Stavanger Bay and twisted preservatives of life

rosalyn shielded herself from the wind and sandpiper followed suit, shoulders hunched as she braced against the cold. at least rosalyn had slowed down and accepted her approach -- she had not missed the woman's tension and for a moment, sandpiper had felt her stomach drop in both trepidation and the still-burning embers of shame.

she swallowed as rosalyn answered her question - just warming up. inwardly sandpiper felt her tongue barb: yeah, cause you're old, old crab. it did her no good to utter it and she quickly changed tactics. looking at the first mate carefully, sandpiper blurted a half-stifled "for what?"