Wheeling Gull Isle The Bagman's Gambit

He spat a final muscle into the sand just in front of his outstreched forelimbs before looking up to see that the wench had stopped her trot and turned to face him with a malicious scowl.  She lobbed words of the sharpest acumen at breakneck speed in the Habit's direction, but his expression remained relatively unfased, in fact, the corners of his mouth twisted upward into spry and charming grin.

So feisty. The Habit liked that.

Truthfully, he cared little for his name or reputation, as he was sure he'd likely sully it without much thought. Also, he had his rations right here; ripe for the picking. The Captain, if he planned to kill him, would have done it when he was at his weakest, barely concious and crawling across the shore. But still, the thought begins to turn the gears in the Habit's head.

He rose to his feet.  "You blackmailing me?" he asked with a strangly out of place grin. "You're a fun one, you know that? I guess I have to go now..." He strolled down the beach slowly and took his ever sweet time before arriving at the woman's side. "So uh, lead on matey."