Nicki stood with her arms wrapped around herself and listened to the story with a slight purse to her lips and a crease to her brow. She had not heard of this Anansi before and so she missed a great many of the nuances that would be so natural to Luc who had likely been raised on such tales. Nicki was fond of stories or rather, she was fond of books, printed words that read the same over and over again. Words that did not change and could be counted on and referred to. She understood and counted upon them.

She felt a prickle across her skin at this story. It was so fluid, so changing. She understood that if Antonia were to tell the tale again she would use slightly different words, and that would change it. But it was clear there was some substance to the tale. Such tales gained richness with the retelling of them. Such tales were good at touching places deep inside, the places that every person has by virtue of simply being human. Nicki, grown up in a household of a scholar had learned to read before she’d lost her first milk-tooth and had never had the telling of a story. She’d been read to, for certain, but told a story? Never before and she found questions pressing at her. Questions about the plausibility of someone being as foolish as this Anansi had been. Who would take rotten nets to a market and expect coin for them? Who would be goaded into work while the other slept? She pressed her lips together to hold the questions in. She didn’t want to appear a fool and she didn’t want to disturb the delight of the boy. On a deep level Nicki understood that such questions had no place in the story, that it wasn’t about logic. But it bothered her. 
 
She heard a voice calling from above and flicked a glance up, understanding that it was Jax who had addressed her. His voice broke her spell of aggravation at the incongruousness of the tale. She waved up at him, still unable to see him but strangely grateful for the break in her thoughts. He would understand the tale, she was certain. He would grin that aggravating grin of hers and make her eyes narrow upon hearing it. It would make her feel dull but even so she wanted to see his reaction to the tale. As if in somehow predicting it’s outcome for Jax gave her some way to measure and control it. She shook her head and was stepping into the cabin, her cabin, before she had known she was going to move. She silently stalked to the bolted in sideboard where she kept her medical equipment and fished out a small tin. She opened it and slipped a small pink and white swirled disc out and placed it in front of the boy. 

“It is a peppermint.” She said without preamble. “It is good for stomachs that might not be used to the sway of the sea.”