Henri smirks as the muscle-bound hoodlum grumbles away, his robbery having failed. Ah, it's good to be back in the Wharf... With his makeshift gunstrap out of service, the Imardanian sighs and makes his way once more to the forge, gun-husk in hand. Though this time, he keeps an especially tight grip on it.
Some of the other people you pass by eye the gun in your hands, though none of the others make any attempts to lift it from you. In fact, it is a mostly uneventful walk the rest of the way to the Blondel Forge. More harlots and more pirate crews, and one instance of a Talgutan gang beating a man in the streets. When you arrive at the forge it is empty, except for the smith hard at work on a piece. His hammering leaves him unaware of your presence until spoken to.
As Henri finally reaches the forge, he lets out a sigh of relief, having arrived without any other altercations. Stepping inside, he smirks as he sees the smith hammering away. Guess Emeric's got himself some business. Hope he's not too busy to help out a friend.
"Hey, Emeric! You busy?" he says above the hammer's ping, hoping he gets the smith's attention.
Darcell decides to try his luck on the wharf first, before taking a greater risk with the Backwater Company. As he makes his way along the wharf, he pays close attention to the docked ships, looking for one he recognises, and one who's crew he isn't on the bad side of.
"An ale for me an' an ale for him," Grommak replies to the woman, pointing a thumb towards the Ice Man. He slides a chair out and sits down at a table a bit away from the raucous sailors, with his back toward a wall. Facing his companion, the orc occasionally glances past him to watch the men. Shouldn't be a problem, but if there is...
He turns back. "I think you'll come to like it aboard the Saint. Takes a bit of getting used to with the seniority, but if you're strong and smart you can push your way to where you want," Grommak starts in. "Except if you wanna be cap'n, of course. Heh."
The hammering stops after Henri shouts over the noise. The man sets his hammer down and turns, a smirk creeping across his face when he sees his customer. "Not too busy for you, my friend," he responds, glancing to the item in Henri's hands. "My my, what have you brought me to play with?"
As you walk you spot many crews, some known to you and some newcomers. Some of the newcomers may be easy to barter with, if they're eager to make a name for themselves. It is a gamble, though, as they may also think hustling one of Blackwood's Dogs is more beneficial to their reputation than obtaining one of Imardin's rare muskets.
Apart from the newcomers, you recognize the crew of the Seahorse. Led by Captain Jane 'the Jaguar', a well-traveled Gleiosian woman, the Seahorse is one of the main threats to the trade routes connecting western Gleios, Akiro, and mainland Ya-Jarang. You've made passes at her in the past, but you doubt that has soured Jane's opinion of you.
Another crew you spot is that of the Silver Sabre, captained by the notorious 'Cutthroat' Kishar. They mostly plague the seas and islands between Amkhara and Visha, though they occasionally venture further north to Dakara, and even Nelghet on occasion. Kishar is known to be an aggressive and unpredictable man, though you've no particular reason to be on his bad side.
"Oh?" the man asks, leaning back in his seat and propping a foot up on the table. "You cut that out, now," chimes the elf woman, who approaches with their drinks. The Ice Man grumbles a bit and sets his foot back down, taking a swig of the ale.
"I thought pirate crews were all about voting on things. Freedom and the like. You don't choose your own captain?" he asks, intrigued. He sets his ale on the table with a thud, the wooden mug nearly as sturdy as the wood of the table. He turns to watch for the elf woman to leave, before propping his foot up once more.
Darcell stops his walk along the wharf and makes his way over to the crew of the Seahorse, choosing to go with someone he at least has an existing reputation with.
"Hey lads, your captain about?" he asks the closest few men.
Henri grins as his friend greets him and takes notice in his weapon. "You've heard of Jean-Claude Olivier, yes? The Navy's famed marksman? This was his rifle, or what's left of it at least," he says, examining the burnt firearm with a wan smile. Returning his gaze to Emeric, he adds, "I know guns aren't you specialty, but I figured you could at least take a look at it."
The closest men are lugging a crate from the ship to shore. At your question one of them motions with his head towards a group of other crew members further down the dock, talking near their ship. Most are men, of varying sizes, but one is a woman who, from behind, matches your memory of Jane.
