The pier of Haverton, otherwise known as the Haverton Pier, was a bustling shopping center, akin to a Vienda street. The blue-green waves crashed along the poles keeping the giant pier from falling into the Austan. Leon stood watching these waves, he didn't need to hawk what he was selling, he put up a sign, that even the most illiterate wick could understand. He drew his cart, with an envelope underneath. It was simple, but it got the message across.

Leon had finally been getting noticed around the harbor and was getting jobs again, the didn't pay as well as the ones he took when he was nomadic, but they fed and clothed him. The jobs also fed his pets, Lester and Wrinkles. Lester was his dimwitted Kenser and Wrinkles was his even more dimwitted Yoffel, Leon attracted dimwits, no matter the species.

The sun was at it's highest point in the sky, Leon had about another four hours before the pier started to die down. He decided to finally make contact with the people passing by and hawk his services. He turned to the bustling crowd and shouted.

"Hey, anyone need a messenger?" Leon's voice was strained, he needed to be heard above all the noise of the pier. "I deliver your letters and packages with care, no one will know what's inside!" Leon saw a lowly human woman. "Hey, you! You look like you have a brother that wants to know how you are doing!" She just kept walking. He needed to work on his bedside manner, It was a bit rusty.

Contrary to her foster father's beliefs, Molly was quite capable of conducting herself in public without raising hell or causing the usual ruckus that seems to abound around the pirate-tess most days. In fact, she was sure he would be surprised at how well she could blend into the background, unseen in plain sight in the midst of the natural chaos of the daytime pier. She was a pirate, after all, and a good one at that; she may play the fool more often than not, but one didn't last as long as she had on the open sea's without good sense in her head.

Which was part of the reason she was back out here at the pier again, as it was. The crew was settling in rather nicely, as well as can be assumed anyway, but even so, Molly had deemed it prudent to remove herself from the situation for a bit... Grisha's hands were itching for his wrenches a bit too much for even her sense of self preservation.

So the old man could hold down the crew for a bit while she got herself some fresh air. She never liked being cooped up in one place much anyhow...

The pier was as loud and as lively as always, the crisp clean tang of the salty sea blowing though the heavy overcast air with the promise of coming rain mingling with its heady sent. She had found herself a perch on top of one of the docking poles and had set herself up in a prime spot to observe both crowd and sea as she should desire. In fact, she peered down the pole to make sure... And it was indeed the same pole she had tacked her recruitment poster to, the heavy parchment flapping unsightly in the breeze.

Her eye was then caught by a sight that both incurred a grin of amusement and calculated interest. A man with a cart, a wick from the looks of him, trying to hawk his services with minimal luck. Obviously not a 'Rose native, she chuckled at his strained attempts to reel in the customers, shaking her head at the wicks bumbling. If that was the best he could do he was not going to last very long at all in the Harbor city, it was a hard enough place for the best of them. But though the grin was for the man, the narrowing of her scarred eye was for the cart.

Her crew would need a cart eventually, once Grisha got the bits and pieces in a well enough of a working order to be hauled back to the launching barge and attached as a whole ship once more. She'd just assumed she was going to have to buy one herself or appropriate one when the need finally arose... But...

Without a second thought, Molly lightly jumped down from the post and sauntered over to the odd two-toned wick's kint.

“Ifin tha's the best ya kin do, ya may wanta think of movin yer ship ta soom otha port, savy?” Molly said as she sidled up to the man from behind, standing next to him like she had been there the whole time. She crossed her arms and looked down the way the last disinterested customer had vanished down before darting an amused look up at the wick.

Clocks, he was taller than her.