Ravensblood Forest salt wavering

he squints at her sudden sickness, brows knitting like it’s a personal inconvenience.
aye, now ye askin’ fer favors, eh? he mutters, voice all gravel and sea-slick bite but he doesn't move right away. figures. take a man’s strength an’ then beg off when it’s time t’ pull weight.
still, he shifts, rises, circles her like a dog claiming territory. the curl of his lip is somewhere between a grin and a sneer.
i’ll talk t’ the cap’n, aye. get ye off fer a bit. but ye owe me.