Live to Venture (#0)

03 | The Awakening of Adventure

Despite being irritatingly familiar with the awkward morning dance, Vallin had never quite figured out how to handle it best. He was an early riser, waking the moment the sun peaked out from the horizon, but for some reason, his company never seemed to be. They also had the vicious habit of curling and twisting themselves so tightly into him that he'd have to perform acrobatics to free himself. He stopped trying to be a host a long time ago. These days, he simply goes on with his routine and slams the door behind him to send the message.

Unlike everyone else, he didn't vow to himself not to do this kind of thing anymore, nor did he find his reputation anything but useful. He could get a deal out of any woman, threaten any man who already had a woman, and yet he maintained no weakness for others to exploit. Ballsy, confident and resourceful—a good look.

Vallin shielded the abrupt sun with his hand, squinting in the sunlight. He closed the door to his captain's quarters and took the balcony steps two at a time. He reached the deck and glanced out at the rail.

It was typical of him to spend the night on the ship when the rest of the crew was passed out in port somewhere. He usually took someone with him, but he preferred to be here when the sun rose. It was comforting to him, waking up to that empty ship full of possibility.

This morning, though, there was a heavy feel to the air, as if a storm had recently passed. He hadn't known one was coming, but the deck of the Avourienne was soaked and the sides of the hull had seaweed stuck to it from where the waves had splashed nearly to the rail. It had been a raging storm by the looks of things, but it was passed now. He squinted into the ocean to the east, where they were to continue their path today. The clouds were gathered and gray—the same storm that had rocked his ship. The Avourienne could handle a storm, but it would be much faster to simply go back the way they came. Practical was practical, logic was logic.

"You're much better company at night."

Vallin glanced over at Rhea briefly, then turned back around to pick a long strand of seaweed off the rail.

"You might as well toss me overboard," she said, letting out a loud laugh as she joined him. "You must have a girl already. In port somewhere?"

Vallin frowned. The clouds were heavy out there; he and Rusher should've seen this storm coming. Perhaps it had come from the south? Storms rarely came from the south.

"I don't," he said, turning to face her. Had her teeth always been that crooked?

She snorted and stretched out her arms. "That's insane. You should have four." She stretched out her shoulders.

Vallin said nothing, but he did watch her move. The grace of a typical woman, just not quite a confident one.

"I've gotta ask," she said as she continued to stretch.

"Please don't."

She laughed. "Oh, they always ask you, don't they?"

Sometimes, if they were sailors.

"What if I don't go back to the Starling?" she asked. "What if I stay here on this ship?"

Vallin sighed. She failed to see how utterly normal she was—and the Avourienne wasn't for those kinds of people, especially women. If they had some sort of special skill, perhaps he'd consider it, like Miller for medicine and Tailsley for a man who couldn't be convinced with charisma. Rhea, though, didn't have any unique talent. He could tell because he'd been in this business for a decade, and he knew what made a sailor and what brought them down. Rhea was not beneficial to him for anything other than one thing, and she wasn't incredible at that, either.