Smokestep watched from a short distance with a beguiled expression on his features. One half of his face was drawn upward in a crooked sort of grin as his dual-colored gaze followed the huntress in her stalking of the plump seagull. He sat with his paws draped over a large boulder, splaying in the small amount of sun that had been granted to them that day. The wispy tendrils of his coat toyed with the wind as it brushed through and then subsided. The corsair had not wanted to spoil her attempts, though he had toyed with the idea of casting a bark of greeting to the red woman. Instead, he smirked and allowed his eyes to roam her figure – tight in anticipation of a leap to steal her catch. Smokestep's ears were cocked forward, waiting to see how long she would wait before making her move.

The red temptress stalked and pounced, and when he thought she might fail, he saw her fangs latch tightly to the feathers of the fleeing bird and pull it from the sky. It was an impressive feat, and he laughed softly at the sight of the wings beating against her face until it ceased to move altogether. When she finally planted her feet back into the sand and snow, she turned to him and wagged her tail pleasantly. Smokestep decided that he would hop down from his perch and close the space between them. With a lazy stretch atop the rock, and a wide yawn, the pirate jumped down and shook his coat free of any lazy sleep that might cling to him.

“Ye gonna put that in the galley, or are ye keepin' it all to yerself?” the corsair inquired with a playful wink and a sly smile that curled his dark lips. His legs carried him toward her with confidence and a swagger settled into each prowling step.

“Oi! Wot did that scurvy dungbie do to ye, lass? I am sure glad ye taught 'im a lesson,” the swashbuckler returned with a cracking smirk and a soft chuckle. After pulling up at her front, the pirate regarded her with a few sweeping gazes before settling on the gold of her eyes. His tail waved softly between his hocks, but the corsair held his head high. “I don't want nothin' to do wit' 'em if they're as nasty as ye say,” he then responded to her inquiry with a shudder and a feigned expression of concern.

“'Sides... I can catch me own meals.”

Roz appeared as though she was doing well in the bay. She had not changed much physically in spite of the chill that had settled across the waters. The sun seemed to show its face on very rare occasions, and Smokestep was starting to miss the burn of summer against his pelt. It would be nice when her grasp was finally released on the territory that they sought to claim. He should like to show Rosalyn a few tricks in the swell, if he was granted the chance. He glanced toward the water and made a tsking sound, as if the thought had sprung to him suddenly instead of having sat in his mind for several long moments. “How is the bay treatin' ye?”

The tone that laced her words caused heat to rush to his cheeks and flood them crimson. Were it not for his pale coat, he would have been flushed red and fumbling. Still, the pirate managed to feign some confidence and lifted his head up with a wide smirk that crinkled his features. With a soft chuckle, he indulged the speculation in a rumbling, “yer not wrong there,” before he managed to regain his composure.

Roz mentioned that she was getting on fine in the bay, which made Smokestep feel at ease. He could not afford to lose the red-furred woman, he felt. More than this, he did not want to have to hunt her down if she decided to drop anchor elsewhere. The rules were simple, and the code that they followed would hold them for the duration of their lives. Once a pirate... always a pirate. She mentioned Raptor, and this brought a sour expression to the corsair's face. He glanced down the shore and furrowed his brow some. “Pro'lly chasin' after me sister,” he remarked with a snort. The thought of Raptor and Sandpiper should have warmed his heart, but he felt a cold protection over the golden girl. It would take some time, but Smokestep was bound to get over his sable friend's attraction to Piper. Once he had, he would be fine with the pursuit, but would warn Raptor that he might not be too enthused with what he was getting himself into.

“'Sides, there's not another lass out there like ye, miss. Got meself a one 'o a kind crew member in ye.” There it was... the Smokestep charm. He cast her a swift wink before turning his head once more to watch the bay, hoping to spot Sandpiper in the distance.

The ghostly boy was moderately surprised at the idea that Roz had already met his sister, and even more so at the idea that she might have already forgotten her name. It wasn't like Sandpiper to leave a lacking impression on first timers. She had a barbed tongue and a way of lashing it around that would make even the most frightening of sea creatures flee to the depths at the sight of her. Smokestep had seen far lesser men cower at her shape than he would have cared to admit. Somehow, though, Rosalyn had forgotten her name. His baffled expression lingered for a moment too long before he helped her to remember the moniker, “Sandpiper.” The corsair hoped that it would do her well to hold onto the calling in the future. If she should happen upon his golden sister again, she would not be forgiving.

“Anyway, aye that's her. Hear ol' Raptor's got his eyes on 'er,” he tried to make the comment roll from his tongue in an offhanded manner, but his jealousy would have been easily noticed. The young pirate didn't know why his sister would want to traipse around with the sable wolf all day, anyway. Of course, Smokestep loved Raptor and his company, but... not around his sister. It didn't seem right. Quite obviously, that day was not the day he would be over the prospect of his best mate getting on with his family. Perhaps another would bring a better mindset to the possible coupling.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, Smokestep did his best to focus back on his conversation with Roz. He was far more interested in her, anyway. “I do get to parley wit ye, though, lass. I can't imagine it could be too bad if that's the case,” he complimented once more and shrugged a single shoulder to make it appear casual and of little importance. Smokestep would have been lying if he had said he didn't notice the flip of her tail and the glint in her gaze. More than this, he would have been lying if he'd claimed to not have enjoyed it. 

There was not even the slightest clue that Roz might have been baiting him for jealousy. He imagined that she was just as appalled as he was about the uncovering of Raptor's interest in Sandpiper. Truth be told, the sable wolf hadn't even mentioned an interest; he'd merely asked a simple question as to whether or not the golden Cairn was off limits. Smokestep had run his mate's voice through his mind more than once, and each time it brought a ripe sense of frustration that he had no real means of vocalizing. When Rosalyn inquired about the validity of Raptor's remark, the Captain nodded and then looked to her with a slightly gaping mouth and a daft expression on his features.

“Right? Can ye believe yer own two ears? Raptor and me sister,” he scoffed with a tossing of his shoulders and a furrowed brow. “Aye, we're best mates. Ought to be over the moon, but... that's me sister we're talkin' 'bout. She's just 'bout the best there is,” he then rambled. The words were not meant to be a comparison to anyone else, but to suggest that she was in a ranking all on her own. It was evident that he thought the world of Sandpiper, but the extent of his love was problematic. Smokestep could see no wrong in the salty Cairn girl and was always quick to excuse her actions.

Turning to face her with a hopeful glance, Smokestep inquired, “ye thought she was great? Didn't ye?

The young man could not have specified what it was that caused such love and devotion toward his sister. He had always been fond of her; then again, she had been the only familial companion he had ever known. Their father was not much for the way of nurturing and care, and neither were the two Cairn siblings. Smokestep loved Sandpiper because her constant companionship had driven him further than he ever imagined. She had been his rock, and she had provided him with a needed stability. Of course, his fault was that he had always expected everyone else to understand. In addition to this, the pale yearling had always imagined that others would agree.
 
Fixing Roz with a pointed stare, his ears splayed atop his head. Smokestep was confused that she had not gotten along with Sandpiper immediately. It was peculiar for him to hear the words uttered. “Ye just need to get to know her better,” he remarked with a small shrug. It had to have been a fluke of their happening upon one another and he fully believed that it would resolve itself in a matter of time. “Say, ye want to go fishin? Get yer toes wet,” he asked her with a crooked grin and a swinging of his tail. The sea was calling him and he had never turned her down.