There would be other ships. There always were, especially in places like Melin. One of those might take him, but it might not. It could be days before a new vessel docked in, weeks even, and it was never a certainty he'd make it onboard. Now, the offer was there in front of him, and the money was but a boon he could live without. At least, for the time being.

"I'll take the job," he said, and stepped aside to let the woman storm past him. Her words, the way her fingers strayed so close to her blade, it all had put him on edge. He'd seen men keel-hauled for less---dragged by their ankles with ropes, across the scorching wasteland, to be flayed by sand and rock---and he hadn't the measure of this Captain Oliver. Not yet. "I'll be happy to get some shut-eye, Captain. It's been a strange afternoon."

Swindled on the first day, what a bitter thought. He tucked his contracts back into his belt, and only then realized his palms were lightly coated in sweat. He tried not to let it show, but the threat of violence hung heavy on his nerves, and all on account of the same person. That woman meant trouble. If only for herself, or all of them, only time would tell.