[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/NYrpWli.png[/img]
[@Silvan Haven][@Crimmy][@Write][@Plank Sinatra][/center]

And so, that was that. 

The conversation, decisively, had ended. It was clear that there was nothing more that could really be said between us, so Gratia did the right thing and broke it off there. Her headphones were back in their usage spot, and were no doubt filling her ears with her own tastes in jazz. Benson, Sade, Armstrong.

People like that.

Not Cruel Angel's Thesis. But, fittingly, it all returned to nothing.

Silence once again. I had a pretty good run going, though, if I had to say so myself. While I'm always rambling on about how terrible I am at everything, even I had to admit that I was on a pretty god run there, compared to previous performances. I'd even managed to glean some knowledge about what she liked, from a girl I was halfway suspicious didn't like anything.

I could even claim two things that she liked I knew about through that conversation.

Jazz and money.

...She should be pretty happy with the cruise then, right?

Well, maybe not. We were more just [i]witnessing[/i] money instead of [i]having[/i] it...

Maybe the jazz she liked would pop up a lot, though!

[b]"...I should go to bed."[/b]

It was the first thing that came to mouth, after being the only thing that really came to mind. I said it under my breath in a mutter to myself, so it wasn't like I expected anyone else to hear it.

Certainly not the stony—no, glacial woman to my right. Our conversation, like I said, was definitely over.

Also, again, headphones.

All it took was a gentle push of my arms off of the railing, and before I knew it I was walking down the stairs and headed back to the room.

Albeit with one stop on the way, near a certain cute submarine. It's like this was Kancolle.

[b]"So, does this count as taking you to the pool?"[/b]

After getting so serious with the embodiment of seriousness, I found myself in a quipping mood. If Beryl was willing to put up with me, she was a real saint.