The Day Before (open)

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    The Northman and the Raging Bastard docked in Westby before they were to sail on to the Avilon Isles. There were some last minute supplies he figured they were going to need and so port was in order. Secured and anchored, Logen stepped down the plank to the walkway to meet with the harbor master to pay his fare. But as he concluded business and stepped out of the man's office, an old friend came to meet him.

    Sir Roland Burmis, the long-toothed Howling Wolf Knight, and a handful of his brothers came to greet and question the Northman. His reputation had preceded him, not to mention the last time Logen was in town, the matron and patron of an orphanage was slaughtered. He was still wanted for questioning on the matter. So when the Northman returned, the Knights were waiting for him.

    Within the circle of the arbiters of justice, Logen's left hand drifted to the hilt of the Wolfblade, eyes narrowed and stance adjusted. Four men at the ready, waiting for Roland's command did not bat an eye. Duty, beyond all, was their will and they would see it done no matter the cost. Logen didn't have time for it. He had obligations this day and did not care to see them delayed. The same could be said for Roland, who chose to use his words rather than his weapons. Then again, for that man in particular, they were one in the same.

    "Come now, Vul'klaive. If it vas violence ve vawnt'd, ve would have begun already. Set your hand at ease, and my brothers vill do ze same." Both of Roland's hands were held up and then slowly pushed down and outwards to signal the other knights to fall to ease. He offered a wolfish smile then to the Northman and raised his brows to try and ease the tension of the situation. "See? Ya? Come on, ve'll talk and settle old rumors."

    What Logen knew of Roland was that he would hold himself to his word, but that didn't mean the others would. On faith alone, the Northman released his grasp on the bastard's hilt and eased his own stance. Still, he remained where he was, the group of man making it difficult to navigate for incoming sailors and merchants. Roland had taken note and suggested they move on to walk and talk as it were. Side by side, Roland and Logen took lead on the entourage's path to speak of the past.

    No doubt the group attracted attention and whispers. There was one of the most renowned knights in Doxenia speaking with one of the most wanted men in all of Arith, The Butcher of the Loch-Shorn skirmish. While there was no love lost between Doxenia and Rumeria, politics were in place. The two went back and forth with questions and answers as they walked down the side of the streets. Logen answering the unknown about the events within the orphanage, the explanations of the evils that happened within. And the blood trail of dead officers involved in the revenge of the Gypsy.

    While Roland was a man of the law, he was also a man of true justice. His decision to rule the situation of required force, he'd leave it at that.

"Just keep ze Vul'klaive peace-tied, yes?" The last suggestion Roland would offer the man before he and his brothers left Logen in peace just outside The Red Hood.

Once Roland was out of ear-shot, Logen replied in a low tone...

"Not a damn chance."

[Cordelia de Clare]

It wasn’t just happenstance that brought Cordelia to Westby, her ship was still docked at the port awaiting repair and, if she ever managed to get around to it, improvement. There were many things Cord had to do while she was here and it was really starting to get under her skin. Her first port of call had been The Crimson Rose and once she was happy that everything was running smoothly under Cyanea, the ship's mage, she had walked to The Red Hood. This particular inne held special place in her heart, for it was the first nine she had ever purchased with her own gold, under the moniker of The Vixen. It was under her alias that Cordelia had grown in fame whilst her real name had fallen to the wayside… that was until the death of her entire family and she was suddenly in the lime-light for an entirely different reason.

The woman in question had witnessed the tense situation from the doorway of the inn where she was perched upon a stool, a knife in one hand and an apple in the other. Both of her elbows were rest upon her knees, which were covered in the material of her skirt, while she slowly and methodically, started to cut away the apples peel. “Bunch of puffed up do-gooders, if you ask me.” She said this with a grin upon her lips and a brow arched slightly, “not that you did, but well, I’m more than willing to partake with my opinion when it suits me.” The apple peel was falling to the ground as surely as the snow settled in Alzord; before it could fall it too far, she snapped it up with the knife and started to chew on the edge. Cordelia would have-had to be dead to not know who the large, brusk man was – The Bastard had been the talk of the port, and its captain was infamous. “Is that how you’re greeted wherever you go, darlin’?”

