Jasper was at the shop early and he was pacing. Today seemed like it'd be a pretty average day. Shook was already in, watching his employee walk back and forth nervously.

"Ye seem uneasy." The old man said to the young one.

"Bleedin' 'ava 'asn't shown up yet, fockin' right I'm uneasy. T'days th'day."


Jasper's right eye was mottled and purple. His index finger was in a splint and it looked like he'd gotten a nasty scrape near his scalp. Shook had done his best with the injuries, and they'd probably heal well, but the fact of the matter was that Jasper looked terrible. The goop Shook had prepared only made the injuries seem more ghastly.

He looked like he might fall over at any moment. Parrot was nowhere to be seen.

Jasper coughed and wiped his hands off on his pants without showing Shook. Didn't want to give the old man another thing to worry about, no he didn't.

There was no tentative knock or cautious ease of the door to announce him this morning. It was shouldered open unceremoniously, all creaking hinges and squeaking boots. Havek shuffled in from the morning's grey wet looking heavily weighted. Broad shoulders stooped, feet dragging. Even the ever-present specter of his ugly satchel looked heavier this morning.

His slight weight slammed the door closed, whole body easing back onto it like a slow, aching sandbag. He drew his chin up from his chest to face them, bony fingers raking through soaking hair in the uneasy gesture young men the world over seemed to know. His golden eye, dimmer than ever, swiveled over the two of them, lingering on Jasper for a moment longer. His gaze skipped over the other man's injuries, astringent yet pensive, the same cold eye he'd given so many men so many times over. Someone else might have asked, 'what the feck happened--?', but not Havek, never Havek. He didn't understand completely, but he knew enough to guess. That placid mask was lowered somewhat in his weariness, and a sigh hissed through his teeth.

Perhaps they – that godsdamn ominous 'they' – had come to collect Jasper's throat early.

He searched his chest for a stirring of sympathy, but found nothing. He wished he had. It seemed like something a better man might have felt for this--his gaze dragged over Jasper again--boy. This reedy, nasty, tow-headed boy. Havek's lips twitched into a ghost of a frown.

“Sana...” he paused, hesitant, fingers all flecked with fresh little scabs interlaced at his chest. The gesture could have almost looked reverent. “Sana'hulali.” It was muttered flat as it always was, no conviction. Havek had learned sometime ago that the great god was none too sweet on blessing anything of his. But he'd never once thought not to ask.

"Yeah sure. Sana whatever." Jasper spat and grabbed Havek's arm. He may have twitched his hand at Shook in a gesture of goodbye, because before long they were out of the door.

"Ready for your big date, are ye?" Jasper said through a forced smile as he half led, half dragged Havek farther and farther away from the shops. The man was limping a little, but his quick pace disguised that.

"Jest be frien'ly. She'll talk yer 'ead off. I gotter t'meet me by th'docks so ye shouldn't have any trouble..."

For awhile. A bead of sweat crawled down Jasper's face. It could have been from the muggy heat in the air that seemed to crowd in close to the pair. The sky was dark with clouds and low rumbles of thunder made their way across the sky.

The sea came into view quickly. It was grey and massive, as usual. There were less people on the docks because of the incoming storm. In the distance, flashes of lightning made the sea shine silver in strange unintelligible patterns.

Havek let himself be dragged.

“Oh. Right. That.” He mumbled, all bleary.

The last night had been much too long. He’d been too preoccupied with his recent discovery in the back of the apothecary to dwell much on his arranged ‘date’ with some toothy wonder, much to his two hours of fitful sleep’s chagrin.

When the young man finally stopped, Havek squirmed out of Jasper’s grasp – he hated being touched, but didn’t have the will to protest. So he just drew his spindly limbs deep in his coat, huddling away from the light rain. Cold and quiet and weary, he shuffled away, tiptoeing across the rotten planks as if he thought they’d crumble beneath his feet. He eyed the lightning on the horizon, squinting out across the water with a questioning glower. He had a lot of nothing to say

He was trying to listen to the sea, as if his endless hissing could shed some light on the situation. But just tides, just wind, just crying birds. Sleeplessness made him superstitious.

Why had he agreed to this, again? Oh, right – so no poor girls would get smashed, or stabbed, or whatever else dirty Harbour boys fancied doing to them. His gaze flickered over the few people out and about on this wet Loshis morn, pondering which could be her.

If she found him revolting, well – spending an awkward hour or two with him wasn’t half as bad as getting shanked. So he liked to think.

The air clung to Havek like another blanket. It seemed impossibly hot, and the air was heavy and still. It made everything harder to hear. The sounds around were all muffled. It made both of them feel quite deaf.

