The captain sat up straighter when Elara entered, dropping his boots off of the table and letting the front legs of his chair lean forward to rest against the floor once more.  He watched her idly as she came to be seated too, and exhaled a last plume of blue-gray smoke before letting the noxious cigar idle in a nearby tray.  The [i]Aleph Null[/i], safely away from the heavy freighter and on course for Havenstad once more, was being piloted by one of the sailing master's underlings, freeing Elara to join these meetings as needed.  With the wardroom at the far aft of the ship just beneath the main deck, and the navigation room just above that, the girl could race to the helm in under a minute should anything arise.  Not that he mistrusted her choice of second - though he couldn't remember the lad's name to save his life - but it was a comforting thought nonetheless.

"Reasonably well," Grady replied to her first question.  "Everyone did their part as well as could be expected it seems."

"Fucking pyurgist," he grumbled in response to her next question.  "Didn't know they had one aboard.  Quick-thinking there with the sails, again.  You and Kisaki put a stop to what would otherwise have been a real shitshow.  'Course, you didn't go batty afterward unlike the wright.  Fucking pyurgists," he repeated as he picked up his cigar off the tray and stubbed it out subconsciously.  Boarding any ship was of course dangerous - men fell from boarding ladders, or got shot or stabbed.  Hell, he'd seen one unlucky man take all three.  But if he'd known there was going to be a fireater aboard he would have gone about it all differently.  Ah, fucking hindsight.

"Drink?" he asked as he stood with a wince, and made his way to the sideboard, all the bottles and glasses latched in padded straps in the oaken cupboard.  After any mission like this, where you killed, fought for your own life and came through it unscathed, while some of your comrades weren't as lucky... well in the Sorrowars he'd learned to cope with that by getting back to town and drinking and ploughing the night away.  The latter would have to wait for Havenstad, but the former he could get a jump on now.  Grabbing two tumblers in one hand and a bottle of burnwine in the other - hoping Goldenwood would approve of his choice - Grady headed back to the table and poured two stiff drinks.  The burnt amber liquid, made from distilled wine aged in heavy char, reflected back the wardroom's dull light and seemed even to enhance it.  Grady clinked his glass against the other in a toast, swirled his around and swallowed it in one gulp before sitting back down with a long contented sigh.  He poured another healthy belt, and held it swirling while loosening the v-neck lacing of his shirt with his other hand.

"You ever been on a ship on fire?" he asked somberly, staring contemplatively at the contents of his swirling tumbler before looking over at Elara.