Slink. Slank. Slunk. (Temperance)

[smee1]

There was silence, for a moment, Temperance's face hovering over Captain's only enough for her to feel the tips of his facial growth. She was certain, for a second, that he was about to kiss her. And Temperance considered, for a moment, if she would let him. But then he pulled away, rising back to his feet. As he spoke, she felt his hand pat her on the head, a scowl rising to her face. Seriously? A simple good night would have done. She was not a child. Her dark eyes watched his silhouette, as he made his way back to his patch of floor. Truly, she was glad that it was so dark, because her face burned with anger. Not that she should have expected anything, but... Ugh.

Without another word, Temperance laid back down, bringing her blanket up to her chin. Dutifully, her little tabby came and curled up at her side, but Temperance honestly paid the kitty cat little mind. Her focus was on the breathing of Captain, who laid on her floor, trying to gauge if he was asleep or not. Eventually, however, sleep took her.

And almost as soon as she felt like her eyes had closed, or so it seemed, Temperance's alarm went off. She silenced it on the third buzz, flipping off the heinous contraption that proclaimed the time to be 5:00 am. Frumping her hair groggily, Temperance's feet touched the cool floor, making her bed in the dark. It was all routine at this point, all auto pilot. The same as every morning. Except after she grabbed her towel, and started to shuffle to the bathroom, when her feet brushed a lump on a floor. Not just any lump. A breathing, human, lump. A shot of adrenaline rushed through her, as she jumped back, catching herself on the nearby wall.

HOLYFUCKINGHELLWHOWASONHER-

Oh wait. The man from last night. What was his nam- oh, she never got his name. Captain, that's what Temperance had taken to calling him. She wondered, for a moment, if she should wake him up. Her foot had only brushed him slightly, certainly not enough to wake him. But then, no, she remembered her warning. She was to carry on, as if he was not here at all. Or... attempt to. Sighing, she stepped over the dashing boat thief, checking out her window to make sure they were still in port. They were. Good. She wouldn't have to shoot him.

The rest of her morning went on with the routine of Temperance Bae's life. First, she showered. The water didn't run very warm in the boat, but she was use to that, and she never stayed in there long. She dressed quietly, the summer air allowing for breezier clothing. Jeans, a striped tank shirt, an open button down with rolled up sleeves. Work boots, steel toed, but light considering. Her hair was locked in a loose braid, and she wore no make up. She was not there to look pretty, at the moment. She was there to get her work done.

Satisfied that she was clean and dressed, Temperance went into the small kitchenette, pouring Bonney's breakfast into her bowl, and grabbing herself a granola bar. Curiously, she looked down the small hall, seeing the lump still on the floor. Was he sleeping? Maybe he was pretending to be asleep. Who knew? Scratching the cat behind it's ear, Temperance started the coffee, breathing in deeply. Maybe the smell of coffee would wake him up. Jittery, she kept peeking around the corner, reconsidering this whole letting him sleep in thing. After all, she had to go on deck, and that would leave him alone beneath. But, it wasn't like he could steal anything. She'd be right there. And Ching Shih was not exactly spacious. It wasn't like he could tip toe away.

Honestly, what choice did she have? It was almost six am, and she was the one who let him stay. Pouring her coffee into a thermos for herself, Temperance decided that the noise above deck would wake him before long. Grabbing a coffee cup and a pack of mini muffins, she set them on the counter, leaving a little note on a yellow post it.

welcome to the captains table.
T.

Grinning at her cheek, Temperance headed above deck, thermos in hand. Above she began the process of swabbing the deck. First a power wash, the smell of salt water whipping around her, black hair loosening in the braid. After that, soap and water and elbow grease. This was a long, grueling, meticulous process. But it was a happy labor, as Temperance whistled various sea tunes. No matter where they strayed, the old catchy tune 'Pirate's life' always managed to find her lips, coming out in a high whistle or a low hum. Scrubbing would take about, oh, two and a half hours give or take. Mostly because of how thorough she was. While she was at it, Temperance scrubbed down her grill, which acted as her stove, as well as a lot of her fishing supplies. Then another power wash to get rid of the suds.

Then other various chores: checking the sails, checking the ropes especially the stay, shine up any oxidization, refilling sealant, oiling up the windlass (which sounds way dirtier than it actually is), . With a sailboat, generally run by one, there was something new everyday. The elements were harsh after all. But by noon, everyday, Ching Shih wold shine on the dark gray port water, like a white jewel. Especially in the summer. And Temperance would always end it, brow covered in sweat, hair a mess, cloths smelling of the sea. In the heat of work, she had almost forgotten about her guest.

Almost.

After cleaning the windows of her beloved sailboat, she put away the maintenance supplies, and looked down into the entrance to below deck. Would he be awake? Removing her work gloves and shoving them into her back pocket, she headed down. "Captain? You up. It's near noon..."

Miss Tempy.

