The Royal Amphion does not often take passengers without the direct consent of the Regent or his council directly, but it isn't unusual to be approached. Quentin watched from th other side of the deck when the woman came and went not once, but twice, with big eyes and offering hands. The men on the deck paid no mind - a maid on a ship like theirs would be no real trouble, no real interest, but something about her kept Quentin from looking away for too long.
We're taking her on, boys - ship off in the morning, his father wailed across the decks long after the young woman had left. And with the huff of the older man, they shuffle off for a night of warmth and ale.
Usually, he's one to make the place lively, tell stories and jokes, coax a barmaid into a dance and rally the tavern musicians to improvise something new and exciting. His shipmates are already doing that of their own accord, deep in their drink. He feels the eyes on him long before he looks up, catching her gaze at the last moment, his mouth pulling into the sly curve of the mischievous.
A brief glance to the first mate and the man flutters off to the bar and the seat beside him opens up. The fire near him warms the air and he sits a little slouched in his seat - easy and comfortable anywhere he goes.
"Of course, it's not mine to claim. If it is empty, my good lady, then sit and enjoy the fire."
His eyes almost sparkle in the firelight, but there's a bite of magic on the air, even if he's unaware of it. Seeking out a drink for her, where the most efficient barmaid is and - ah. "Can we get a warm ale for the lady? My coin, of course."
And the woman offers a warm, large mug to Pearl and turns to leave. "You're the one who bought passage on our ship, aren't you?" All that to say - she looks a little lost among the waves of people.
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We're taking her on, boys - ship off in the morning, his father wailed across the decks long after the young woman had left. And with the huff of the older man, they shuffle off for a night of warmth and ale.
Usually, he's one to make the place lively, tell stories and jokes, coax a barmaid into a dance and rally the tavern musicians to improvise something new and exciting. His shipmates are already doing that of their own accord, deep in their drink. He feels the eyes on him long before he looks up, catching her gaze at the last moment, his mouth pulling into the sly curve of the mischievous.
A brief glance to the first mate and the man flutters off to the bar and the seat beside him opens up. The fire near him warms the air and he sits a little slouched in his seat - easy and comfortable anywhere he goes.
"Of course, it's not mine to claim. If it is empty, my good lady, then sit and enjoy the fire."
His eyes almost sparkle in the firelight, but there's a bite of magic on the air, even if he's unaware of it. Seeking out a drink for her, where the most efficient barmaid is and - ah. "Can we get a warm ale for the lady? My coin, of course."
And the woman offers a warm, large mug to Pearl and turns to leave. "You're the one who bought passage on our ship, aren't you?" All that to say - she looks a little lost among the waves of people.