Berlin never once hesitated to follow her directions. He was a man with little to lose, but Rohaan was one of them. In two years, he'd put so much work into that boy, suffering through bites and scratches, wrestling matches, and on multiple occasions incidents involving a bathtub and the boy changing into an octopus and clinging to Berlin's arm. Berlin didn't know back then what he'd been through but he guessed it was a poor lot in life. Without being able to speak the same language for months, he'd saddled himself with a reactive, nearly feral, terrified, and spirited shapeshifter. Many times he questioned his own wisdom on this. He debated letting the boy go, sending him off into the blue, but he knew that wouldn't be right and it wasn't what he needed. He needed a kind hand and a place to belong. When he was about to give up on him, the boy had come into the captain's quarters one quiet evening and taken an interest in the book he was reading. Rohaan could not read (he still struggled, but was learning) but he watched the man turn the pages anyway, page after page, until the boy had slumped over and fallen asleep against Berlin. He had [I]never[/I] done that. Rohaan always found some dark corner to sleep in, or the crow's nest--anywhere he was alone. But that night, Berlin knew with certainty that he'd gotten through to him and that he loved that boy with his heart and soul. He could scarcely imagine losing him now. The woman coolly went about her business despite knowing what Rohaan was, and in what felt like a blink of an eye, the boy was healed. He'd whimpered and writhed a little, but then he settled down and was silent except the soft inhale and exhale of his even breath. Berlin felt a wash of relief; he'd been holding more tension than he thought. While the woman began to make tea, Berlin knelt beside the boy and mopped his damp face with a cool cloth. "Tena osaio je'ola da'ai, kikana," ((you aren't getting away from me that easy, boy)) he whispered, then wrapped him back up in his black cloak like a linen cocoon. Berlin smiled at her as she returned. "Hanabaptiste? I'm Captain Berlin of the Borealis. This here is Rheo--er, Roh--well, to you, Rio. Cultural thing," he explained. "I might have lost him without you. He's my...well, I never did have a son. But him...he's the closest thing I've got. I'm in your debt. Not many people would help him, considering...They aren't demons, you know. Vokurians--that's what they're called. This one's wild, sure, but he's had a hard lot in life that made him this way. Speaking of...er...if he comes to, let me talk to him first before you approach him. Lad doesn't do well with strangers, see." Berlin reached for the cup of tea with one hand, but with the other, he laid down copper coin on the table as payment. She'd done more than she was obligated to and he'd be damned if he was ungrateful. He would see to it she was not put out by them as much as he could. He watched her, studying her with his storm gray eyes. Now that his mind was freed from his worry, he couldn't help but notice how odd the situation was. He'd never seen any one perform magic like that, and he could tell she was not a local. "Forgive me if I'm intruding..." For a pirate, Berlin was mighty polite. If he'd been in a naval officers uniform, he could pass for one more often than not. "But would it be alright if we spent the night? If not, that's alright. My crew will have found a place to stay by now...and...secondly, if you don't mind my asking, what brings a lass like you to a place like this? Telor's a rathole. And you don't seem like a rat." Still, his eyes watched her, but they were not unkind or harsh. They had a glimmer to them. Grey, but with a light to be seen like a ray of sunlight haloing clouds after a storm. ----- Uban threw open the door to the tavern--The Rusty Nail--like he'd just come home. Pipesmoke, sweat, and spirits flooded his nostrils. "Ain't nothin' like it, is there Wheel? Hmph, and not a musician in the place! I'll fix that. Come! I'll see if I can get us some free drinks, eh?" He nearly skipped inside, plunking himself down at the hearth like it had his name on it, and he took his lute from off his shoulder. He made no announcement--he never did, just began to tune it softly and strike a few experimental cords. Sure enough, a few heads turned and watched him, pausing their conversations to listen. And then he began to sing in a loud but true voice: [I]"When I was a lad in a fishing town me old man said to me you can spend your life, your jolly life just sailin' on the sea! You can search the world for pretty girls till your eyes are weak and dim, but don't go searching for a mermaid, son if you don't know how to swim. I signed onto a sailing ship My very first day at sea I saw a Mermaid in the waves a-reaching out to me Come live with me in the sea, said she down at the bottom of the sea And I'll show you a million wondrous things you never seen before Oh her hair was green as seaweed her skin was blue and pale her face it was a work of art I loved that girl with all my heart but I only liked the upper part I did not like the tail. So over I jumped and she pulled me down down to her seaweed bed and a pillow made of a tortoise shell she placed beneath my head she fed me shrimp and caviar from a silver dish. From her head to her waist it was just my taste! But the rest of her...was a fish. Yes her hair was green as seaweed her skin was blue and pale her face it was a work of art I loved that girl with all my heart but I only liked the upper part I did not like the tail. Then one day she swam away So I sang to the clams and the whales Oh how I miss her seaweed hair and the silver shine of her scales! But then her sister, she swam by and set my heart a whirl... CAUSE HER UPPER PART WAS AN UGLY FISH BUT THE REST OF HER WAS A GIRL! Yes her hair was green as seaweed her skin was blue and pale her legs they are a work of art I loved that girl with all my heart and I don't give a damn 'bout the upper part 'cause that's how I get my tail!"[/I] Uban had people clapping along and roaring with cheers and laughter at his song, which was delightfully bawdy and befitting of his audience. "Thank you, thank you. Now this singin' makes me thirsty...whiskey for the shanty man, eh?" And like they usually did, people did in fact buy him booze, which he accepted with a big grin, passing a helping of whiskey to Wheel and patting him on the arm. "There ya go bud. The first of many," he said with a shit-eating grin.