Stavanger Bay Shaded me on summer days

Rosalyn agreed.  Whether she'd said as much or not was unknown, but there were two possibilities here from where she stood... Sandpiper was dead, or she had run, and by the Captain's own ruling the first would need to be true after.  Yet she doubted that little rule applied to family.  True family.  She had a while yet to be bitter, and while she wasn't exactly processing Piper's disappearance (one thing at a time) she had a number of things to be upset about.

Raptor was giving her another.  Her expression darkened as he fell again into that damnable self-loathing.  She could appreciate his sentiment when it came to Smokestep, but she felt the rest had about run its course.

"If that's what you want," she said, her patience thin.  "Then fine.  I just know I can't have a quartermaster that avoids the crew.  So if you want it, you gotta do it.  And if you don't want it?"  She shrugged.  "I'd take you as my first mate, you might have some advice worth hearin.  But first you'd need to get your head outta your ass enough to give a damn about the rest of us."

Rosalyn was never good at mincing words or sympathising.  And even less so when her own edges were so frayed... the timing was unfortunate, and Raptor was getting an unfair share of an internal storm.  But they were words she still thought needed said, even if they incited the male to attack her.  It was a line she walked with almost alarming regularity.