Ravenshook Cliffs The days are no longer my own

Dubloon wasn't usually a very perceptive person when it came to women. He had a mind for fighting, raiding, and maybe even leadership if he could find the right crew — but the interpersonal drama that accompanied women was never worth it, in his mind. He could tell by looking at her that this lady in particular wasn't native to the coast; she seemed to be in an emotional state, and wasn't calmed by the presence of the sea. It helped when she responded too, because that was a dead giveaway he was dealing with a landlubber — but that was okay, he could roll with it. A part of him was already blaring warning signals and telling him to back away slowly because somehow, he knew he didn't have the space in his life for a moody lady — he had the sea, and she was moody enough for him — but Dubloon didn't always make the best decisions.

Aye, yer not from the coast then, he voiced his thoughts, presumptuous and to the point. He shook the salt from his coat a moment later, finding satisfaction with the fluffing of his find dark coat (and possibly trying to peacock for her, who knows). The man looked her over with a deliberate eye, although not a lewd one. She seemed to be healthy and fit, even boasting a golden coat the likes of which he had never seen before — she looked like shining gold and he wondered (thankfully not aloud) if anyone had plundered that booty. Get a grip, Dubs.

He wasn't leaving yet. She hadn't given him any reason to, and it wasn't like anyone could lay claim to the sea or chase him away from it. So he loitered, and eventually commented (against his better judgement), What's a fine-lookin' lass like yerself doin' all the way out here, then? Not thinkin' of swimmin' with the fishes down there, are ya? Would be a mighty waste.