Gilded Bay No quarter from these chains

If she took offense to his choice to entirely ignore her demand for the time being she did a good job at masking it, at not showing it. In truth, Arturo doubted she truly cared one way or another. His name had once been enough to strike fear into hearts but that was in a different, begone era. An era of sanity and stability. When the gangster had his Family at his back and control — over himself and those who had joined the Hollow and thus, by extension his Family. Control was a precarious word these days, and it had become like smoke, slipping so easily and teasingly from betwixt his jaws. That was what the sea witch had done to him. Bowed him to a breaking point in his mind, where his personality had come to resemble a chimera: split in two, governed by two entirely different creatures.

The lady in question offered a shrug and ate her meal, not offering a word even as she polished it off and stood, and simply stared at him. While Arturo found the intensity of her gaze to be rather unnerving, his fiery gaze did not extinguish nor did it leave her. It appeared they had reached a stalemate of sorts and Arturo, being a gentleman, felt inclined to do the gentlemanly thing and respond to her “demand” of his name. “I am Arturo,” He introduced simply giving a soft pause, “Arturo Fearghal.” he added because those old habits died hard.