Her own Knight had been leaning against the wall just beside her, his large frame posed to be ready to move at a moments notice should anyone get any funny ideas when it came to Cordelia’s person. He was scowling at Logen, his brows furrowed but it was to Cordelia that he paid the most attention to and it was her dismissal that had him push up from the wall and head back into the inn. “Like I said, puffed up do-gooders – I’m still trying to iron out all the starch from that one.” That was funny because Cordelia de Clare had never ironed anything in the whole of her privileged life.

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    "Sometimes... Most times, less civil." Logen replied without turning his gaze from the retreating Howling Knights. Once they were out of sight, the Northman turned his gaze towards the woman in the doorway. A quick evaluation occurred of attire and effects, posture and grip. By the time he had turned to face, her guard had already disappeared back within the confines of the Hood. After his mind turned away from the possibility of threat, his ocean blues took in the grandeur of the woman that spoke.

    Her hair, dark and lustrous, carried a sheen that blacksmiths strived for in their creations of beauty. Skin seemed to be without imperfections, darkened slightly by the caress of the sun. She had eyes that clutched and controlled, commanded attention and focus all the while offering what seemed like promises of care and kindness. An aura of confidence that spoke to the subconscious of those that could be rendered thralls with just a whisper.

    And for a moment, his mind wandered. Sought out his imagination to view a pairing, the possibility of moments to be shared in secret, sanctified or sinful.

    What she wielded was dangerous, her aura of beauty verus his inability to fend off the seduction, purposefully or by circumstance. So easily charmed the Northman could be.

    By his blink and slight shake of his head, she would know his train of thoughts. She'd recognize the force of will made to focus on the here and now; the return from Neverland. And for a stalwart poise to resist, a deep breath was taken in through his nostrils and released in a quick sigh. She said something else, Logen. Pay attention.

    With a step or two, the large man covered some distance to shorten the gap between the pair. He wanted to speak softly but had no reason to do so. He forced his attention up to read the name of the establishment, or seek a character that made the business stand out from the rest before he stepped into the shadow the building cast upon the street.

"I'm sorry... You said something about starch?"

[Cordelia de Clare]

Cordelia was quite used to being watched, examined, stared at and undressed all with a gaze. It was why she was good at her job, why she was able to sell anyone a fantasy – whether they realised they wanted it or not. It was for that very reason that she waited for him to return from his stupor, while she finished off her apple. When he finally did come around, Cordelia was rolling her tongue against the steel of her knife, to make sure she captured all of the juices. The blade itself was tucked away into a pocket in her corset, near one of the straps that held it tight against her form. “Welcome to the Red Hood, best damn whore-house this side of Westby.” She was proud of her business ventures, so she was going to sing it loud, and proud – besides, the entrance was all but a dead give away and the wonderful scents that wafted through the door every time someone passed them helped too.  

Cordelia was quite sure that this had not been his destination upon arriving in the city, and that the Whimpering Wolves had waylaid him, but well when she saw the opportunity for new business, she was going to leap on it. “Fancy a tumble? Since you’re famous, I’ll give you a discount.” It would be easy to assume that she was one of the girls who worked there from the way that she spoke, and that was exactly why she did it – she wanted to weed out those who were observant enough to realise that she was far more than the clothes and the beauty: there was a viper deep within, and it was forever ready to attack.  

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    The only tip he could offer for the woman would be that she would draw in more customers enjoying bananas, rather than cutting up apples.

    The offer had him intrigued, almost wanton, but still there were too many details about the woman that essentially defeated herself. Even whores broke a sweat and her not having the sweet, salinized smell of a few hours of work on her being would hint she was either just starting her shift, or that she wasn't truly one meant to be on her back. A step closer, drawn by her natural presence of body, and the Northman could pick apart the truths.

