FANG
Emryk placed his hand on Leo’s shoulder and pulled him back from the Captain as gently as the big man was able, even still nearly taking Leo from his feet for a brief moment. Leo’s eyebrows knotted together at Emryk’s actions, his mouth twisting into a hard line at his hasty attempt to explain Leo’s distance and words. Leo had never stolen a heart, and he had no intention of killing the woman. Why then would Emryk warn against such an outcome?
Stoic silence fell about Leo as his mind struggled to make sense of things. He could feel Emryk’s rumbling speech vibrating the space between them, but the words fell on deaf ears. Leo could kill, he was unabashed about that fact, but he did not simply kill anyone who crossed his path. Surely the well spoken reptile could attest to that much as his life still beat within his chest.
”Well, you'll fit right in. I haven't much need for anyone to be killed at the moment, but there are always floors to be cleaned. You'll need dry clothes - those are fit for the rag bucket. I'd send you to my quartermaster, but he's busy getting piss drunk."
At least she had not thrown him to the sea, or locked him in chains and bars. The gracious woman had even offered him clothing, though it seemed the person who would handle the distribution was busy. Piss drunk was phrase Leo had heard often from the prison guard’s mouth, and though he did not quite understand the words he knew that obtaining a piss drunk often incapacitated the one who gained it for some time.
”I don't fuck crewmates. Just everybody else."
Another word Leo knew only slightly, one that had only ever dropped from the mouths of men who were often angry. It was a coarse word that fell hard from Sinead’s fair lips and settled into the conversation like stone, and from what Leo had gathered from the handful of times he had heard it it seemed to indicate a displeasing action in which one party lost much. A good captain would never fuck their crew, that much made sense to Leo. He was not particularly keen to be fucked, so he wondered why Sinead would think that he was?
Emryk consoled him, driving the crease between Leo’s brows even deeper as he spoke of writing letters to some maid. Neither of the pair made much sense, and realization dawned on Leo as if he were plunged back into salty depths. Somehow Leo had not communicated correctly despite his best effort to emulate the always well taken Baron. Guiltily Leo looked back into Sinead’s stare, enjoying their warmth a moment longer as Emryk’s heavy footfalls made their way below. Should he try again to speak with the captain? Perhaps another attempt without the lizard would better serve Leo’s purpose?
He blinked slowly, for a moment too undecided to make any move greater than that. Ultimately he turned away, trailing after Emryk to the men’s quarters and the promise of dry clothes. Perhaps without the distraction of sopping cold and bare skin his next attempt to speak with the beautiful lady would fare better. As Emryk stepped into Soren’s cabin, or what was once his cabin, Leo wandered away, lost in thought and turning every word of his conversation with Sinead over in his mind.
He had not joined her crew, so perhaps she was warning him that she would take from him until he did? It did not quite feel right, did not fit well with the way she had spoken. Besides, Leo had nothing to take but life and limb, and Captain Sinead was certainly not of the same ilk as Solomon King. Leo suspected she had little use for his life and less for his parts.
Leo had wandered well away from the men’s quarters so embroiled in his musing that he paid little heed to where he went. Each step occupied the rest of Leo’s faculties, the swaying of the creaking Hard Nox threatening to take his weight bearing foot from the floor each time its opposite was lifted. As he walked through hall and hull his feet became more sure, his legs less wobbly as they rolled with the pitch and yaw. By the time he stopped Leo was completely balanced, in his body if not in his mind.
Leo’s stomach rumbled painfully as he looked up from the wood below to finally see where he had led himself. He wrapped an arm around his complaining midriff protectively as golden eyes took in… doors. He had wandered away from the men’s cabins only to find nearly identical doors. The woman’s cabins, then?
The horrible stench that assaulted Leo’s nose did not belong in a woman’s quarters, however, and even his complaining gut rolled and went silent as the combined scents of sick and rot assailed him. Leo covered his nose and mouth with his hand, looking around for the source. He found the sick near the door of a cabin left open, and when he peeked into the room he saw a circular symbol drawn on the floor, vaguely familiar, that caused flames to leap to life in his chest. He had almost forgotten that feeling since leaving the Truth Teller, but sight of the necromantic leavings brought his rage boiling again to his throat.
After a quick survey Leo determined it was only stench, and not an undead presence which the strange marking summoned. A small relief, but certainly not for the senses. Well, Sinead had said she did not need anyone killed as of yet, and eager as Leo was to please her he set about performing the one other duty which he knew. He snatched a sheet from a nearby cot, and with swift motions he ripped a few good squares from the material. The rest he tied about his torso at left shoulder and opposite hip. With his makeshift shirt and handful of rags Leo set upon his task, making quick work of the offensive pile at the door and the unnatural markings on the floor.
Without bucket and soap, however, Leo could do little. As he tossed soiled cloth through a nearby port hole Leo considered what to do next, sitting on one of the cots with his head in his hands. Truthfully he was a bit lost, not only on the ship but in purpose as well. He knew two things: One, he would kill Solomon King. The other thing made less sense to him, and if spoken would seem daft. After all, why would a killer simply want to be near a woman as effulgent as Sinead? He belonged in depth and shadow where he had always been kept, unleashed only to spawn death and chaos until returned.
He needed a bucket, and his protesting stomach would not hold its silence much longer before it sought revenge for its neglect. Leo stood from his pensive position, satisfied that he had eliminated symbol, sick, and scent to the best of his current abilities before exiting the cabin and heading back up to the top deck. The stars twinkled in the sky and Leo blinked up at them with wonder. From his cell, occasionally, Leo had seen the moon and stars framed by bar and stone. Never had he known the vastness of that studded sky, never seen the brilliance of all of the lights that smiled down at him. He felt small, but in that same moment he felt important.
