Firestone Hot Springs And it's keeping me up at night, and it's keeping me up, oh

Smokestep released a booming laugh and tossed his head back at her initial remark. Poetry was something that had also escaped him, but he’d been intrigued by the mingling of words all his life. Her attempt had not gone to waste, though. The young pirate cast a crooked grin at her and nodded his head. “I don’t know, lass… ye’ve got a lick o’ poet in ye,” he encouraged her. It was genuine, of course; Smokestep would have never been able to conjure a saying close to what she had. Of course, he didn’t quite understand much of the poetry he’d heard, either. It was easy for him to admire something that seemed so advanced for him.
 
Wraen went on to say that she had found companionship on her mountain and that she had surrounded herself with like-minded people. He could echo the sentiment for his own founding, but Smokestep merely nodded his head to her and smiled. “I’m glad fer ye; I ought to come ‘long an’ visit,” he returned with a thoughtful expression. Tensions were challenging with the crew, but he didn’t think that Roz would have too difficult a time if he were to step away for a few days. She had taken a few beatings, but the young pirate believed that it would only make her stronger.
 
When the green-eyed woman inquired about him finding his own home, the Captain beamed at her and drew his head up with a great deal of pride; it swelled his chest. “Aye; the whole crew is settlin’ in nice. Ye should come see it sometime,” he answered her. The offer would always stand, he felt. Her story telling skills had rivaled his own when they had first met, and Smokestep had not come across another quite like her since he’d landed on the coast.