    Her beauty betrayed her. Not an imperfection to be seen, even the pearl purity of her teeth showed that she hadn't been a whore, or at least, had made a career out of it. Her freedom to haunt the doorways where others would be eye-candy in the windows or made to wait inside for customers to have their pick. Logen wasn't a stranger to brothels and most he knew wouldn't operate in this fashion. As sultry as she could be, her clothes weren't provocative and seemed far too orderly and shielding, then again she was in public. No free peeps, guys and gals.

    Inevitably, it was a single thought, piercing in the way it moved and assaulted his mind. This is a farce, Northman. Tread carefully.

    "I am sorry, fraulein. But I don't have enough hours in this day to enjoy what you offer." And what joy would the---Damn it, Logen. Get a grip! The guttural tone he carried on his tongue was a bastardized mix of Doxenia and Alzorc, which most often led people to assume he was born of those two places. But in truth, no one really knew where he hailed from. If she were to watch, she'd know his eyes never drifted to tease himself with her form. He held an unnerving stare upon her eyes that reflected a predator below. She may be the viper in the pit, but if she weren't careful, the Northman could be the mongoose.

    He had seen the woman before, a year ago or so but never got her name. Never came to know what or who she was. His curiosity held him bound, at least long enough to inquire a thing or two. "Upon my return, I'd be happy to pay for a day of your time if the offer stands. What is your name? So that I can ask your madame of your status..."

[Cordelia de Clare]

Cordelia didn’t sell herself, unless she really wanted to and that was rare and was often for a price very few could ever afford. Most of the time her sheets were simply kept warm by those that intrigued her, were as powerful or more so, or just someone she wanted to corrupt. Thankfully, she didn’t feel the need for provocative clothing, nor the need to reveal too much of herself than needs be – what was generally more alluring about her, was the mystery and the challenge she presented.  

“Shame…I had a few hours to waste away before my next… appointment.” That being with the Heart, and not with a client. A grin tugged upon her lips and she was about to turn away to return to her seat at the bar of the Hood when he spoke again. Turning back on the heel of her boot, she leant up against the post that held up the canopy across the entryway; sometimes, if there was a large amount of hungry sailors, Cordelia would present the best of her women on the balcony above it to tempt them in. At that moment in time though her ladies were busy with her own crew – ironically, they spent all the coin she’d given them for the voyage, in her inn… so it was win win for her. “A whole day? I don’t know anyone in all of the kingdoms who has enough coin to spend a whole day with me at their command.” She didn’t answer his question about her name immediately, “But if you think you do, then please feel free to come back… ask for Vixen.”  

Cord didn’t turn to leave immediately, instead she watched the man curiously, it was quite odd to hear someone with such an accent and although she knew who he was – who didn’t? – she didn’t really know much more about him that rumours. “You have a mighty fine ship. An Avalonion? Best in all the kingdoms, I reckon.”  

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    The Bastard is still new to the waters... In time it will prove the craftsman of the isles worthy or it won't. Of course, he didn't buy any ship off the market at whimsy. He had done his research, compared the pros and cons to each vessel then selected what spoke to him. There was a small shrug of his shoulders and tip of his head in neutrality. When it finally came through for Logen, he might have more passion for the ship.

    It was at that time the Logen's boatswain approached Seeing the commander held up by an enchantress, he touched Logen on the shoulder and muttered something low to the Northman's ears. When Logen tilted his head towards the man, he listened and then nodded in accordance. Left hand reached within his surcoat and retrieved a small bag that chimed and jangled with movement. It was passed off along alone as the boatswain already knew what was required for the trip.

    With a shift of responsibility, it seemed Logen had time to spare... The boatswain stepped on without a command required and Logen shifted his gaze to the Vixen. Another step taken would bring him to the edge of over hang, hands coming rest at his sides in a casual manner. The position had him tilting his head just slightly to manage to keep eye contact with the woman. "You haven't given me a cost to return with, Miss Vixen." Note that he said cost and not gold. There were things more valuable and precious than gold and that was a good thing, too. Because Logen was broke.