And by the docks there was a lone figure looking out into the sea. Her black hair was whipping about and slim gloved hands reached back to tie it in a ribbon.

Jasper whistled and the figure turned.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, in a human way. She was no delicate galdori beauty-- her clothes weren't as finely made, and her demeanor didn't suggest boredom and aloofness.

Havek might have seen a fleeting look of disappointment settle on her face when she looked him over, but it was soon replaced with a very lonely, insecure, desperate smile. It trembled and held.

"Jasper, I was afraid you wouldn't show up... not with how things turned out th'last--"

The rest of her sentence was lost because Jasper laughed loudly and nervously.

"Enough talk o'th'past Naomi. This here's Hava. He's a good bloke, even if he don't look his best. Jest the Harbour doin' its work." Jasper looked anxiously at the pair and smiled.

"You don't look too well yourself..." Havek got the feeling that Naomi was trying to speak very carefully to avoid falling into Old Rose cant.

"Eh. Business. Nothin' bad about that. I'll er...I'll jest...I gotter..."

"Oh! Right!" Naomi had lived too long in Old Rose to blush, "Go on. We'll get on fine." She smiled the same smile from before at Havek.

If he’d been interested at all in what they were saying, it didn’t show. He’d just stood quietly, blinking down at the rotten planks beneath them. It didn’t feel like his place to say anything.

Real, living, right-in-front-of-him beauty was so different remembering beauty. It wasn’t nearly as important or affecting as, say, hawk-nosed witches who smelled like curry and tea. So he glanced over her the way one might regard a flower – just vaguely appreciative of the fact that it was pretty and it was there.

“Very...ah, very good to meet you, Miss Naomi.”

Havek tried to return that watery smile of hers. It was weak and close-lipped, but genuine. And it didn’t flicker way. It just lingered on the edge of those pierced lips like a haze, soft and inscrutable. He raised a hand as if to take hers, but he stopped himself. It hovered in the air for a few hesitant moments before sinking down slow. He settled for a low bow instead.

When he righted himself, the girl’s smile was still there. It looked so sad and uncertain, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He felt pressured to say something to her, anything at all.

“You...you look very presentable. Issa pity ya have to go ‘bout the Rose with someone like me, miss.” His soft voice was even softer in the oppressive air. He quickly averted his gaze from her and blinked down at one of his hands. It was a very dark skinned hand, a very Mugrobi hand. Compliments. Wasn’t he supposed to be good at those?

Privately, Naomi agreed. Never in the years of her life had she ever thought she'd be going out with a wick. But beggars can't be choosers. She quickly berated herself for the thought. It was unkind. Jasper was doing her a service, and this young man clearly didn't even want to be here. She couldn't blame him.

After all of those nasty rumors...the disappearances... but they hadn't had anything to do with her!! It was all bad luck.

"Not at all." She said worriedly, "It's-- It's quite a privilege. After everythin' that happened... all those people sayin'-- Well, it matters not. I'm glad some men still have the sack t'go after th'women what-- that catch their eye." Naomi smiled again.

Clearly Jasper had stretched the truth.

"Jasper surprised me when he said a friend o'his were-- was lookin' to take me out... It's... been awhile."

“Friend. R-right. We…ah. We work together,” he muttered.

His brow quirked, wrinkling around the ropy scar. He gave a quiet hiccup of a laugh, hazy smile quivering, Internally, he was more frustrated with Jasper than ever. He never got smitten over women in the first place -- he certainly didn't know how to pretend that he was.

At the mention of an eye, his hand strayed up reflexively to the resolutely hollow socket. He cocked his head, eye wide and openly speculative.

“What’cha mean ‘too long’? I don’t see why a pleasant little bird like yerself would have any trouble. Yer of marryin’ age, aren’t ya? Issa right shame to have a reputation proceed ya, poor miss.”

He wanted to inquire what that reputation could be, precisely. But his tongue was bitten, as always. He’d be better off not knowing. She seemed too gentle to be ill of virtue – which, to Havek, was the important thing. A woman with blood on her hands was somehow still more honorable than a woman with her hands on men (he never puzzled out how that worked moral wise).

“I…er…ya gots any place in par-tick-ya-lar ya wanna go, miss?”

"Well they're all just nasty rumors. I'm no demon." She murmured.

"Papa always took me to the Widow's Walk, but if it's a mite pricey..."She had noticed the state of his clothes.

"I mean, we can go somewhere else." Naomi tried not to look distressed. Anywhere else would smell horrible... "Besides, it mightn't be safe... it looks like a storm is brewin'."