"'Course I've heard of him, who hasn't?" the smith responds, listening on as Henri continues his description. "Damn, I can only imagine how you got your hands on this thing," he says, eyebrows raised and eyes widened a bit as he looks at the damaged gun. "I can definitely take a look at it for you, but no promises. Leave it with me and I'll see what I can do. We can discuss payment if I actually get anything done, how does that sound?"
"Let's just say the high seas are fraught with danger," Henri says with smug grin and a glimmer in his eye. With the man offering to take a look at the rifle, Henri responds, "That sounds like a plan to me. Remind me to buy you an ale sometime, as a way of saying thanks."
"You don't pick your cap'n," Grommak explains. "But your cap'n picks you, y'see." He smirks at the man's insolence of putting his feet up despite warning. "Woman looks like she's seen it all. I wouldn't tempt her," he chuckles.
"Anyways, all that voting is a bunch of horseshit anyway. Who cares if you don't get to pick which boat you ambush? As long as there is coin in it for me, leaving it up to the guy with a better head for that makes more sense," the orc explains. "Why? That why you ended up here? Search for freedom?"
Darcell gives a quick nod in thanks, before walking over to the other group of the crew.
"How is my favourite feline?" He asks with a smirk as he approaches. "And, getting straight to the point, does she have any need of any muskets, courtesy of the Imardanian Navy?"
"Or you could share some of that wine too, you know," the man says with a grin, as he takes the gun and begins looking it over more closely. "You in port long? If not, just check back in next time you are, hopefully I'll have some good news for you."
"I don't have to look, friend. I've already got it," the man responds leaning back a bit to stretch. "I've been wandering and selling my talents to the highest bidder for years, and I'm normally good at picking reliable clients. Your crew's the first I've encountered that stood a chance, so makes sense to join rather than die."
The door opens in the distance and the Ice Man puts his feet back down, smiling to the woman as she emerges with more drinks for the other table. They've only grown louder since you've arrived, more tales being told and merriment being had. One of the men falls from his seat, too drunk to stay upright on his own, and the others all burst into laughter.
"Who is- oh," is Jane's response, as she turns to find the source of the voice. "You're that guy. The one who flirts, right? What did you want? I'm a bit busy for flirting at the moment..." She trails off as she processes the proposition Darcell's made, looking towards the gun he's brought with him.
"Wow. Now that is a fine gun. Where in the hell did you come across that?" she asks, eyes widened a bit as she admires the craftsmanship of the weapon. The men she'd been talking too look on as well, all impressed with what Darcell has got to sell.
"Just curious," Grommak responds to the sorcerer, his attention reclaimed by the rowdy men across the tavern from him. The orc waves the barwoman over, having finished his ale. "Another of the same," he asks. "Decent brewing. And hey, who're the fellows having their share of fun over there? They fresh off a privateer or some'n?"
Darcell ignores Jane's initial rebuffing and continues with his sales pitch as she expresses interest.
"Let's just say the Imardanian Navy is going to need a new ship," he replies. "I've got three more if you're interested... And you've got the coin," he adds.
"Going for the good stuff, are ya? You're a true Imardanian, alright," Henri says with a light chuckle. "But if you manage to do a good job, then a bottle of Cabernet has your name on it."
At Emeric's question, he responds, "I'm not sure, but it's never for long. The seas are just begging to be plundered, so I doubt many would opt to stay awhile."
The woman glances up at the men, narrows her eyes for a moment, then turns back to Grommak. "They look Okani, so probably part of the Maluhi. Smugglers, maybe? I've not seen them before," she says, before leaving to fetch the man's drink.
"Maluhi, or perhaps a pirate crew with a large Okani membership. All sorts pass through here, usually when they're lost or the other taverns are too crowded. Not sure what brought them here at this time of day," says the Ice Man, propping his feet back on the table when the woman's back is turned again.
Jane raises an eyebrow at Darcell's words, but returns her gaze to the finely crafted firearm. "I'd need my quartermaster to look them over, but if they're as fine as they seem I may just be your gal. What kind of coin are you looking to get out of these?" she asks, looking towards the man with folded arms. Her man behind her look on too, some clearly eager to get their hands on the promised guns.
"You know it, friend," the man responds, in regards to the wine. "Just come by and see me when you're back in port, then," he continues. "I'll be waiting on that Cabernet. I can taste it already," he says with another grin. He moves back towards his work station and seats himself back at his stool, beginning to look over the gun.