    "I'm sailing out today for the Avilon Islands and won't return for some time. You'll have to give me an estimate before I leave or else I might end up returning empty handed." Finally, he severed his attention from her to inside the Red Hood for but a second. Noting the bar within, he turned his gaze back to Cordelia and offered a solution. "We could come to an accord inside where you weren't associating with a wanted man in the public eye..?"

[Cordelia de Clare]

She remained quiet while he dealt with his ships man, there was no point in coming between them and she wanted a moment where he wasn’t trying to break through her defences with that penetrating and calculating stare. She could feel the power emanating from him and it stirred something within her that she rarely felt – intrigue. He was ruggedly handsome, with a brusqueness about him that she was sure the ladies fawned all over. It felt like he was posed for battle at any moment, and she found herself checking him for weapons beyond those that were clearly visible to the naked eye. There was much to this man that wasn’t clear upon the initial introduction.

His business over, her gaze returned to Logen’s and she tilted her head a little, not realizing that he was about to step so close towards her. Her reaction wasn’t to jump away, it was to stand as still as possible and not give up her lean, and then her power in the situation – she dared not step back, or even flinch – she didn’t even unfold her arms. “Do you like being challenged?” A practiced grin danced in along her lips, her brows arching with the question. “Whatever I ask for in return for a day with me, will be a challenge – even for you.” His solution wasn’t answered with the spoken word, instead she pushed up from her lean and turned on the heel of her boot – effectively turning her back upon him, and made her way into the Inn proper. “C’mon then, sailor.”

It looked just like any tap room, full of tables chairs and sailors. There were a few women dotted around but they were not lounging around in their knickers, they were serving drinks and food. The “good stuff” was upstairs, complete with a parlour and several bedrooms; beneath the kitchens was a whole set of different bedrooms and toys, but that was another story entirely. At the bar there was a single stool beside the wall that no-one had touched, for everyone knew that, that was the stool of the Mistress of the House, Madame Vixen. The taproom was clean, and pleasant for what it was, Cordelia had very high standards, not only for herself and the Inn but for the girls that work there too.

It was to that very stool that Cordelia made her way and upon reaching it, she settled her rump upon it, making sure to smooth her skirts beneath her beforehand. Her whiskey was sat in front of her before she had even finished settling, the girl behind the bar was awaiting Logen to arrive, before Cordelia said: “Give the man whatever he wants, sweetie. It’s on my tab.” She didn’t really have a tab, all the alcohol belonged to her anyway but still. The girl turned her attention upon the man and awaited his order. Cordelia on the other hand, was shifting one of her sailors out of the stool beside her and banishing him to a table. “So, let us negotiate – for a full day, and night with me it will cost you a ship, but not just any ship – a strong ship, with a hold big enough to be able to ferry whatever I wish.”

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    Logen fell in tow of the woman's lead within the establishment, glancing over the place with a look of familiarity and appraisal of how things had changed since last he was here with the gypsy. A thought went to Lela for a moment, which inspired a slight smirk upon his face. Rian, the expunged Howling Wolf, was sized up in passing as he followed her to the bar's edge. As they neared her seat claimed, Logen removed the gloves from his hands and rolled up the sleeves upon his shirt, cuffed to the elbow. The motion revealed the ancient words inscribed upon his forearms. Per Virtutetum on his left and Cinero Calvariam on the right.

    When she ordered a drink and offered hospitality, Logen's right hand flashed two fingers as if to double up the order. The same hand reached into the folds of his surcoat and removed a piece of paper, rolled and tied in place with a piece of twine. Once the drinks had arrived and the tender stepped away, Logen stood right next to the woman, blocking the view of others behind or whoever may enter through the front door. Personal in spacing, but his choice in doing so was simply for privacy. When she spoke, she had his attention, brows rising as she seemed to get to business right away.

    After she levied her terms, the Northman's face took on an expression much akin to..Seriously, that's enough.

