[u][b]Steve Miller - The Last Plank[/b][/u]

"Where were...ahem.  Something about a plan.  To defend the island."  Corrine said slowly, as she doodled in the water droplets between their drinks.  "You said somethin' about wantin' to help, right?  Have you been up on the hull?  Let's...take a walk, after this drink."

"Corrine's moonlighting as a tour guide these days," drawled one of the harborfolk from behind her yet again, clunking his empty beer bottle onto the bar and waving for another.

"[censored] right," Corrine retorted.  "I don't mind showin' [i]you[/i] where to go, if you catch my meaning, Errick."

Errick chuckled, took his beer, and walked off.  After shooting a baleful look in the direction of the local man, Corrine turned back to him.

"What do you say?", she asked earnestly.

Steve wasn't sure at this point what exactly her intent was, to show him the situation this town faced first hand, or something else entirely...and from the talk he had heard from the stairs coming down and this Errick fellow's remarks everybody in the place had picked up on her interest in him...but he did know there was only one way he was going to find out. 

"Sounds like a great idea", Steve replied, working on his beer to keep up with Corrine's progress on her whisky. "I'm ready to go when you are."

When Corrine rose to leave, Steve got up and followed her out, grabbing the door and holding it open for her as she walked out, then let it close behind him as he left. 

"Downside of small towns", Steve said as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the bar behind him, "folks like to get into everyone else's business." He shrugged. "Just like my old home in Rivet City. Anyhow, you mentioned something called "The Hull", what's that?"