"Let's say one thousand two hundred gold a piece. Although if you buy all four you can have them for four thousand. How does that sound?" Darcell asks.
"The chance to get your hands on one of these won't come along often, let a lone four. Think of what you could do if you equipped your best men with them. The Seahorse and the Jaguar would be even more feared than you are already. I'm sure they'll more than pay for themselves in plunder," he adds. Trying to make the sale he infuses his words with some of his magic.
With a grin and a wave, Henri says, "So long, then, my friend. I look forward to seeing what you've done with the gun." With this, he departs the smithy and takes a deep breath of the putrid air before deciding his next move.
Pulling out his mirror to briefly admire himself, he scoffs, thinking, Ugh, I need a bath.
Streetwise to find some place that has baths to get this hygiene-obsessed prettyboy clean: 3(1d20) +12 = 15
Perception to help find said place and watch out for trouble: 9(1d20) +10 = 19
You remember the name referring to the Talgutan gang made up of primarily Okani natives. They are one of the smaller (and less organized) of the major Talgutan gangs, only controlling 3 districts in the southeast of the city. They operate in much the same way as an Okani tribe, adapted to the city life but with many of the same customs and traditions. Many members only speak Okani, and there is an overall strong focus on the members' heritage.
Their leader, like most members, is a large, muscular man named Kaleo Amalu. He, again like many of the Maluhi, is adorned in the traditional Okani tattoos, which serve to memorialize family members, pay tribute to the gods, and invoke fear in their opponents all in one. His men are fiercely loyal, and any who turn their back on him and the gang are hunted down and beaten mercilessly with wooden clubs.
The gang has a strong rivalry with the Backwater Company's orcs. The two gangs share many similarities; both are made up of members with strong ties to their local traditions, both are more aggressive than diplomatic, and both feature primarily large, burly members. The Backwater's recent arrival robbed the Maluhi of much territory, and due to their similarities they've had a hard time of gaining it back. Now the two vie for control of Southeast Talguta, and the borders of their territories see a lot of bloodshed as a result.
Jane keeps her arms folded, furrowing her brow as the man speaks. "I can't do 4000 for these. They are nice, sure, but not that nice. I'll give you 3000 for the lot, and only if my quartermaster gives the go-ahead," she retorts, awaiting his reply.
You remember that there is an Ágrypno-owned bath house on this side of town, further inland. It is mostly frequented by gang members, though it's open to any with the coin and the good sense not to stir up any trouble. Jarangi have the toughest time getting in due to the animosity between them and the Gleiosians.
After wracking his brain for a moment, Henri remembers a bathhouse run by the Ágrypno and sets off on his way toward it. It's a good thing the Gleiosians are almost as civilized as we Imardanians.
Jane takes his hand, shaking it with a satisfied grin on her face. "So it is. You go fetch the rest of your guns, I will find my quartermaster and have him prepare a bill of sale. We can meet back here or somewhere else, your call," she says, retracting her hand and placing it on her hip.
You make your way to the bath house with few issues, only a couple wrong turns that are easily corrected. It is situated in a secluded courtyard off one of the more major roads, with buildings on all sides apart from the alleyway leading to it. It has an unassuming facade, though a pleasing scent wafts through the curtained doorway.
As you step inside you are greeted with a smile by a lovely Gleiosian woman in traditional Gleiosian robes. She steps towards you from further in the small entryway, having been conversing with a few men in the corner in their native tongue. Two of the men wear only bath towels and sandals, though the other is garbed in similar robes to the woman.
"Greetings, filos," the woman says as she approaches. "You come to relax in a bath?" she continues, in her thick Gleiosian accent.
Henri grins as the beautiful woman greets him, his spirit lifted by the pleasant scents of the bathhouse. "Absolutely, if I may," he responds to the Gleiosian woman. "Nothing beats a bath after being out at sea."
"Oh, I know those guys," Grommak replies, the name of their organization having clicked in his head. "Just keep your head down, mate. Don't want them thinking I'm part of Backwater, bein' an orc and all. They're probably too drunk to even notice me anyhow."
He turns away from the drunk Maluhi, having vetted their presence. "So, what kind of trouble you lookin' to find while we're docked? I had in mind to find some sort of artisan blacksmith. All this coin and there's got to be something they can make me to help with getting shot at. That last raid gave me more scars than I'd like. Though I'm always in the mood for a side job, if the pay is good."