"I don't believe you intend to fuck me for a ship, nor do I believe that is your standing in this establishment." Logen knew the whores that worked in the Red Hood. He knew the previous owner and would have been greeted by her as soon as he walked in the door. His left would raise and untwist the binding of the map then pocket it. The right rolled the parchment out along the bar before her. It was a depiction of the northwest hemisphere of Arith, of Doxenia and the Isles and a circle in red in the middle of the Jade Sea.

    "I am heading here..." A large, tattoo'd index finger thumped the red circle on the map. "If I'm right, there's going to be a ship without a master and goods to claim for resale." Whether or not she decided to look at the map, or keep eye contact, Logen was intent at directly setting his ocean hues towards her. "I came here looking for someone that might venture to command and sail the unclaimed ship back... Fortunate for me to run into the Mistress of the Crimson Rose..."

[Cordelia de Clare]

Cordelia watched Logen with a look that could only be described as amusement. “Oh, I don’t know – I’ve fucked a man for less and do you know how much a good ship costs? I think I’m worth at least a Colossal Greatship, don’t you?” She grinned lightly, and took up the small short of whiskey that had been placed in front of her, and knocked it back. “Besides…” She said, then paused to enjoy the burn of the alcohol down her throat. “I don’t recall offering you my body in exchange for a ship, just my time.” She clucked her tongue upon the roof of her mouth, and said: “What was it? That’s right, you wanted a day with me – if you know who I am, then you know that my time is as big a commodity, if not a bigger one, than my body! Though…” She paused for a moment, and then tipped her head to the side to expose her neckline, and heaved in her chest to accent her breasts, “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Cordelia left him to consider that, and turned her attention down to the map; she loved maps, especially well-drawn ones… they were like a serviceable work of art. Her fingertip followed the path from Westby to the islands he had jabbed his thumb upon, before looking back up to him. While her gaze was on him, her fingertip had trailed along the tattoo on his finger, and up along his hand; an impish little grin appeared tugging at the corners of her lips. “Mm, and what will you be doing while I’m commandeering this vessel? And what happens when we get back? You expect me to just give it back to you?” A brow arched slightly as the question was posed – by this time, if he hadn’t shaken her off or moved, her fingertip had trailed up along his wrist and onto his arm, covered or no.

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    He didn't directly answer any question, at least not right away. He was intent to see just how far she'd carry the affection through caress of his arms. He did not move it, allowing her to trace along sinew and vascular cords. She'd the feel the texture of scars, flesh raised from invasive ink that felt energized from the power bound within. But as stoic as he could project, his skin betrayed him by rising with the slightest bit of goose bumps from the toying of a stranger. What the body yearned for, the mind could ignore for awhile...

    "My part in this will be cutting a path clear for you to take up command. Along with a select few members of the Heart." It seemed slavery meant a death sentence for those who deigned themselves beyond natural law. The rule of forfeiting one's life when proven too weak kept such balance in the world. There was always someone stronger. "None of them have the foresight to realize the value of a good ship. Obviously, the same could not be said about you."

    His left hand reached slowly, setting his thumb upon the peak of her chin while his index curled below the rim. In an eased motion, he tipped her chin down to slightly open her mouth to satisfy his curiosity to see what she would look like... Panting beneath him while she gazed upwards into his lust-longing eyes. "No... What I see in you is ambition and guile... Not a single drop of a whore's surrender to the world in you."

    Another movement, a lean, eased his face down to her own, leaving only a breath's space between them. The whiskey on her breath curled a grin upon his face as his imagination allowed him a theory of what could transpire, but the thought was fleeting. When he spoke, his tone was low for her ears only. "The ship is your's, Captain... Not that you need my permission to keep what you want."

