Black Sea

Three

Captain Roux sat at his desk in his quarters, fingertips rubbing at his throbbing temples as Jacques read from the list in his hand. With The Lyria set for port, Roux had requested an inventory of his ship. They'd been out to sea for little more than three weeks and were in need of restock, he knew.

However, if he couldn't find a buyer for their mermaid once they reached the dock, he wasn't sure how he was going to expense it. with lack of results on his latest two trips, he had no choice but to cut men from his ship, unable to pay and sustain them on board. The Lyria would be unmanageable if he lost any more men, and losing his ship was no more an option than that.

"Harry says we need about five pounds of new netting as well—"

"Five pounds of new netting?" Roux squawked back to the boy. "What all is wrong wit' what we have?"

"He said there was a swordfish that, er—"

"A swordfish? That's his excuse, eh?"

The cabin door opened casually as Thackery slid himself into the room, leaning against the wooden wall with ease. His clothes still damp from his experience overboard, he carried the smell of sea in with him, enveloping the room in a strong cologne of salt and sweat. "If I might cut in on behalf of our li'l landlubber here, we did in fact have some swordfish recently. 'Twas thick goin' down even wit' that rum."

Jacques shot a quick, thankful look over his shoulder to his Quartermaster before drawing his eyes back to the captain. Roux remained silent for a few breaths, his silver dressed hand falling outstretched before him. Jacques looked at it uncertainly, watching as it morphed into a fist thumping heavily on the table before him. "The list, boy! Hand her 'ere and leave us be. Keep me informed on our estimated arrival at Anson."

"Aye aye, Captain," Jacques said quickly, tripping over his own feet as he rushed to put the list down before Roux. Thackery watched with a smirk as the gangly boy straightened tall once more, maneuvering carefully but quickly around the cabin furniture to leave. Just as he reached the door beside him, Thackery stopped the boy in his tracks with a single finger.

"I'd wager we have some time yet 'til land," he said, just a hint of amusement in his tone that sent dread through Jacques. His Quartermaster's humor rarely met with his own. "Why don't ya check the head before seeing Fenix. Make sure it's a sparkle with the right kind of stuff, yeah?"

Jacques just barely stifled a groan as he nodded and ventured back out to deck.

"Why do ya always mess with the boy? He spends more time cleaning that shitter than I've eva seen 'im use it."

Thackery shrugged, pushing off the wall and making his way to the map table he spent many of storms above. His finger trailed over their latest visit site, adrenaline rushing through his veins as if the excitement of it all was happening once more. He smiled to himself, thinking of the moment he fell overboard, crashing into the waves in a sort of slow suspension before he saw her. He turned around again to face Roux, perching on the edge of the table with one booted foot angled on to the wall.

He stretched, the strain of muscles and popping of bones relaxing him further. "Don't he remind you of me, at that age?" he questioned Roux, a small but contagious smile playing on his lips. "All wirey and innocent; before ye got ya hooks in me."

"Nay," Roux disagreed with a resistant laugh. "I'll always remember ya as overtly sassy and a nuisance. Much like ya are now."

"Much like I am now," Thackery said at the same time, a knowing look on his face. "So ya tell me nearly every day."

"Aye, 'cause 'tis true," Roux agreed nonchalantly. His amusement died down as he looked his friend over, stitching his fingers together on the desk. "Ain't seen ya in a few hours. How are ya? Took a spill today."