The woman smiles and steps a bit closer once Henri responds. "You have coin, yes? We charge 200gp to use our fine bath, it is very nice." She leans in close, before continuing to speak, this time in a whisper. "500 if you'd like some company," she adds with a wink, before resuming her initial position.
"It's fine. Like I said before, as long as I'm around you should be good." The elven woman begins to turn and once more the Ice Man removes his feet from the table. She catches the tail end of this movement and shakes her head at him, but continues on with her business.
"New armor sounds like a nice purchase, yeah. Me, I just plan to stay here for a bit. I've got some friends who come here every so often, if they stop by I'll catch up with them. If not, I'll just fill my belly with mead until I have to return to the ship. Either way, I'll be a happy man," he says with a smile, before downing another large gulp of his drink.
"Come find me on the Saint when your Quartermaster is ready. She's docked further down the wharf," Darcell says, with a nod, turning to head back to the ship. A deal is a deal, but you can't trust anyone in this place. I'd rather not let her use her crew to outnumber me and just take the guns.
"Of course I've got coin," the Imardanian responds, patting his coinpurse with a grin. At the woman's proposition, Henri thinks, Hmm... These Gleiosians are definitely better than the typical harlots defiling this city. Nothing wrong with some good, clean fun, I suppose.
With a delighted smirk, he takes out 500gp and hands them to the woman.
"Whatever, fine," Jane huffs, turning towards her ship and climbing aboard, likely to find the aforementioned quartermaster. Some of her men follow, while the rest go back to doing whatever it is they had been doing before they stopped to watch the transaction taking place.
Walking back down the docks towards the Saint, Darcell crosses paths with two of his fellow Dogs - Eva, walking with Wendy close behind. The former narrows her eyes at the man as they approach, not saying anything. Wendy waves as they draw ever nearer.
The woman steps very close to the young man and takes the coin from his hand, while positioning her head directly near one of his ears. "What are your preferences? I can send someone to your liking." She backs up slightly once the coin is in her hand, though remains close enough that they can speak relatively privately. The men in the corner pay little mind to the conversation, having continued their own in the woman's absence.
Darcell Subtlely manoeuvres himself to pass the two women on the side of Wendy, putting a bit of space between himself and Eva's poisons. "Ladies," he says with a wink, as a greeting, as they draw near.
Grommak finishes his ale, downs another flagon in comfortable silence with the sorcerer, and says his goodbyes. "I'll see you either back here or aboard the Saint. Stay out of trouble. Or find some," the orc says with a chuckle before turning to head out of the tavern. Once outside, he squints his eyes, trying to recall any blacksmiths in the area that might be able to create high-quality and possibly arcane-imbued equipment.
"Hello Darcell," Wendy responds, friendly enough with the man, having had no real issues with him in the past. "We're busy," Eva adds, grabbing Wendy by the hand and dragging her further down the road past the bard. Wendy looks back for a second, confused, but waves again and continues past with the slightly older woman.
You are only able to recall a few blacksmiths, none of whom are notably skilled to your memory. However, you do remember that some of the Talgutan gangs with a presence in the Wharf tend to have more unique items in stock from time to time. Of particular note are the Ágrypno and Kyung Min for high quality weapons, and the Magisters for magical trinkets and tomes.
"Oh-ho, such a charmer," the woman responds with a smile and a wink, before turning to walk away. "I know just the girl. Come," she says leading Henri to a sliding door at the back of the entryway, to the right of where the conversing men are gathered. The woman slides it open and motions for Henri to enter, closing the door behind him.
Inside Henri finds a series of benches and shelves in an otherwise bare room. The shelves are organized into small cubbies, some bearing various articles of clothing and knick-knacks, others bearing only a neatly-folded towel.
While empty at first, another man does enter the room from a door at the other end shortly after Henri's arrival. He steps to one of the cubbies and removes his towel, the warm air of the room hitting his bare skin. He places it on a nearby bench and begins dressing himself with the garments left in one of the cubbies, paying the young Imardanian no mind.
Paying little mind to the additional man in the room, Henri makes his way to an unoccupied cubby and begins undressing himself and placing his belongings within it. Wrapping the towel around himself, he walks to the door across the room and proceeds to enter. Cleanliness, here I come.
