[ it takes him aback, how quickly she arrives at the root of it. existing in a world where everyone looks out for their own interests can be lonely. the most difficult thing for cassidy to adjust to in eudio, more than the communicators or electricity or indoor plumbing, was not always having to look over his shoulder. he still sleeps with a knife under his pillow, but not once has he had to use it.
he could argue that he's not lonely, that he's surrounded by people at sea, and on land he hardly ever spends a night alone, but the words never make it to his lips. he has a loyal crew, but he would only count a few among them as true friends. as for the rest, their loyalty only lasts while they see cassidy as surest way to get what they want. his smiles thinly. ]
Well, Miss Morton, trust that you'll be the first person I tell, should I chance upon the answer.
[ but his smile grows more genuine a moment later. ] At any rate, you always was a sensible creature.
[ at her laughter, his expression brightens further. gone are any shadows of a moment ago. if she spends enough time with him, she might discover he lied about the pendant. it's actually the only one of his accessories he didn't steal. he almost never removes it, and he holds it between his fingers from time to time. when he's alone, he pries the locket apart with the tip of his knife and looks at what's inside — a small coil of dark hair on one side, and on the other a coil of sandy-blonde hair, a shade off from his own, that belonged to a girl he once knew. but, for tonight at least, cassidy would much rather make roxy laugh at his antics than pity him for his losses. ]
Very well. Drop your anchor, I'll not be gone a minute. [ he gets up from the table and weaves back towards the bar.
it's more than a minute, of course, probably closer to five or six, by the time he returns with two old fashioned glasses of some orangeish drink. as he sinks into his seat, he pushes one towards her. ]
This here be one of the most pleasing mixtures you're like to get at sea. We call it bumbo, though I reckon the sort they make here is better suited to landlubbers such as yourself. [ with a cheeky grin, he raises his glass to knock against hers. ]
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he could argue that he's not lonely, that he's surrounded by people at sea, and on land he hardly ever spends a night alone, but the words never make it to his lips. he has a loyal crew, but he would only count a few among them as true friends. as for the rest, their loyalty only lasts while they see cassidy as surest way to get what they want. his smiles thinly. ]
Well, Miss Morton, trust that you'll be the first person I tell, should I chance upon the answer.
[ but his smile grows more genuine a moment later. ] At any rate, you always was a sensible creature.
[ at her laughter, his expression brightens further. gone are any shadows of a moment ago. if she spends enough time with him, she might discover he lied about the pendant. it's actually the only one of his accessories he didn't steal. he almost never removes it, and he holds it between his fingers from time to time. when he's alone, he pries the locket apart with the tip of his knife and looks at what's inside — a small coil of dark hair on one side, and on the other a coil of sandy-blonde hair, a shade off from his own, that belonged to a girl he once knew. but, for tonight at least, cassidy would much rather make roxy laugh at his antics than pity him for his losses. ]
Very well. Drop your anchor, I'll not be gone a minute. [ he gets up from the table and weaves back towards the bar.
it's more than a minute, of course, probably closer to five or six, by the time he returns with two old fashioned glasses of some orangeish drink. as he sinks into his seat, he pushes one towards her. ]
This here be one of the most pleasing mixtures you're like to get at sea. We call it bumbo, though I reckon the sort they make here is better suited to landlubbers such as yourself. [ with a cheeky grin, he raises his glass to knock against hers. ]