Stavanger Bay And as you get back into line, a mob jumps to their feet

Smokestep would likely never be good at apologizing, but if there were to be a decent example of it, it would have been how he had demonstrated himself in front of Rosalyn. The boy had vowed that he would never turn into his father, and he had every intention of keeping that promise to himself. He had the blood of the Cairn in him, and while they were a lot who had a penchant for ruthlessness and steadfast beliefs, he wanted to show that he had enough soul to really care about the consequences to his actions. Feeling the strain that he did with Raptor was enough; he did not wish to feel ill toward the red woman any longer.
 
She seemed to accept what he offered and returned with her own attempt at amends. The pirate drew his ears forward and listened, knowing that she could not understand his love for his sister or the idea that he would truly give every inch of his hide and life for her if she should need it. Smokestep wished that he could share the feeling with her, but he knew that it wasn’t something that he could offer, and so he huffed softly, and his gaze darted to the right. “It ain’t all ye’ve got, though,” he reminded her through gritted teeth. His gaze darted back to her features and they lingered there, intently.
 
“This crew’s yer family now too, innit? Sandpiper is yer family now too. Ye’ve got all o’ them, an meself, so yer pride is the last damn thing ye should be worried ‘bout,” the yearling added, elaborating on his original piece. Part of him expected that she would lash out at him for taking such a steadfast stance on it, and for lacking tact in delivering it to her. The marauder did not know how he could have softened it, though. He lacked the years that it took to break his language down and make it formal and polite.
 
“Yer doin a fine job… as First Mate,” he then added with an awkward shuffling of his feet.