She cleared her throat politely, "So you work with Jasper? That must be fun. He's very funny, isn't he?"

Havek’s dreary expression flickered back into its usual flat glower, for a moment. From curious to calculating.

“Nevah said ya was, miss. I jus’ pray ya don’t gimme no reason to.” He spoke slowly, eyeing her with a mix of caution and curiosity. He had not met many girls who talked like that. And the ones he had met were strange dock hags, superstition carved deep as the wrinkles rift on their cheeks.

“Right, though…the Widow is a bit, ah…” A bit of throat clearing that could have portended embarrassment. “…ea, yeah.” A quick shadow had darted across his expression her voice picked over ‘Daddy’. So she was of ill repute? Or…unnervingly child-like.

If not the Widow, the other prospects were grim. Certainly not the Dove – a mite off or otherwise, she was too soft for that. He could take her away to the Queen, but it was rife with gambling which was no good either. He wanted them to stay here. It was foolish, he knew, standing out waiting for a storm to break.

“We could always jus’…” he shuffled around her, past her, blinking out into the sea to watch the lightning flash on distant waves. His blood felt thick in his veins and it was making him nervous. “…stay out ‘ere for a bit longer, if it wouldn’t pain ya, miss. S’calmin’, don’t ya think?” He wouldn’t keep her out here for long – the storm looked as if it had been brewing all morning. That must explain the nerves. Slow storms always put him on a razor’s edge.

“…an’ I’m sure somebody finds ‘im funny.” The bland tone suggested that he didn’t happen to be that somebody. “No offense meant to ‘im, but I’m s’prised ya fond of ‘im, miss. He don’t treat women none to gently.”

"Oh. We can stay out here." Sophie said, leaning back against the fence comfortably. The breeze blew her hair into her face and she sighed.

"These ribbons're so useless."

'

"Oh he doesn't mean it. He's all hard exterior and soft interior." She said it with a lot of conviction. "He's helped me get t'know different people in Old Rose...'Course they're all not as gentlemanly as 'im-- him. Guess they din't like my looks or somethin', I never saw none of 'em again."

She didn't sound sarcastic when she spoke.

Havek clicked his tongue on the back of his teeth. It was a sound repeated by disappointed fathers the world over. He didn’t to believe that such a sour little bastard as Jasper could have a ‘gentle side’, that mysterious softness that only very silly girls could identify in very nasty boys. If he’d been a few years younger and hence eons more obnoxious, he might’ve given that an almighty eyeroll. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

“Don’t tell me yer sweet on him or somethin’, miss. This is a dirty place. Some boys’ hands are filthy. A thousand pardons, o’course.” He bobbed into a low bow. “Iss jus’ painful to see pure women get tangled up in impure things.” Then there was a floundering silence on his part for a few moments, eye straying out to the tumultuous waves, their frothy tongues flicking against the dock.

“An’ as fer them abandonin’ you fer lack o’ lookin’, miss, yer...yer...ah.” He paused, brows beetling in thought. “Loverly as an aioleander in spring. Right. N-no lecherousness meant.” There wasn’t much need to clarify, really. It was spoken flat, as if he’d heard it in some fussy poem and only remembered it on accident. From his turn of his voice to the tips of his toes, Havek must have seemed about as amorous as a cold fish.

“It musta been somethin’ else that spooked ‘em off.” And he was pondering what that something could be. Pretty girls -- especially pretty girls with teeth -- often had to swat away the men with stick in towns like these. He dragged a critical eye over her dress, spying for some trace of weaponry or bruise.

“I. Ah...iff’n yer hair is gettin’ too fussy, I kin...ah...braid it for ya?” he ventured, almost timidly, after a pocket of silence.

"Oh neh. He's not me type." She gave him a half-hearted smile, which matched his half-hearted compliment. "I've eh...ne're seen an aioleander. Th'names pretty though."



"Naught that I could see." Naomi murmured darkly. She always hoped-- hoped there would be a second meeting-- hoped someone would like her enough to call on her again...

"Perhaps it's me-- my negative outlook that's keepin' em away." She joked.



Naomi stared at him for awhile. "Don't mean t'be rude or nothin', but en't that sort of a girl's thing?" She tugged on her ribbon even as she said this, though, and her hair slipped out easily.

Havek gave a weak flicker of a smile at that, just a wink of broken teeth, before bowing his head low. “Aye, it is.” Chagrin fingers twined a thick dread. He meandered back over to her, slipping around behind, steps still toe-first and tentative.

