Uban had opened his mouth to say something but the intake of air stuck in his throat when she bowed and excused herself. Watching her go, he let loose the breath in an exasperated sigh. Rolling over, he looked at Rohaan. "NOW look what you've done. You can't go fly off the handle like that, Rohaan. C'mon." 
The boy was indignant and though he kept his volume low, his pitch went up a bit. "But she was rude first!"
"She didn't know! She never had nobody explain it to her, not proper. Now you went and made her nervous--you do that to people you know. You can be a scary little shit sometimes." 
Rohaan folded his arms, glowering. "Good." 
"No, it ain't." Uban's tone was firm, but cool and calm. He had learned long ago that escalating with Rohaan never led anywhere productive and could outright be dangerous. "She's probably heard all kinds of stories--just like we all did--about how vokurians are demons." 
"But I'm not a demon!" Rohaan demanded, a tiny, tiny note of desperation in his voice, as if he had to convince Uban. "I'm a person..." 
Uban softened. "I know. We all know that because we know you. And she wants to believe that too, I know it. But when you snap all the time," he made a biting motion with his hand, repeatedly striking Rohaan's arm with it to illustrate his point, "It makes it really hard for people to see that. Right?" 

Rohaan was silent, musing over what exactly he wanted to say. His lack of clarity in this frustrated him. Finally he spat, "But I don't trust her." 
Uban nodded knowingly. "I understand. You don't have to, and no one will make you. But you gotta give her a chance. You didn't trust me either, did you?"
"...No..." 
"And Berlin trusts her. I trust her. She saved your life. Doesn't that count for something?"
It did. But Rohaan wasn't ready to admit it out loud. "I don't want to get hurt." 

Uban blinked at him for a moment. Emotional honesty was not a strength of Rohaan's, and on the few occasions it did happen, it usually only scratched the surface of what was happening in the boy's head. What was it like, he thought, to be so widely hated and despised? To be so fearful for his own life and safety so often? "She wouldn't hurt you, Rohaan."
"She said she was gonna light Wheel on fire..." 
Uban tried not to but he couldn't help laughing. "Really now? Huh...I'd like to see that," he said, knowing fire would probably do little to Wheel except irritate him. 
Rohaan waved a hand. "Well Wheel is...different, he can do that kinda thing. What--" Rohaan let out a defeated breath, took a moment, then started again. "What if she lit me on fire? Would she?"

Uban stared. Another rare moment of clarity, and a tough question. Not that the answer was tough to give, but it was an ugly thing to try and wrestle with all the same. That was how the boy thought. Day in. Day out. But Uban began to understand. He'd overheard something that bothered him, something that scared him, and his way of coping was to lash out. The man shook his head. "Stars above, Rohaan...no, she wouldn't do that. She's one of us now. And we look after our own." 

That quieted the boy. He didn't say anything else, just leaned back in the hammock and quietly sorted through what Uban had said.  It was nearly half an hour of this silence before Rohaan said softly, "Uban?"
The man had been half asleep but at the sound of his name he forced one eye open, raising his eyebrows as if lifting them would drag his eyelids open too. "Mmm?"
"Can you help me with something?" Rohaan explained his thoughts to Uban, who did indeed help the boy. It took some time and diligent effort, but soon Rohaan slid off the hammock and padded over to Hana's door, sliding something under it before climbing back up into the hammock beside Uban.  It was a little piece of parchment. Written on it in the wobbliest, most rudimentary penmanship was one single misspelled word. 

[I]Sory[/I]

--

The next morning held sunshine and a healthy wind that made all of them feel a sense of momentum and vigor. It wasn't just the motion of the ship cutting merrily through the waves, but a feeling like things were going to happen that day, and like they were getting closer to their goal. Their mission felt more real, more imminent instead of a far off ideal they hoped to someday reach.  This battle would happen, and thanks to the turtle's heading, it would be sooner rather than later.