Having done business with the Kyung Min briefly in the past, Grommak decides to check out their local wares. Maybe they've got what I'm looking for, he ponders hopefully.
On the other side of the door Henri is greeted by another beautiful woman, this one younger - probably his age or a few years his junior. Like him she is dressed in only a towel, her long, curly blond hair draping down in front of her as she reaches for the young man's hand. "Hello, ómorfos," she says with a smile.
She leads Henri down the hallway he finds himself in, past various other sliding doors towards one about 3/4 of the way down the hall, on their left. She slides this one open and leads him in, before closing the door behind her and dropping her towel to the floor. She looks expectantly towards him, then towards the bath behind them, a hot spring in the ground. It looks large enough to hold a half dozen or so before being crowded, and about two feet deep. Steam wafts from it, warming the boy and inviting him in.
The Kyung Min don't have a large presence in the Wastrel's Wharf, their efforts more focused in Talguta and, more specifically, on combating the Blood Lions encroaching on their territory. Their influence in the Wharf is restricted to a section of the eastern portion of the harbor, the neighboring few warehouses, and the nearby Lotus - the Wharf's most high class inn and tavern. Most business they conduct is done either on one of the ships docked in their harbor or one of the warehouses, though the Lotus has been the sight of some high profile exchanges in the past.
"Well hello, ma belle," Henri responds with a grin as the woman greets him. Once in the private room, Henri follows suit and removes his towel. "Shall we?" the Imardanian says, stepping into the spring. As the heated water hits him, he feels instantly relaxed and lets out a comfortable sigh.
Darcell waves back in response and chuckles to himself before continuing on towards the Saint. "Nice to see you too," he laughs to himself as he walks.
Arriving at the Saint he heads below deck to collect the other rifles and await Jane's arrival.
The woman smiles and nods, following Henri into the warm water. The steam obscures the young man's vision a bit once she is seated, but he can still make out the shape of her curves through it all. She takes a seat across from Henri, leaning against the opposite wall and sinking down a bit into the water. She keeps her eyes fixed on him, smiling when he looks her way and waiting to see what he does.
Darcell makes it back to the Saint with no issues and nothing of note happening along the way. As he boards he finds John, Rusty, and a few of the other larger men aiding Phil with restocking the ship's hold, piling crates and barrels near the top deck's grate so they can be hoisted below. John gives Darcell a nod as the man passes, but otherwise says nothing.
Once the guns are safely in his position and he's back above deck, Darcell notices Marian and Blackwood speaking outside of the door to the Captains' quarters. He cannot make out what either of them are saying, though Marian seems to be annoyed about something - a common occurrence. The larger men are still hauling cargo, and various other crewmen are working or loafing around on deck and on the docks below.
Well, it's probably best if I head to the Lotus to get the what's what, Grommak thinks. He steps to, keeping his eyes around him as he passes through the streets and alleys.
As the woman keeps looking his way through the steam, Henri can't help but blush slightly. Likes what she sees, does she? I don't blame her. He returns her gaze with a wink, as if to invite her over.
The path to the eastern harbor, and the Lotus, leads through a mostly-residential part of town with narrow streets, balconies hanging overhead with drying clothes, growing plants, and the sounds of the few people at home having conversations. Not many people pass by the orc on his way, as most spend their time at the taverns or the docks during the day. The few he does pass give the man a wide berth.
It is easy to tell once Grommak has made it to the Kyung Min's small territory, as the entire vibe of the neighborhood shifts from that of a typical port town to a small area of heavily Ya-Jarang-influenced artwork and residents. Few of the men he passes once near the harbor are of any other ethnicity, and most who are are elven slaves following after their masters.
Reaching the Lotus, Grommak encounters a few armed men leaning near the wall, chatting in Jarangi. They pay the orc no mind, and he is able to enter without any issues. Once inside he is quickly greeted by a lovely Jarangi woman in a floral dress. "Kon'nichiwa!" she says with a smile as she approaches. She is one of a few similarly-dressed women, the others helping to serve other patrons. "Hello! How can I help you?" she asks, a cheery and welcoming woman.
The place is busy, but not packed. Behind the woman there are tables both along the walls and in the center of a large, open room that expands to the right. A long bar takes up the wall to the left, with a staircase behind it on the back wall that leads to the next floor. Most of the people who are currently seated at the tables are armed and also Jarangi, though one in particular stands out to Grommak - Tarou Tengatsu, captain of the Swordfish.