“I had – have – two...” a pause, a twitch, “...daughters. Ent knee high to a cat. Too small to twine it up themselves. They're...they're both way out over there.” His dark hand curled and pointed out across the ocean. It indicated anything from the further shore to the thick storm clouds.

Not your daughters, he had to remind himself, but your sisters. If Ekua had been they're acting-mother, what was he but their father? Their real blood daddy had been rotting away in a bed, so it had been Havek who's hands they'd tugged at, chirruping 'jara, jara!', dragging him off to see a sea shell or a stray dog or some other wonder. They were small and he was big. That's all that had mattered. Ent knee high to a cat.

He hesitated before taking the girl's hair, keeping a respectable distance. She might just have to go wash her pretty head in vinegar if he touched it. Nonetheless, the other hand unfurled to accept the ribbon.

“They's jus' caught in a damn storm someplace,” he muttered – not sounding remorseful, simply pensive.

"What do you mean?" Naomi sounded rather shocked. "Are they alright? Your daughters?" His hands through her hair were awkward and she shifted nervously. This wasn't like the sort of date she'd imagined. First of all she hadn't thought Jasper would bring her someone so... dirt poor.

But I'm okay with that. She asserted to herself, twitching nervously under his hands.

“They're...I mean, it is...” he trailed off, brows knitting. The tips of his fingers raked furrows in her hair up to the nape of her neck, sectioning off the dark locks. It was so much sleeker than the girls had been, but the mechanics behind it were the same. He didn't like having his knuckles against her neck or standing near to her.

“They're in...Mugroba.” The last word was muttered with something like reverence. “They're fine. They're...they're all fine.” She may have noticed his voice had a slight edge, that his twining fingers tugged her scalp a bit harder than needed. But the steeliness was there in an instant, gone in a flash. He bit his lip, tasting brass and skin.

Don't think about them.
Don't think.
Don't.

Her skin was clean and her hair was soft and he didn't want to be standing this close to her, not at all.

Havek tied off the end of the braid in the ribbon -- a hard square knot, more practical than pretty. Meekly, he arranged it over her shoulder before slinking away again. His sleepy eye peered out beyond her again, across the ocean – he didn't have to wonder if he was just miles straight from the Mugrobi sand. He knew.

“Wha'...wha' about you, miss? Is yer dada still with you?” He shuffled to the edge of the dock, peering down into the water. A vague smile touched his lip. Perhaps he could swim to the farther shore.

Naomi ran her fingers alone her hair and smiled gratefully. "Thank you." She paused at his next question. Havek may have noticed a sudden movement in her hands. She made a face and leaned against the fence, looking out into the sea. Her head hurt.

"Yes...but he's mad..." Her face contorted painfully. "After my mother died he lost his mind... He's only begun t'let me go out recently. It's much better now than it were before."

Havek shook his head, then looked over his shoulder at the girl. “Mad, you say? Ea...you’d do right to stick close to him. Men bereft o’ love are delicate things. ‘m sure he only wants to keep you safe.”

Things were starting shift into place. So, the girl was like some silly old children’s story, too old for anyone to remember the truth of. A pretty something locked away from the world of men, or some other such tale. It was no wonder she was so lonely.

“Poor dollie. Tha’ Jasper boy havin’ the nerve to take ya away from ‘im for –“ he paused, twitched, looked away, “...ah...for somethin’ so small as...as a date.” The last word slid slow and awkward off his tongue, like old fish oil.

He remembered, then, that he was helping that little bastard rob this girl and her moony father blind. Or...something more sinister than rob? His hand drifted away into his satchel, fingertips nosing aside the headscarf cushioning the vial of morphine. The glass was smooth and warm. Havek had to reminded himself again that he didn’t want to know.

"I've not been out for a month, Hava." Naomi growled, a little angrily. "Don't think this date be such a small thing. I was hopin' we could enjoy ourselves. I could enjoy th'first time I been outta my house for a clockin' month."

She glared at him, still rpetty despite her angry. "So don't go all high and mighty on me. It en't nice. Now take me out to eat."

Havek cocked his head, peering down at the girl with the bland cast of someone viewing the anger of something small, like a little dog or a child. Bare its teeth hard as it could, it wasn’t coaxing much response. It would have to bite first.

“I told ya before,” quiet words, hands shifting nervous on the satchel strap, “I ent got the ging to be takin’ ya anywhere worth yer salt. ‘ere’s always the Dove, but it’s a right mess an’ much too callow for a –“ a brief pause – “nice thing like yerself, miss.”

His eye shifted from her slow, sliding back out over the waves. Storm a’coming. The sky was heavy with lightning and his skin was abristle. He should have just stayed asleep today.

