Ravenshook Cliffs The days are no longer my own

The man missed whatever effect his kind words had upon her, because he was too busy staring out at the ocean and the rocky cliffside. With a slight loom of his heavy-set figure he took a bold stance at the precipice, looking over the edge in a way that should've made the average person's stomach twist with anxiety. Nope, no body down there. When he withdrew he gave her a coy glance, the wind whipping at the espresso-dark fur of his face. Ain't no livin' after a fall from up here, I can tell ye that much, if anyone did survive then it would've been the will of the sea; She was a horrible mistress to be enslaved to, but anyone worth their salt would've owed a great debt. That said, he was now immensely curious about the girl and her hunt.

He took a few steps away from the ledge just in case she turned her moodiness upon him (or chose to toss him overboard too, since apparently she had a track-record for such behavior) and appeared to look at her in a new light. No longer was he so interested in the curve of her hips or the softness of her curves. Ye be sent on yer own fer such a task? My, ye must be a mighty warrior! He didn't mean to sound condescending but the slight laugh at the end might've come off as such; What else ye good at? Betcha could handle yerself out here by the sea easily enough — but yer forest, suppose it's got yer heart?

Was he trying to hit on her? Invite her back home? Woo her away from her pack? He wasn't sure what he was doing, which was typical. Dubloon tended to run his mouth when he was impressed and so far, she seemed quite impressive, and very different from what he was used to.