[Cordelia de Clare]

Cordelia was quite used to the effect she had upon the people around her, which was why she was such a confident, ambitious woman. His lack of movement spurred her on and eventually the wandering fingertip had traced around the tattooed words upon his arm, very gently, caressing along the skin until she felt the goose bumps. “So, you want me to take command of a ship – for nothing?” She didn’t believe that in a second, so she asked again: “What do you get from this? Apart from the continued pleasure of my company, of course.” Perhaps it was some sort of ploy to get her away from the comfort and safety she enjoyed in Doxenia. It was a fleeting thought but one that wormed its way through her mind and took root where the paranoia that kept her alive lived.

Whatever it the thought had been developing into was interrupted in the moment she felt his fingertip on the cusp of her chin. His words elicited a grin, “You think whores cannot have ambition and guile? Not all women go into the profession because they have no other choices.” The scene they were creating there at the bar was keeping the rest of the inn’s clientele entertained, so much so that if a pin-dropped at that moment in time it would sound like an explosion. “Some actually enjoy it…” Okay, so those women were few and far between but safe Houses, like The Red Hood were just as scarce.

“Nor take what I want.” The words casually fell from her lips, riding a husky wave of unfulfilled desire after he just as casually broke into her personal space. He wasn’t the only one with an imagination, and Cordelia had sat there – so close, and within ravishing distance, was allowing hers work over-time. She had considered numerous times, the power emanating from within him, and how it would feel to ride that power until both of them were spent. “Ships aren’t the only thing I like to make my own…” She murmured before closing the space he’d left, and brushing her lips – not against his, but against his cheek; at the same time, she pushed herself up from the stool and her body into his, before she slid and twisted out of proximity, so that she was stood behind him, rather than relinquishing the position of power any longer.

If that didn’t surprise him, the fact that she was now pressing a well-placed dagger in against his inner thigh, while her hand rest in against his back might. “If this is a trap, you won’t have to worry about satisfying the lust in your gaze any longer because I’ll take everything about you that makes you a man.” To Cordelia, this was all just foreplay – she wondered at the decision for but a moment, for she was quite sure Logen could obliterate her without even working up a sweat.

[Logen Wolfsbane]

She's afraid. 

    A healthy fear, not unprecedented with the current situation. Here was one of the most revered men in Tenebrous stopping by and offering up a deal for free, almost. Was it guile that made him so successful or treachery? What they spoke about him... They being the rest of the world, he didn't pay attention to. He knew what crimes he committed and what choices he had made and therefor did not care about rumors and mistruths.

    She had deflected, placed herself back within the dominant's place and issued her careless warning. Drew steel and set it against him in a flirtatious manner. In the midst of it, the Northman has risen to stand up straight and allow for it to transpire. He heard the whisper of steel on leather, felt the pressure build against his thigh. Listened to her words, without so much as a gasp.

    At that moment, he smiled... Well, grinned. He was finally able to reach for his whiskey without having to reach over her. His right hand casually took the shot glass and tipped it against his lips to swallow the splash of spirits. When the glass was set back to the bar, he had a choice to make. Would it be some silly one-liner comment to answer her warning? Suggestive innuendo about how she was going to take all of made him a man?

"If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you in the street... And with my reputation, what use of a scapegoat do I have?" His left hand slowly raised out, bent in at the elbow and reached behind him to take her hand by the wrist that had the palm against his back. He then set her palm against the handle of the Wolfblade. The motion was meant to be a small lesson... He would have believed it more that she might cut him if she tried to control his weapon. Food for thought. He would turn his head, to peer over his shoulder towards her. She could read the arousal in his eyes and if she didn't move her hand soon enough, she was going to feel it.

[Cordelia de Clare]

It wasn’t so much fear as it was caution, there were a lot of ways that Cordelia could be brought down, and she didn’t want to feel that fall any time soon. That and she rarely trusted people who came around offering free things. Yes, she had blossomed into the life she had now through privilege but through watching the day to day happenings in the court of Doxenia, and even in the small Duchy of Drowsing – she saw how things worked. Politics and money, that’s what made the world go around.

