patrons alike, he felt there was some truth to the attacks and cared very much for the lithe huntress’ safety, especially now he’d hope to convince her to stop avoiding him. He had missed her smile, among other things.

Pash sat, setting his lute in his lap and waiting for Kali to sit with him,

“M’haps y’ could ask ‘f Faith has somewhere y’ could process the fruits o’ your hunts—she owns a farm outside o’ town, too. Did she tell y’ that? Then, maybe y’ could have some workspace, since you’re sharin’ your kills for her coin.”

[Kali'rial]

Smiling with relief at his acceptance of hospitality, the Sev'ryn moved to set up her tea making kit over the fire, throwing water and dark leaves in the pot before shifting it over the heat to start boiling. As the seafaring Biqaj made himself comfortable it was clear that he had something on his mind, his face pulled into something not familiar to her since meeting him. Not amusement or casual cheek, but concern. The reason was brought forth finally with words that caused the brunette to pause as she moved to sit beside him.

"Attacks? I have heard some murmurs, but they seem to have little merit. Most of what I've heard sounds like panicked suggestions by scared people over some possibly unrelated circumstances." Settling close to the bard, she smiled at him, crossing her arms over her bent knees and resting her chin on them as she listened to him speak. Kali wrinkled her nose at the suggestion of using on Faith's farm. She barely knew her employer, and to the young huntress the concern wasn't warranted. The idea of asking Faith for a place to set up felt childish to the Sev'ryn, almost as though she was a frightened babe asking for her favourite doll.

"I appreciate what you've said Pash, and to be honest the idea hadn't occurred to me, but I've lived and worked out of my rucksack for as long as I can remember. I travelled from Desnind to Scalvoris alone with just my tent for shelter, and I managed to get here safe and sound." Raising an eyebrow, the brunette lifted her head for a moment.

"My head tells me that camping here is logical for what I require, and my heart says....well it says you don't have to worry about me." She said with a chuckle, amused by her play on their previous conversation about thinking with her head and her heart. It wasn't that she was brushing the bards worries off, but she couldn't see the problem the way he did. Shifting, she moved to pull the boiling pot away from the fire and poured a cup for herself and Pash, sitting the hot beverages by their feet to cool. Taking the time to think, her smile faded into a no-nonsense frown as she pursued her lips and gave him a serious look.

"If these rumours come to more than just fantastical commentary by those under the influence of drink or fear, then I'll talk to Faith about a place to clean and work game so I don't have to stay with it all during the process. For tonight though at least, given the break of night and the fact I already have hides and meat drying, this is where I'll stay." Returning her arms to her knees Kali turned her head to rest her cheek on her arms, periwinkle eyes blinking a little tiredly as she looked at the tanned and tattooed man who all but glowing softly in the night - presumably from the firelight. He did clean up nicely, all done up in his crisp shirt and sunkissed hair brushing his shoulders. The huntress smiled again.

A thought struck her then, out of the blue.

"Do you sing in Rakahi often? I mean, when you play for the patrons?" She asked suddenly, remembering the first time she'd met the Biqaj lute for coin in the central square. He'd sung a song there, in his native tongue, something that Kali enjoyed. It was exotic, and uniquely his.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“I don’ think they’re jus’ rumors, but I’m no’ gonna argue. I play music ’n taverns an’ a restaurant where people pay good coin, so I tend t’ listen when they talk. An’ while I’m sure y’ can handle yourself in th’ woods an’ such, this sounds different. I’m jus’ lookin’ out for you ’s all.” Kali sat next to him but still made a face of discomfort, not believing his warnings and dismissing his caution. It was fine. She could make her own choices. He hadn’t suggested to her somewhere else to stay, after all, only that perhaps she could have a better set up for processing her hunting spoils somewhere established like Faith’s farm instead of at a temporary camp site. If she didn’t want to stay at the Four in Hand, he understood. Maybe he should have suggested she stay with him again, but he figured that would spoil the conversation, afraid to offer more of himself just yet given how she'd spent so much of Ashan hiding from him after just one enjoyable night together.

“I’ll worry ‘bout who I chose, thank y’ much, yourself included.” Pash grinned at her, not at all missing her attempt at foiling him with his own words. He watched her prepare their tea, reluctantly looking away from the dark-haired Sev’ryn in the firelight to watch the steam dance from his cup. Her response was firm, and they’d agreed to disagree once already. He let her win with unspoken regret, and looked back at Kali as she curled her arms around her knees.

He watched her watching him, her blue eyes following the lines of his fancy shirt, though his sleeves were rolled up and indeed the silver of his blood seemed to attempt to escape his tattooed skin in a very faint glow, as if tugged outward by the full moon above. It was somewhat easy to dismiss as a trick of firelight, especially this close to the fire. The same light danced off her tan skin without the same glow, but she wasn’t looking at herself like he was. The warm glow caught the darkness of her hair and the curve of her lips and Pash did not find this at all displeasing. He blinked and looked away to his lute at her question, feeling caught in the act of staring at her but not so shy about it,

“I don’ sing at Cally’s. I jus’ play th’ lute. I’m no’ there t’ be noticed. But, when I’m elsewhere, say in a tavern ‘r out on th’ street? Aye, I sing more ’n m’ native tongue than common. It’s easier for me an’ I suppose I find it suits m’ voice. M’ grandfather made sure t’ teach me all th’ good ol’ songs so I could please th’ party crowds when we had our celebrations. I can translate a little on th’ fly, but it’s no’ as smooth a sound.” The seafaring minstrel’s smile softened, somewhat insatiably curious to please the lithe huntress, as if a song or two would assuage the differences between them. He reached for his tea, which was still quite hot, and held it in his hands to blow on the surface, speaking through the steam, “Did you want t’ hear more in Rakahi?”

