[center][img]https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/firefly/images/f/fe/EavesdownDocks-SerenityEp.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/1000?cb=20081008211513[/img][/center] [sub]Collaboration with [@sail3695][/sub] The ramp had been lowered to allow for the offloading of personnel and equipment when necessary. Hook sat on a crate smoking a cigar earlier in the day, but returned to the interior of the [i]China Doll[/i] to use the head. He didn’t throw the wrapped tobacco away, he merely snuffed it out, so as to not leave a cloud of smoke in the cargo bay area. When he returned to the cargo bay, he planned to light the cigar back up, but found two men who allowed themselves to step into the Doll, [i]“Thomas Jinks...here to pick up crates from Seatronics,”[/i] one of the men looked down at a clipboard. [i]“I’m supposed to see Abby Travis?”[/i] Joe Hooker hit the bottom steps and approached, “Hey there, gentlemen, Ima Joe Hooker. Miss Travis is indisposed right now. Mebee I ken hep you?” “Mr. Hooker,” the young man offered his hand. “Welcome to New Melbourne. I got a lotta customers waitin’ on those crates right over there,” he pointed toward the distinctive blue of the Seatronics cargo. “Here’s what they sent us from Persephone,” he said as the clipboard exchanged hands. Joe eyeballed the two young men, sized them up in case they started anything. It was something he had grown accustomed to, unsure about someone, you never knew where a relationship would take you. He always wanted to be ready for anything. Joe walked over to the side of the bay, a desk of sorts where some papers were maintained. He found the manifest complete with a bill of lading on the Seatroncs crates. Joe pulled them out and looked the papers over. He compared that with the papers on the clipboard, the boy named Tom Jinks handed him. “Could yous boys tell me your names?” Tom stepped forward. “I’m Thomas Jinks. Clevis Jinks is my dad...you might have his name,” he offered. “He’s preppin’ our boat for the season start in a couple days. Sent me by to pick everything up. I got Ident,” the youngest Jinks fished in his pocket, “if you need.” “Sho. Let me look,” Joe requested of the young man. “I do see Clevis on this here manifest.” The young man nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Dad runs the business…” “...when he’s not out catchin’ his own haul,” Jerome quipped. “Why he had four kids,” Tom chuckled. “Somebody’s gotta run the register….sorry,” he said to the deckhand. We good to load?” “Yes suh,” Joe responded. “Jes sign this here,” Joe pointed to a line at the bottom of the shipping papers. “Fo’ our records.” Tom accepted the clipboard and the offered pen. “Sure thing.” As he laid his signature and the date down, he offered, “hope you guys have a layover planned. This town lives for King Tuna season. There’s tons goin’ on...both on and off the water.” “Sounds wonderful,” Joe smiled. “I do like me some fishin’. I may go out at some time while we’s here on New Melbourne. Ahm thinkin’ a doin’ some lake fishin’ tho. You all charter lake fishin’? Or jus the open sea?” “I know some guys who run the lakes just north of town,” Jinks replied. “They’ll give you the choice of a boat charter with a guide who knows the good spots, or they’ll turn you loose with a skiff and fresh water tackle.” He pulled a business card, and set to scribbling information onto its’ back. “This guy...Aldrich? He’s sorta nuts, but if his charters can stand him they come home with plenty of fish.” Jerome had gone back to the lorry. He returned, wheeling a pair of hand trucks. As the two men talked, he slipped the first crate onto his dolly and moved toward the company truck. Joe, always aware of his surroundings, allowed a side glance at the young man wheeling the crates onto his vehicle. He didn’t want him taking one too many crates. He looked at the young man offering the card. “Thanks, Tom. I will look up...Aldrich then.” He looked at the card for a bit as if he could glean more information than what was printed upon it. “Does he rent fishin’ equipment too?” “Wouldn’t know,” the younger man shook his head. “Tell you what, though. If you’re lookin’ to fish off a bridge or a pier, we got some small salt rigs that’ll work fine in fresh. Come on by an’ have a look. We’re on the foot of Palafox street, right at the docks.” He smiled. “I’ll cutcha a break on a couple rods for you an’ anybody else goin’ with you.” “Sounds good, Tom,” Joe smiled at the young man. “You can call me Hook. That’s my nickname.” “Nickname like that,” Tom chuckled, “gotta mean good luck with a fishin’ rod.” Hook laughed at that comment. “You should ask Tom his nickname!” Jerome volunteered as he scooped up another blue crate. “I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Jinks grinned, “but I do know whose name is on your paycheck!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Not yours!” came the reply. “Guess that means I should show that guy I actually can do a little work,” he quipped. “No worries, Tom,” Joe responded to the young man. “You and your friend, have a good day.” With both hand trucks working, the two young men quickly had all of their cargo loaded. Soon, the loading tools joined the crates in the back as Tom and Jerome slipped the stakesides back into place. “We’re open at seven in the mornin’!’ Tom called out as he turned toward the cab. “See ya soon, HooK!” “Take care, boys!” Joe Hooker waved as the two men drove away. The truck pulled out, wheels cutting hard as it began the trip back to the Outfitters. ‘That Hook,” Jerome observed. “Nice guy. Gonna take care of him?” “Sure,” Tom passed a nod. “We got the right rig for what he wants.” “You’re sorta quiet all of a sudden.” “Oh, nothin’,” he shrugged. “Just thinkin’ about what I have to do next.” She hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t seen her. [i]Guess I’m watching the docks for a day or two,[/i] Tom thought to himself.