It wasn’t often that she found herself surprised but today was one of those days. Of all the things she’d calculated he’d do before she put them in this position, reaching out and placing her hand on the grip of his blade was not one of them. “Who said anything about death? There are worse things than death…” Like being poor – the very thought sent a shiver down along her spine – which he would most likely have felt given their proximity.
Finding herself in quite the quandary, Cordelia considered her options: she could either relinquish her grip on his blade and remove her dagger, or she could follow through with her threat. In the end, he’d feel the pressure of the blade removed from his inner thigh, and her hand was dropped from the grip of his blade. “You’re either extremely brave or extremely stupid. I’m not exactly sure which – I could have had you in a pool of your own blood within seconds.” She was pretty damn quick with a blade, plus she could shoot a man between the eyes without even blinking.

“Admiral Vixen, has a nice ring to it, eh, Logen?” It was the first time she’d used his name, even though she’d mentioned she knew exactly who he was – it was also a sign that she was not going to follow through on her threat. The Syndicate was her money maker but it was The Crimson Rose that was her pride and joy, she wasn’t sure what she’d do with another ship but she was quite sure she would figure it out.

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    Of her skill, he would not doubt. It was why he had lived as long as he had. He did not underestimate potential opponents and had learned too many times that it wasn't the strongest arm that brought victory. The gambit he made was ill-advised, at least that would be the offered wisdom had he received it. None-the-less, he found success.

    When he turned to speak to her once again, she'd find that the Northman was in the midst of sheathing the saex knife he had wielded in the midst of pulling her focus to the hilt of the Wolfblade. The audible whisper of steel on leather sounded until the thickest part of the tang was cinched in place by compressed, cured leather. He might have ended up in a pool of blood, but it would have mixed with her own. A wolfish grin was on his lips from the moment he turned, no doubt that she might think twice before trying the stunt again.

    "Don't get ahead of yourself now, Captain. I've promised a ship, not an armada." Hands then reached for the gloves he had pulled and stuffed into his belt. One after the other they were pulled on in a taut fashion until comfort was achieved. A slight tilt of his head to the right and then another cant to the left as he studied the woman before him. "Should fear of betrayal not grip you again, meet me at the docks tonight and we'll sail out early... That way I can drop you off in Avilon before the rest of the Heart arrives." He didn't need their suspicions growing in the midst of voyage as to why the Northman had the Duchess of Drowsing aboard.

    With a glance and a reach, Logen took hold of the map he had laid out and began to roll it up within his hands, eyes set on the vixen. Not so much out of paranoia, more so awaiting any further questions she had about the mission in process. She was right to think that nothing comes for free. He was going to ask something of her in the future... Favor for a favor... His hopes that this would be the beginning of a good business relationship with it's own individual perks.

[Cordelia de Clare]

“You call it fear, I call it self-preservation. I’m a human in a magical world…” Her shoulders were lifted in a shrug before she returned to the stool she’d surrendered minutes ago. The barmaid already had her next shot of whiskey all lined up for her. “I might be there, I might not… who really knows. My mood waxes and wanes.” Cordelia was definitely going to be there, she was as savvy a business woman as she was a flirt and who could turn down the chance of a ship – though, she knew full well it wasn’t going to be for free.

Her gaze didn’t drift from him as he “packed up” to leave, a brow arched slightly though and she motioned towards the staircase. “Fancy a tumble?” There was a pause before she added with an impish grin. “I have a girl or two that could be just what you need.” Oh, she certainly wasn’t offering herself – the warming of her sheets was for someone else that evening. “On the house, of course.” She was still the hostess, even if he was the one who was offering the business and it was only fair to offer the full houses wares to complete the … transaction. “If not, I’m quite sure that we’ll see one another soon enough…” There was a wink, and the grin upon her lips subtly changed to something else, close to a smirk but not quite a full one.

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    "Like I said before... There isn't enough time in the day." Once he had everything collected in place, he'd deliver a swat of the map to the side of her leg for a playful instilling of precedence. "Be there at the docks and you'll have another ship at your command.." After that, he wasted no time with any more games to be played. He simply moved on and out the door to go see his ship out of port.