Seeing Henri's wink, the woman's smile morphs more into a smirk. She begins to gently stroke her arms, applying water to them one at a time and wiping them down. Doing so causes her to move upwards a bit, and the young man is able to catch a few glimpses of her now-wet bosom as she does so. She faces to the sides as she does this, looking towards her arms as she wipes them clean, though she continues to glance the boy's way, provocatively.
Darcell returns John's nod but doesn't pause to talk. Waiting for Jane to show up to make the trade, Marian and Blackwood's conversation draws Darcell's eye. He casually makes his way over towards them, leaning against the ship's railing and looking around the quayside once he is within earshot of the two.
Grommak eyes the armed Jarangi men but nods a neutral greeting as they pay him no mind. The vaguely familiar sights and smells of the Lotus return to the orc, and he turns to face the woman as she approaches.
"Kon'nichiwa," he replies with a smile, knowing little more in the language than the common greeting. "I'm portside for a short time looking to do some business," Grommak says vaguely. "Is there someone I can meet with in private?" he asks in a low tone. The orc catches a glance of the Swordfish's captain among the tarvenfolk. "Perhaps Tengatsu?"
As the woman begins to wash herself, Henri slowly wades over to her, the steam obscuring his smirk. As he reaches her side, he joins her in applying the water to her arms and shoulders, waiting to see what she does next.
"...that girl!" comes Marian's voice from above, the frustration apparent in her voice.
"It is of no concern to you. She is here for a reason, I will not say more on the matter."
"She could be a spy! She only speaks Imardanian!"
"She can do nothing to harm us from the confines of my chambers, you can be sure of that." The Captain's tone shifts a bit, a hint of anger creeping into his normally-cold tone.
"It is foolish to kee-"
"It is NOT your place, and I will discuss this no longer. Now get back to work," Blackwood bellows, his voice a loud a deep rumble, encapsulating the power of the man all in one utterance. Few have witnessed him truly angry, but it is one of the reasons the his Dogs are so obedient.
The sound of footsteps is followed shortly by a shutting door. More footsteps follow as Marian descends the steps to the same level as Darcell. She glares at him as she sees him, saying, "the fuck do you want?" as she walks by, fuming. She does not stick around for his answer before she makes her way below deck.
The woman turns to look at the man Grommak points out, then back to the orc. "You may ask. Shall I lead you to him, sir?" the woman asks, quietly but just as cheerfully as before, leaning in a bit so only he can hear. "And would you like anything to eat or drink while you discuss your business, sir?"
The woman continues to smirk as Henri approaches, keeping her eyes on her arms until the young man's hands replace her own in wiping the dirt away. Once he is near, she turns to face him. "You should get clean too," she says with a smile.
Moving even closer to him, now sitting with her knees touching his, the woman leans forward to wipe Henri's much-dirtier arms down. Her hands are smooth, wiping the dirt away with a pleasantly-soft touch. Her leaning causes her to have to sit up, fully revealing her torso from the waist up, and causing her chest to occasionally move very near to Henri's face.
Grommak glances back at Captain Tengatsu for a moment before turning to reply to the hostess. "No, madam, but thanks. I'd prefer to myself." At her question of food or drink, he furrows his brow in candid thought. "Sure, actually. I'll take anything you Jarangi have brewed. You lot have that knack," the orc says with a short bow before stepping away.
He quietly pads across the tavern toward the table that the captain of the Swordfish. "Captain Tengatsu," Grommak greets once a few steps away. "May I sit down?"
"Ok! One moment please," the woman says, as she makes her way to behind the bar. Grommak approaches the captain while she is away, who looks up as the orc draws near. He does not reach for his weapon, but he does pause his meal to watch the man intently.
"And who am I speaking with?" the man asks, politely, though with concern clear in his voice. He has a deeper voice, like that of many Jarangi men. Up close Grommak can see beneath the hat he is wearing, revealing the face of a man in his 30s-40s, bearded and weathered by the sea.
Henri grins in return as the woman suggests he clean up too. "That is why I came here, I suppose," he says with a brief chuckle. As she begins to wash his arms, the Imardanian lets out a relaxed sigh and smiles up at her, enjoying the sight of her bosom mere inches from his face. "What I wouldn't give to have a bath like this while at sea."
