QUIRBLES
Emryk fingered the broach a moment, turning it over in her hand to wipe at the smudged charcoal before clutching it firmly in his palm and slipping the jewelry into his jacket pocket. "Trades," He murmured idly, stroking his chin a moment longer before brandishing a departing smile. "I'll have to remember that! I'll let you know if I find anything worthwhile to exchange. Have a wonderful rest of the festival, Miss Lula."
And then, with a nod, it was back to wandering through the festival. Idle glances were spared to the remaining booths, but his thoughts inevitably returned to that which weighed so wearily upon his conscience. What would he say to her, upon his return? Perhaps it was best just to give the herb and cloth over without acknowledgement. He'd-- leave it in her clinic, yes, and be out of her hair. Perhaps he'd linger until the next port, and then get a job there-- or perhaps he would simply remain at the festival once his obligations had been fulfilled to the doctor.
"Hmh."
First, it had been a plan between the two of them to eat, hadn't it? With the coin Emer had given him, Emryk visited a simple baker's stall and purchased a bit of bread and cheese-- nothing expensive, certainly, and just a bit of food as a parting gift. Then, it was back to the ship, alone with his thoughts once more. The walk was as long as it was silent, save the bickering within, and he boarded the Hard Nox with nary a sound. Only the creak of wood, telltale and heavy, brought word of his arrival. The Baron was large, after all, which meant hiding was a near-impossibility. The return to the clinic was equally as conspicuous; the main deck creaked under his weight, and the floorboards shook with every pounding footfall of his brisk pace. Normally, he'd give a bit more thought to courtesy, but most of the crew was out celebrating. Perhaps it was best he'd slip away now, when they were all occupied. Less time for them to care, and they'd all soon forget he was ever there. Including her.
Emryk opened the clinic door with a soft creak, stepping gently upon the boards of the room and setting the herbs alongside the clothes Emer had bought. For whom, he did not know. He supposed it was not his business to ask such things, closed off as she was, and he certainly wouldn't pry again.
Looking over the collection of bottles and flasks a final time, the Baron shook his head, sighed, and made for the exit.