[HUNTER KNOX]

Gradually, the sunlight hitting his eyes brought Hunter out of his unconscious state. Right. It would be just another day on the job. He'd just grab his bag and bring it to some shady corner of te city, and from there he'd be able to pick out the straggling sheep among the flock. He'd be able to spot the few chosen ones who would want to escape their mundane lives with a little bit of chemical aid from Hunter.

...But wait.... Something wasn't right here. The last time he'd checked, that small section of street he usually hunkered down for the night in wasn't nearly this comfortable, and it hardly had that lulling rocking motion to it. Cautiously, Hunter lifted one lid, taking a quick look around. He didn't make any sudden movements in case there was someone watching.

He was temporarily blinded by the vibrant sunlight filtering in through the window, but his eyes slowly acclimated to his surroundings and he got a glimpse of where he had spent the night. In an instant the memory of the girl with the gun and the boat and the teasing way she had gotten so close and the sensation of her breath on his skin.

Warily, he looked around the cabin. It didn't appear that the spritely young lass was anywhere to be found. Above deck, Hunter could hear someone whistling and a general commotion of someone bumbling about. He felt safe in his analysis that he would be able to have some time alone without any interruptions from the little temptress any time soon. If that was the case, then it was doubtful that sch an opportunity would arise again where he would have the chance to look around the cabin and see what sorts of booty was to be found.

Being careful to make as little noise as possible, Hunter got p from the section of floor he had curled up on, leaving the afghan in a tumbled mess at his feet. Now the only decision to be made was exactly which section of the girl's boat to tear apart and search through first. It was only a rare happening that one was left alone within someone's -for lack of a better term- home, and Hunter planned to utilize the luck Providence had provided him.

Honestly, it was the post-it note that first grabbed his attention. Oh, she was a witty one, eh? Leaving notes for her sleeping tenant? Feeling particularly conspiratorial, he slid over to the tabletop, eyes briefly landing on the note with it's sarcastic little message. Only vaguely intrigued by the signature and trying to think of any possible assortment of names that could fit with "T," he moved on across the table, ignoring the bag of muffins and coffee cup. He could eat later. Right now he didn't want to risk alarming his gracious host by opening a noisy bag of muffin bites.

He worked his way down the counter, looking for anything to rifle through. Unfortunately, it seemed that she was fastidiously tidy. While this was a WONDERFUL quality in a potential life partner, Hunter personally rathered that the people he stole from be slovenly as possible. He had found through years of experience that tidiness generally signified a certain degree of paranoia and a need to hide ones valuables in safes or such like. It was those who couldn't care less where their things went that would leave the wallets laying around in plain sight for Hunter.

After opening up a few drawers and finding nothing but cutlery and a few worthless ancient coins, Hunter decided it was time to move on to her cot. It would be the next logical place for someone to hide their cash, wouldn't it? And while his hostess hardly seemed like the type to have inordinate amounts of extra money lying around, she also seemed unlikely to keep all her earnings in a bank account somewhere. No, it was probably on the boat somewhere, and by God, Hunter was going to find it.

The fact that Hunter found nothing beneath the pillow or the blanket was disheartening, but not the end of Hunter's search. Lifting up the cot a bit, he reached beneath it, face positively lighting up when he felt something beneath it. Pulling his prize out, he wondered just how much money he had stumbled upon.

"Come to Papa..." He yanked the mystery item out. At first he didn't understand what exactly it was, the mangled old thing had obviously seen better days and had been worn down from use over the years, but after flipping it over a few times, Hunter felt that he could safely identify it as a children's toy of some sort. Disappointment clearly showing in his face, he was not prepared for his hostess's sudden arrival below deck. he was caught redhanded, with the toy helf at eye height and a look comparable to that of a deer in the headlights. Shit.

"Oh...uh....Mornin'." he offered weakly, giving a forced smile. "Thanks for the muffins, Miss... T?"

[smee1]

Well, this was pretty horrible, was it? There he was, mysterious Mr. Captain, standing in her room, her old tatty walrus in hand. Which had been under her mattress, which meant he was snooping. And probably found her money. Honestly, did no one respect the kindness of strangers anymore. "Temperance." She assisted, stepping forward, and taking the walrus from him, and putting him back beneath her cot. There was a sharpness in her eyes, though her voice remained soft and nonthreatening. A lock or two of her thick, black, hair fell from the loose braid, as she leaned over to remake her bed.

She hated disorder on her boat.

"Did you take anything else?" She inquired, tucking the blankets in around the edges. "Oh, wait, you wouldn't tell me if you did, would you? That presents a problem..." Temperance was not about to bother asking if he took it, because he was obviously in the right area. If he had found the walrus, fondly named Mr. Schmee, then he had found the money. If he had found the money, he had taken it. It didn't occur to her, of course, that she might have interrupted him in his search.

It wasn't even that Temperance held it against him, honestly. She doubted he could really help it. Being left alone in someone's living quarters, it was far too much temptation for a rouge like this. Still, while she didn't blame him, she certainly wasn't thrilled to be stolen from. Even if he was sorta good looking, if you liked that sort of thing. "I guess I'll just have to frisk you?" With a smirk, she cocked her eyebrow, though still her voice remained calm and polite.

