you look like my next mistake
Flora exhales a laugh through her nose, the kind that tastes of sea brine and mockery. "You get the rest once we actually finish the job," she replies, dragging out the last word like a sun-drenched drawl. Her fingers flick the wheel just enough to level the Sugartide as the ship begins to skirt the lower fringe of Stormbreak’s roots. Below, the Grotto unfolds like a smuggler’s dream—shadowed crawlspaces, jutting ledges, root-wrapped caches.
When Ace leans into her space, she doesn’t flinch or back away—if anything, she shifts to meet him halfway. Their silhouettes brush close under the canvas of ivy and stained glass as the sails rattle faintly above them, the wind a conspirator to their proximity. Flora lifts her chin, aqua gaze locked with his. "Careful now," she murmurs, the words a breath of warmth against his ear, "there’s very little I can’t afford these days.' Her smile turns slow and sly. "So make sure your services live up to their price tag."
Then she’s already pulling away, golden curls catching on the wind as she turns her attention back to the descent. Spice darts past them with a trill, drawing a shimmering spiral just ahead of the bow.
The Grotto looms now—close enough to smell moss and loam and damp stone. With a smirk tossed over her shoulder, Flora adds, "Of course, it’s entirely possible I brought you here as payment." Her tone is light, mocking, like this is all just a joke between thieves. "Might be someone waiting down there with a very specific taste for pretty boys with suggestive grins." She shifts her weight, one hand idly resting on the pommel of a dagger at her hip. "In which case, I’ll loot your pockets after I make the trade and not be out a dime."
When Ace leans into her space, she doesn’t flinch or back away—if anything, she shifts to meet him halfway. Their silhouettes brush close under the canvas of ivy and stained glass as the sails rattle faintly above them, the wind a conspirator to their proximity. Flora lifts her chin, aqua gaze locked with his. "Careful now," she murmurs, the words a breath of warmth against his ear, "there’s very little I can’t afford these days.' Her smile turns slow and sly. "So make sure your services live up to their price tag."
Then she’s already pulling away, golden curls catching on the wind as she turns her attention back to the descent. Spice darts past them with a trill, drawing a shimmering spiral just ahead of the bow.
The Grotto looms now—close enough to smell moss and loam and damp stone. With a smirk tossed over her shoulder, Flora adds, "Of course, it’s entirely possible I brought you here as payment." Her tone is light, mocking, like this is all just a joke between thieves. "Might be someone waiting down there with a very specific taste for pretty boys with suggestive grins." She shifts her weight, one hand idly resting on the pommel of a dagger at her hip. "In which case, I’ll loot your pockets after I make the trade and not be out a dime."
