Cerulean Cape to haunt, to startle

Smokestep was far too young and daft to know whether or not her interest was genuine or feigned. Even the discontented expression that had flashed across her features was ignored in the prospect of pulling her to Ironsea and making her one of the crew. He would not have described himself as desperate, but his actions clearly demonstrated a deep need to recruit others. The pale corsair did not have a desire to watch his crew flounder from the start, and he was eager to get them upright and standing. While she was a quiet thing, Smoke imagined that she would get along well with Piper, and that even his salty sister would not have been able to tear her down. It was a good sign of resilience that she had survived as long as she had, in her state. He wanted that lively blood in his ranks and he wanted it sooner rather than later.

“Well, if yer lookin' fer a place to drop anchor, we're over in the bay. Bunch o' rowdy pirates an' the like, but ye'd fit in well. Ye'd be well fed, if anythin',” he stated with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and a small smile. “I'd just expect ye to pull yer weight, o' course,” Smokestep then added in a far more somber tone. “There's only one thing; ye join the crew an' yer a member fer life. Once a pirate... always a pirate. If ye think ye can stomach that, then yer welcome aboard.” The statement was simple enough, and he offered it to nearly all of his recruits in hopes that it would spur a desire to linger longer than most. He knew that he would have those who would jump ship, but they wouldn't survive long with the Ironsea crew at their tail.