Stavanger Bay Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart

The red woman was quick to make an effort to turn his words on him. In spite of what she said holding some merit, the pale wolf chuckled at her and then tossed his head back in a joyous laugh, though it was not one that included Rosalyn. He was laughing at her. It was like she had trotted fresh out of his father's stories of Ksenia; some self-righteous cunt looking for any reason to get a step ahead in the world. He wasn't sure if she had any idea what kind of a hole she was digging for herself.

“An' ye think they'll follow the likes of yerself, Rosalyn? Ye think that ye earned that position? Well sink me, then, yer about the best an' brightest we've got, ain't ye?” he mocked her with another chuckle and a swish of his tail in delight. None of her words left a mark on him. He still believed that his sister was further in the right than she, and she was nowhere near a proper persuasive attempt. Fixing her with narrowed brows and a cold expression, Smokestep took a step forward and drew his head rightfully above her own. It did not matter if she had taken the First Mate position; he was still the Captain. “Ye didn't earn it. Ye took it. Ye don't even have yer sea legs, lassie an yer tryin' to prove that ye can run the crew. Pathetic,” he remarked with a small shrug and a devilish glint in his gaze.

With a huff, Smokestep's ear swiveled atop his head and he frowned at the woman he had thought so fondly of. “Ye ought to know better. As Captain, I do what's best fer the crew, and that includes the right leadership bein' appointed. First Mate's job is to tend to the Captain, didn't ye know that? If yer lookin' to tend to the crew, ye ought to have fought Raptor fer his rank. But I gots a suspicion that the crew wasn't on yer mind either... ye just wanted a leg ahead, didn't ye?”