Rohaan flinched a little at the rum in his cut, but uncharacteristically less than usual. Normally, he howled and complained every time, but he seemed to either not be in a complaining mood, or the stinging pain helped release some of his anger. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, he did not seem inclined to discuss the happenings on the top deck or exactly why he had a clean slit in the back of his hand. The lad was quietly grateful Pieter didn't press him. The old man usually didn't, and Rohaan liked him for it. The shifter hoisted himself up onto a lidded barrel and perched there as comfortably as though he were another sack of flour, legs crossed underneath him. He didn't answer Pieter's offer with words, though he held out his hand to take the wedge of lime and popped it in his mouth. Rohaan [I]loved[/I] limes. He involuntarily squinted a little as the sourness hit him, and then he proffered a small shortbread biscuit to Pieter in exchange. It wasn't clear exactly when or where he'd gotten that, or how many he had in his shirt pocket, but Rohaan often had a penchant for mysteriously obtaining items without explanation or witness. 

It took a while, but eventually Rohaan said through his lime wedge, "Shhmelsh nish." Just as he had a way of [I]procuring[/i] things, he had an equally unfailing tendency to be wherever the food was. 

--

Well, at least Berlin didn't have to worry about trusting this lot. If their captain was willing to put up with [I]that[/I]...display? Ritual? He wasn't sure what to call it--and also was willing to repeat the gesture in good faith, then he figured they had no intention of crossing them without some good reason. Good. It seemed like they'd need all the allies they could get.

Berlin felt physically struck at the word [I]refinery[/I], and even Uban's plucking stuttered for a moment. He thought back to the angry, burned-out husk of a fishing town they'd come through and his blood boiled. It was difficult to drive Berlin to [I]crave[/I] violence, but that was enough. He tried not to, but he looked visibly angry, his face turning just a shade more red and his hands held at his sides in tight fists. His eyes looked out at the horizon as though he could see his foe through some means of magic. "Damn....[I]damn[/I] that's worse than I thought." He released a pent up breath. "Well, the [I]Borealis[/I] is a fast ship, but...I don't trust the winds any more than I do the cold waves, and even then, I'm not sure how we'd stack up compared to........[I]arms."[/I] Berlin rubbed his bristled chin, studying the [I]Swift[/I]. "I wonder...I wonder with those numbers if it would be best not to come right out with a frontal assault--not right away. What if, instead, we lay slow, painful siege to their fleet with a vanguard and weaken them for our arrival? Because if we can get above them, Uban here has developed a special talent with Hana's help that allows him to more or less drop explosives. You have a better idea of where they are than we do, and if the two of you could get out to them faster than either of our vessels, and remain unseen, it could do some serious damage." He glanced down at the stairs that led belowdecks. "If I can convince the lad to allow you on his back, a cyradan would be faster than any ship I've ever known....just a thought." Berlin wasn't sure how he felt about forcing Rohaan and any member of this crew together so quickly, nor did he know how Kaga-Met felt about either himself or one of his crew riding at the mercy of a shapeshifter, but it was worth suggesting anyway.

--

Uban's song was interrupted by a quick dischordant [I]twang[/I] as Hana grabbed his arm and his hand fumbled the note. Despite his surprise, he simply looked at her with the same easy gaze he always wore and shrugged. "I dunno...Fight, I guess. Like we always do. Maybe a little more cautiously than usual, more strategy y'know, but..." Another shrug. "I don't see what else we'd do. I mean it'd be a crime against nature to let 'em go, and we're better equipped than any naval ship to tackle this lot." He blinked at her, studying the terror in her expression. "Why? What's got you all tied up in knots?"