Idly fingering the red handkerchief, the Droplet Lia had been sure to wad it up into a ball and negligently toss it over a shoulder at her, Sable returned Alexis’ grin. Her smile held nothing back, just a pure indication of that she understood the younger woman perfectly and was happy to have her aboard. Oh, and maybe there was the hint that Sable had indeed picked up on her sincerity regarding the joke…and maybe also the feeling that the Baggywrinkle filed that little tidbit away for later use. They were both young in themselves, but didn’t seem to be anything she couldn’t handle. Clapping Alexis on the shoulder, those sparkling baby blues turned to Aluria just in time to catch that eye roll. Eyebrows shooting up, the Lia regarded the girl inquisitively.
“What do you mean? Getting verbally abused and ridiculed for being a lousy seamstress?” Though her tone had dried out in the end, smile turning mildly sardonic, the warmth never left her eyes. She was sarcastic, she teased, and she was probably going to pull pranks on them, but there wasn’t a single hint of malevolence involved. Maybe a healthy dose of insincerity, but maybe not.
She snapped the little red cloth out, regarding it like a traitorous friend. “Clearly, we can’t barter any of my sewing talents or creations for rum. What skills do you guys have to offer? I think we should take enough rum for each of us to leave an offering.” Getting ready to settle on a plan of acquisition, Sable gathered up her little flock and herded them toward the gangway—this time successfully. Damn presumptuous Lia, sneaking aboard her vessel like that. Though she hadn't given the younger girl any indication that her position on the trip was secure, deliberately so, at least she hadn't denied her either. No matter how pleading those eyes were. She was willing to give her a chance, at least, but if she didn't perform acceptably then when the two older girls set out she could be left behind.
As they crossed a myriad of decks, heading deeper and deeper into the Flotilla, and consequently back in time it seemed like, Sable continued on their conversation only intermittently. The vivacious woman spent more time bantering with any and all crewmen she came across, but carefully extracted herself and companions from conversation before getting bogged down. They were on a mission! But she never could saunter on to someone’s vessel without addressing them, it was just rude. When they made it to a certain large barge that looked like it hadn’t disengaged from the Flotilla in fifty years, Sable charmingly introduced her companions to an elderly gent with milky blue eyes.
His voice rumbled like thunder, but was only about as loud as an oyster.
“Found yerself a crew after all, eh, Bag’o’winkle? Cute little things,” he leered, revealing a beautiful array of empty teeth sockets. She hadn’t spoken to him about her trip, but word traveled fast around here. As he made it quite clear that he was a dirty old man, a young whelp brought out three bottles of rum and two two-gallon wooden rum kegs. At the sight of the little baby kegs, Sable’s eyes expanded beyond normal parameters and complete adoration painted on her face. Hands digging into her companion’s arms, she turned an almost pleading expression on them and looked about ready to gush, but the horny old man was watching this with great interested.
Frowning briefly, she realized that he now thought she’d be willing to pay anything for them. He was right, but still, her arms shot out, encompassed her companions shoulders like barrel bands, squishing them to her, and she whirled them around to have a private conference.
“What do you guys think? I want the kegs, but the only service I can offer would be a cruise around on my ship…” Exaggerated disgust distorted her features, it was quite clear that the old man would take that offer to be of a ‘pleasure cruise’ variety.
A prepubescent squeak, which was probably supposed to be the whelp’s equivalent to clearing his throat, interrupted their scheming. The boy, with his hair in baby dreds and an expression too angelic to be sincere, waited for acknowledgement before entering their proximity. “You’re supposed to hear the prices, the first terms, before making an offer.” Even though he didn’t seem terribly trustworthy, it appeared as though that little bit of advice was genuine. “We need pure water“—the girls would feel Sable’s spine stiffen, the boy’s eyes staring intently at the Lia—“and that’s all.” He disappeared again, but not before whispering, with a neophyte’s grasp on subtlety, “now you make your counter offer, whether or not water is on it.”
Sable eyed her companions inquisitively.
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