Stavanger Bay rows of houses sound asleep

A smile curled his lips and he turned his bowed head to glance at the pirate with a mischievous glint. "Aye, an' the irony's not lost on me, either."

She turned to inquire a good breath more of him, yet where another's words might've razed him, her query rolled off his shoulders. "A crew, if there's a rung in your ladder for the likes of me." Gallows quite liked the spirit of this one, and if he'd met her in any other instance, he'd've found a good many quips to parry back. But he restrained; for the heartbeat, business took priority.

"I might've hoped to find a certain captain livin amongst these sands. Tall, pale fellow," with this, he drew himself from his prone position and settled at a more comfortable height, in part to get a better glimpse of the pirate he spoke with, and in part, to watch what thoughts she might let flood through her face. The shadows obscured her finer details, but the moonlight revealed a ruddy wolf, well-maintained, with a glint of gold set narrow on either side of her muzzle. She struck no semblance of recognition, but that hardly dampened his prospects. His mouth remained piqued with the slightest curve, "Smokestep. Patched him up a few moons ago. Rumoured a want to start a crew round these shores, and this here's the first crew I've found."