OOC: JP between
@Sail3695 and
@WanderingwolfThe sun hung low in the sky as Cal caught sight of the China Doll. He’d snagged a pilot and doc, which might get them off this rock, as long as Badger’s men had made good and handled the parts he’d sent this way. The closer he got, the apparent repairs presented themselves: the thruster guards were installed, so at least they wouldn’t burn up on upthrust. The remaining fixes had been in the belly of the Doll. He made a mental note to check their work as he approached the young woman he’d hired this morning.
“How’d we do, kid,” he scanned the darkness of the bay, seeing several people moving within, “is she heavy with work?” His hand was held out for the sheet.
Abby handed the clipboard off. “Tolerable,” she replied. “New Melbourne’s a good run now, what with Tuna Season kickin’ off in a few days. Got three cargo shipments,” she pointed toward the line items of the ledger, “an’ booked a couple rooms fer passengers...folk headin’ over tah get jobs on the fishin’ boats. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of Badger’s crates, or that Baker woman,” she shrugged, “but we got her room all squared.”
Something about the way Abigail pronounced ‘New Melbourne’ brought a smirk to Cal’s face. For a youth, she certainly put out airs of having done all this before. He shook his head, congratulating himself on sizing her up proper. Cal let out a few ‘uh-huh’ sounds as he glanced over the clipboard, flipping pages. “I’m sure they’ll be along. Got a feelin’ we’re gonna be makin’ dust soon as they show.” That’s when he came across names of crew in Abby’s scrawl. “Well, I’ll be damned. You let Rex Black on my ship?”
“I
let tha parrot onboard,” the girl countered. “As tah tha man what brung him, he’s tha only one come lookin’ fer the First Mate’s job. I tole him it weren’t official til ‘yew said so.”
Cal handed the clipboard back to Abby. “Well, Abby, preacher says we all sin.” Strand fished a cigarette from a silver case and stuck it between his lips before meeting her eyes. “Parrot?”
The teenager gave a diffident shrug. “I liked the parrot.” She pointed toward another name. “Gotcha another deckhand. Joe Hooker...goes by ‘Hook.’ Nice fella. Got callus an’ muscle in all tha right places. Couple weapons, so he’ll as like scrap if he needs tah.”
Strand nodded, striking a match on his book. “Way things are goin’ might be scrap ahead.” Cal shot a glance over his shoulder at the byways what led to the Doll. Expecting Badger’s men was an uncomfortable feeling. “Any other’s come a-callin’? Gonna be a short trip without a grease monkey if things go sideways.” He drew on his smoke, checking the height of the sun. “And much as I ‘mostly’ trust the gentlemen fixin’ up the bird to do the job, I’d appreciate a second pair o’ eyes on their handiwork.”
Abby shook her head. “No mechanic come knockin’ yet...jest them as I mentioned, and that pilot, Penelope.” As she spoke, a self conscious hand rose to fuss with her hair. “Some passengers, an…” She fished in the pocket of her denims, probing fingers coming free with a coin purse. “Here’s tha take,” she said as the pouch changed hands.
Cal pocketed the coin and considered patting Abby on the head, but seeing as they’d just met that day, he thought it of sounder judgement to hold off on such familiarities. Instead, the captain produced his silver cigarette holder again, holding it open to her, “Here, good job holdin’ down the fort, kid.” He pulled on his own, directing the smoke trail upward.
For a moment, she looked cautiously upon the neat rank of cigarettes. “Perty much my job on the last boat,” Abby replied as she carefully extracted one from the case. She took a moment, working the cigarette between her index and middle finger, before glancing toward Cal for a light.
Strand watched the teen as she carefully removed a cigarette. Snapping the silver clasp, Cal struck a match and cupped his hands in front of Abby. “What happened to your last boat?”
The girl leaned forward, pressing the cigarette to the flickering match flame. “Cap’n lost her in a card game,” she watched the paper turn black and ignite. “New owner sold ‘er fer scrap. I’s lucky enough to hitch a ride tah Persephone.” She pressed her lips to the filter, pulled in a deep lungfull, and immediately doubled over as wracking coughs sent her into spasms.
Cal fought the powerful urge of laughter at the sight of the fresh-faced Abigail Travis choking on her first cigarette. Instead, he offered a half-hearted pat on the back, “Ain’t you a little old to be havin’ your first cigarette?” Sure, the
la shi he smoked was the bottom of the barrel, but it hit the spot. When she offered only coughing in response, he added, “You know, got a doc comin’ what can take a look atcha when she gets here, if’n it’s miner lung instead.” His smile hid between another pull.
“No…,<cough, cough>... I ain’t….,<cough>.....yeah, my first, “ Abby wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Uncle Bob….the Cap’n….never let me try….<cough> The girl regained herself, opting against a further attempt at the smoldering deathstick. “I’m alright...mebbe it just ain’t fer me, is all.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Cal replied. “Find me when Badger’s men show. I want to put eyes on cargo and passenger.” He sighed, not like he could say ‘no’ to the storm that was coming. “An’ keep an eye out for a mechanic; I dunno, heckle a few people or somethin’,” he added, helpfully.
Abby reacted with a smile. “Watch me work, Cap’n.”
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