Sea Lion Shores it's not a real party until someone's smallclothes are pinned to a chantry board

Ah, she had been won for the moment. Smokestep beamed at her with his open-mouthed, tongue-lolling, foolish grin that cast wrinkles against the sides of his cheeks. It was well worth the effort, though. The unnamed female had watched him for a moment before she had taken it upon herself to jet across the beige shores and bark hauntingly at the nearest sea lion to her. Smokestep lowered his head somewhat to follow the fatty creature’s line of sight and he yapped excitedly when she had herded it back into the murky waters.
 
“Thar ye go, lass!” he barked in an encouraging tone. Always the rabble rouser, Smokestep was eager to see if she would join him in a sprint on the – now open – stretch of beach. She sauntered in his direction with a flagging tail. The pirate lowered his torso to the damp earth and swung his rear back and forth. Once she had drawn somewhat closer, he lifted his front half up and pranced around her in a half circle. “Fun, innit?”