Daniel emerged on the poop deck, the ever constant salt infused wind pulling his hair every witch way. Using one hand he pulled some of it back out of the way so that he could see where he was stepping. How ladies tolerated their locks was a mystery to him, his own seemed like it needed a trimming. He wondered when the captain would be up, so he could use his strip of leather for his hair again. As he was moving along the poop deck towards the Avery's quarters, he saw a reflection of red through the tangled bits of his own hair. It was damn near impossible to miss her when the rest of the crew had black or brown hair if any. 

There was a brief struggle in his mind as to what to say to the woman. Should he ask for an explanation? Should he just hand over the piece that was apparently very valuable and deadly? Other suggestions of what and how crossed his mind. Reaching the bottom of the steps while she seamed to still be dancing away from the quartermaster he called up to her. 

[b]"Cap'n."[/b] he said. Remaining rather ridged and expressionless.