"Man this is whack!" Phylo slammed his tankard of ale down--mindful that it was empty first, so that he wouldn't waste a single drop. Glowering, he looked over his shoulder as though the object of his annoyance was going to waltz up at any second. All around him were tables, a sea of tables, all occupied by the flotsam and jetsam of the seas--pirates, corsairs, mercenaries.

It wasn't a good place to be if you were an innocent little thing, but thankfully Phylo was hardly innocent. Or little.

Beside him, Marya laughed a very unlady-like laugh and downed the rest of her drink, too. She scuffed a worn boot along the dusty floorboards idly. "So what? Cap'n made up his mind already."

"Yeah, well." He gazed into the bottom of his tankard moodily. "Something's wrong with his mind then."

Marya laughed again. Flagging down a barmaid, she ordered another round of drinks and then carelessly stuck out her leg, which promptly tripped up the nearest person walking past their table. She didn't apologize. Phylo glanced down at the prone figure, partly angling for a fight to work off some of his irritation.

"Hey watch your step buddy!"