Sea Lion Shores unus

The sea lion was not enthralled with the loud-mouthed wench, and demonstrated its distaste for her by flopping its arms and waddling back into the waters. This was an unfortunate turn of events for Smokestep, for the pirate was waltzing directly into a verbal shooting range, and he seemed to have a bullseye painted against his skull. When the inky woman turned to him and spat a greeting, the seafarer smirked coldly and drew his skull upward without a moment of pause. The dual colors of his gaze roamed over her frame with a sad tsk noise before he shook his head.

“Don't want nothin' ta do wit ye, lass. Yer a bit o' a handful, far as I can tell,” he remarked in a careless drawl. His dark lips did not move from their curled perch, and he swished his tail at her lackadaisically. The seafaring lad had no fear when it came to the verbal assault of others, but he was not particularly inclined to endure it so close to his home. If she was looking to spit fire, he would char his body to hold his pride.