But all joking aside, if he tried leaving the boat with her five hundred smackers, Captain would also be leaving with a bullet wound.

It was nothing personal.

Walking to the little kitchenette, Temperance poured herself another cup of coffee. Black. No cream and sugar, because you really just shouldn't bother if you're just going to dilute it all. Sipping the hot, acrid, liquid, she grabbed an apple and a knife. The muffins weren't touched. Captain had apparently been too curious with his surroundings to eat. Slicing into the apple, she brought the piece to her lips, still on the blade. "If you're wanting to go, you should do so soon. I'm taking the boat out in a bit." She said, musingly.

Temperance was generally a girl who knew what she wanted, and it was a simple life, because she didn't want much. That's why Temperance found it so disconcerting that she wasn't sure whether she wanted him to go or stay. There was something so familiar about him, and she liked the smell of the power he secreted. He was a man who seemed to need to be in a position of power. But, at the same time, he obviously could not be trusted.

Decisions, decisions.

"Whatever pleases you, I don't care." She shrugged, licking her lips of the apple juice. Cutting into the apples flesh again, she appeared nonchalant, despite the anticipation she felt concerning his answer.

[HUNTER KNOX]

He had to admit, this was not the best of all possible situations. Shouldn't she have been working on the boat up above them? He had sworn he'd heard her working up there the whole time he had spent snooping around through her things. Mentally, he kicked himself for managing to get distracted from that all important drone of mindless clanks and steps from up above. He SHOULD have picked up on the exact instant that she had changed activities and headed for below deck. Jesus Christ, he was certainly starting to slip. There had been a time where he would have been so acutely aware of everything going on that he NEVER would have been caught with anything. He could have slipped away into the shadows of some eternally avoided alley, or vanished from an entire city to somewhere halfway off across the country in the matter of a single night. This, though, was unacceptable. Caught standing there with some stuffed animal like a little kid snooping where he didn't belong.

He half expected her to assign him some time out in a corner somewhere based on the way she plucked the walrus or seal or manatee or whatever out of his hands and stuffed it back under the cot. He had to say though, the way she was taking things so lightly was perhaps the most annoying part of the entire scenario. He was used to the rough and angry bravado that came with toeing the line a bit too much with some of the people on the street. This banter based on passive aggression and mental notes spoken aloud was strange. It wasn't necessarily UNWELCOME, it was just asking Hunter to use skills that had grown dull from lack of use. Well, not that Hunter had ever really needed to use them. That had been the Captain's forte once upon a time, when he'd sat long hours at a desk with just maps and charts and stratagems worked out on how exactly he would find and destroy that blasted Pan. Oh yes, the Captain had been the one in charge of any and all banter and skills which might require the use of cleverness and most adult things. Hunter was more for the modern art of drugs and other assorted activities.

Both Hunter and the Captain, however, were at a loss for how to proceed. Miss Temperance seemed all too happy to tut queitly to herself and go about her daily routine, musing aloud about how she would be setting off from the docks in all due haste. Hunter merely watched her, still standing exactly where he had been caught. She was a mystery to him. He didn't understand how she could be so calm and yet so forceful with her simple little actions and helpful hints. He had seen the fire and brimstone within her last night when she'd brandished that gun like she had been raised with it. This however, this was an entirely different side of her. A much more cool and collected side. If he was being truly honest, he wanted to spend some time to get to know her a bit more, so that he could understand both these different sides of her. He had to admit that someone who could both be fiery and cool as ice would certainly be a boon to him, if only to keep him in line when he got a bit too emphatic on certain subjects involving flying boys.

This was in direct conflict with his overwhelming desire to remain completely and wholly alive, however, and his will to live was rarely trumped by some intriguing little floosy. He hated to say it, but splitting this intriguing little boat scene seemed like a much more enticing prospect than sticking around to see exactly where she went fishing. Besides, it wasn't like he would never see her again. New York was notorious for having very many places to park such a conspicuous vehicle as a tacky old fishing boat. He could take a break to regroup and organize his thoughts and then make his way back here at night. Or on recurring nights depending on how things went. Who knew?

"Well, my darling," he began, strolling over to her and plucking the apple directly from her hand. She wasn't the only one who could take things and treat people like children. "If you're so intent on gallivanting off to some distant fishing spot, I'm afraid I have no choice but to leave you for the day." He was frankly surprised at his own eloquence, but glad that the old skills were slowly coming back. It felt good to use them again. Modern people rarely appreciated such abilities of diplomacy and tact. "Bon voyage and all that, y'know." He bit into the apple, walking backwards from her and bending down to scoop up his bag. It wasn't until he was at the door that he paused in his walk. "And Miss Temperance, I do thank you for all this hospitality. It's a rare occasion that such a nasty beginning as last night's turns into such a lovely morning."