“...an’ I ent bein’ high and mighty, miss. I’m jus’ sayin’ that yer all he’s got left. This be a miserable place, with no number of things a pretty thing could go an’ get ravaged by. I wouldn’ let my little girls go wanderin’ around a place like this neither,” he said softly, all beatific calm. A calm that while not intending condescension, could be so easily misconstrued.

They weren’t so little anymore – how old would those girl be now? Sixteen, seventeen? The statement still stood, though Naomi wasn’t exactly much of a ‘little girl’.

"Well I've lived here all my life and--" Naomi began. The rest of her words were drowned out by the roaring of the sky.

The air seemed tense, and then, as if it had been holding its breath, it released. The first drops of rain fell from the sky, like relief. Then, as if those few drops were a signal, the whole sky fell on them. The rain was coming down hard and fast, and already the water level at the docks was rising. Naomi suddenly noticed that not a soul could be seen where they were.

"We should get inside, somewhere!" She shouted over the noise of the rain. A flash of lighting closely followed by thunder seemed frighteningly close. "Anywhere with shelter-- even the black dove! This is bad weather!"

Havek barely blinked under the onslaught of rain. Protective fingers slid over his empty socket to protect it from the water (if only barely) and he squinted up towards the sky. Omens, omens the very Mugrobi pieces of him said. Something long strained and drawn out was finally breaking, like so many ropes stretched threadbare. The sailor in him said something, too – people died when ropes broke, when things ignored finally snapped. Something was wrong here.

The water was rising fast. For moment, one boot hovered off the dock, unthinking. Naomi’s cry called his gaze over and he peered through the hard mist of the downpour. The world was a blur to him. She was all a fuzz of damp dress and wet dark hair. His boot found its way back onto the wood, out of the air. Something was very wrong.

He whipped off his coat and slipped it over her shoulders without a word. He was soaked to the marrow in seconds. On her, the bottom nearly brushed the ground and the weight of all the contents stuffed in the pockets and lining would make it like a lead weight, but at least it was some protection from the rain. His eye was narrowed, vision clearing with every step closer to her. She became more solid amongst the fast grey haze. Something.

The Dove was just down the waterfront boardwalk; it was the closest place he could fathom running to, though it was hardly the sweetest. Then again, few places in Old Rose were.

He reached out and took her hand. It felt very small and made of glass.

“Let us go.”

A gentle tug and he was off.

Naomi moved with difficulty, glad he had offered him his coat. The dress she was wearing was one of her nicer ones.His hand was cold and wet. She tried not to put too much pressure on it. They entered the black dove and found it incredibly crowded. All heads swiveled towards the newcomers and then turned back. Except one.

"You!" The man was missing an arm. "YOU CRAZY HARPY. GET OUT OF HERE!" He was pointing with his other arm, and he was pointing at Naomi.

Naomi winced away instinctively, hiding behind Havek. "Leave me alone!" She mumbled.

"Who's this? Your new man?!" The man who was speaking laughed, as he walked towards them. Most of the people in the tavern were ignoring him. "You should stay away from this one, boy. I'm warning you."

Havek eyed the one-armed man in perfect passivity, not a single emotion crossing his face at the ominous shouting. He simply blinked for a moment, then busied himself with gathering the wet ropes of his hair and wringing them out onto the soaked hardwood. He gazed down at Naomi, muttering something in Mugrobi, a condolence of some sort judging by the soft tone.

The strange warning only ruffled him further, but he disguised it easily. A hand slinked down into the belly of his satchel, finding comfort in the old leather of his machete’s pommel. A dragging step to the side blocked Naomi all the more.

He blinked up from the floor, dragging his lone eye up to the man at last. He squared his broad, bony shoulders up from their usual slump. Tried to, anyway.

“It ent no good to go shoutin’ at some poor doll, now. A girl can't--" a pause --"can't do no foul to nobody. You’d do best to ‘pologize.” Spoken quiet and flat, yet firm to the ear.

The one armed man snorted. He wasn't impressed by Havek's attempt at being valiant. "Ye got it wrong, lad. This lass cost me an arm." He raised his stump. It was only then that Havek noticed the man was swaying unsteadily. He looked drunk.

Naomi seemed to shrink back further.

"Get out b'fore he comes for you. Ne'er lets her out long before he comes after ye. As for me...well I'm leaving. Bravin' the storm's better than what's gonna happen 'ere. Don't want ter witness no murders. Crazy demon woman." He shuffled out of the bar and yelped when the door slammed behind him.