[Kali'rial]

Listening to the now firelit man discuss the topic of her staying where she was, Kali moved to pick up her cup, gingerly sipping the steaming liquid with a smile. It was kind of him to worry, or at least care. It made her feel a little less alone in the world without her Poppa by her side. Placing it down again, she tucked her hair behind her ear before settling with her arms around her knees again as he seemed to ponder the question about his singing.

The brunette raised an eyebrow slightly in an unspoken acknowledgement of his comment about not singing at Cally's and not there to be noticed. It was such a curious profession, this musician business. In one scenario, he appeared to call all and sundry to hear his songs. In another, his intent was to fade into the background. The huntress could see merit in both situations, even if she didn't truly understand it. She smiled, nodding with clear agreement about speaking his native tongue.

"Oh, I hear you there. Common was a necessity for me to learn on the trade routes, so it comes fairly easily for me, but there are plenty of things that I just can't find the words for without switching to Xanthean." In true sense of those who don't stay in one place for too long, Kali indeed had a decent grasp on common, her Desnind accent almost utterly undetectable when she spoke. Occasionally it might slide on the vowels of some words, but not enough to take notice of. Her smile turned warmer as Pash mentioned his grandfather, feeling a connection with him at the comment.

"If you translate them, then they're not his good old songs anymore. They're just cheap reproductions of a beautiful original." The Sev'ryn said it softly, no offence intended and with genuine warmth. There were somethings that were special, even to her still learning heart. Songs from home, handed down by family were one of those special things, and special things shouldn't be messed with. The thought made her reach for her necklace with brushing fingertips, just a momentary movement to remind herself it was there. Lifting her drink again to cradle it in both hands, Kali sipped again before nodding with a shy smile.

"Do you mind? I know you just came from Cally's but...well...you did say you'd trade me tea for a song." She laughed then, a small blush on her cheeks.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“There’s some words that jus’ don’ translate.” Pash chuckled, agreeing. Like all twelve Rakahi words for water, specifically the ocean. Or the Rakahi words for how Biqaj eyes changed color. Or simple idioms about life on a ship that made sense until one tried to use Common words instead. It was true. Language was a strange barrier sometimes, and while he’d grown up in and among his people, he’d had to pick up Common to get by, especially as a seafaring musician. He had no interest in ever losing his accent, however, for it was either an attractive boon to some or an excuse to be underestimated to others. Either way, he liked the advantages and had no interest in changing too much to suit others when his choices thus far still suited himself just fine.

His eyes warmed emerald and verdant at her comment about music and old songs, again, agreeing in a way. He didn’t mind the translations so much, however, but he just never felt that he, himself, was capable of doing them any justice when he attempted to bring Rakahi lyrics into Common. The songs of his people were just better in his language, plain and simple. He was better at writing music than he was penning words, more because his handwriting was abysmal. Pash felt confident in his way with words and could even be poetic when necessary, but he mostly came up with songs on the fly or committed them to memory instead of kept a collection on parchment. His warm gaze strayed from her face to her hand as it moved, though it was not her necklace that distracted him so much as all he already knew to be beneath the hide of her dress.

The tall Biqaj shifted, reluctantly looking away from her firelit skin and her shy smile and her tempting blush to set his tea down after a sip, calloused fingers returning to the frets of his lute, “I don’ mind since you’re th’ one askin’. ” He answered, openly flirtatious in tone. Music was part of who he was, not simply what he did for a living, but it was often the audience that made all the difference, “Though I can sing ‘bout anythin’ I want an’ y’ won’t know ‘t.”

Pash winked as he taunted her with his possible lyric choices, clearing his throat and looking down to his instrument, thinking. There were a few bawdier sailing songs he knew in Rakahi, often popular once the breaks faded into that grey time between too late and too early in a tavern. And while there were several very traditional songs he could have selected from his repertoire, he considered something a little more abstract. The melody could definitely be described as romantic but not overly so: slower, warmer, softer notes plucked carefully on his lute. Whether it was intentional or not because of his attractive company was, of course, not something the seafaring minstrel was going to necessarily volunteer directly, his smile evident as he sang familiar words in a tongue foreign to Kali’rial:

“With ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,
Like Xuir’s own stars, and joyously it showed;
Some lying fast at anchor near the shore,
Some veering up and down, one knew not why.
A lovely vessel did I then spy,
Come like the suns from horizon calm;
And lustily along the bay she strode,
Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.
The ship was nought to me, nor I to her,
Yet I pursued her with a lover's look;
This ship to all the rest did I prefer:
When will she turn, and where to? She will brook
No tarrying; where she comes the winds must stir:
On went she not, though far indeed did her journey took.”

Pash didn’t sing loud, given they were outside of town in the dark and not on some tavern’s makeshift stage, but his voice was clear and when he put effort into it, his range was flexible enough. Granted, Kali was left to decide what any of his Rakahi words even meant, but once his song had faded and the last few notes quieted, he smiled warmly at the dark-haired huntress and reached for his tea,

“So, I totally sang ‘bout borin’ fish an’ stuff, bilge water an’ ropes … lots an’ lots o’ ropes—” He was clearly teasing, and if his face didn’t give it away with a hint of rosy color, the mischief in his eyes always did, smile creasing into a grin from over the rim of his cup of tea before he drank some, “—But it’s a fair ‘nough trade, I hope.”