- You think that you're the man. I think, therefore, I am. -
His obvious assessment of the less-than-impressive port is met with a scoff of her own. "Should have seen it before." Her eyes scan the work, overcritical of its pathetic state. At least they can actually dock without fear of stepping straight through the pier or losing their ship to the tide. It's still nothing to boast about, but the efforts have made a drastic difference in the functionality of the port, and she's not finished with it quite yet.
Thal's head snaps back at his curse, watching as the preying orchid scurries away with its prized taste of Jack Barclay. But the bliss and envy of women everywhere is short-lived and short-circuited as lightning cracks through the air. It obliterates the flower into a scorch mark in the sand, the nearest crate blasting open to send a white powder clouding the air (sorry Jack, it's only flour).
Having not had a moment to even react to the threat, Thal doesn't have to pretend at her nonchalance, only needing to dampen the utter awe at having watched him just decimate the creature without more than a thought. She purses her lips as she takes in the destroyed crate, smothering a bit of fire that had sparked along the wood just to do something other than gawk.
His comment draws a flicker of her gaze, her thoughts preoccupied by the abundance of inconveniences this region is already proving to possess. Colt might be strong and stronger willed, but it seems like a tall order to expect everyone to be willing to put up with the same risk for such a minor profit. "I'll take it under advisement," she says. Although the way she glares at the lost crate suggests he won't be her first call.
Uncrossing her arms, Thal turns back to the flow of work that hasn't stopped despite Jack's impressive display, already spotting where people need reminding or direction. "Well, unless you need something or have any more helpful 'recommendations,' I'll leave you to your..." she waves her hand at him, having decided that whatever he's doing (probably gathering intel) isn't going to interfere with her work.
Thal's head snaps back at his curse, watching as the preying orchid scurries away with its prized taste of Jack Barclay. But the bliss and envy of women everywhere is short-lived and short-circuited as lightning cracks through the air. It obliterates the flower into a scorch mark in the sand, the nearest crate blasting open to send a white powder clouding the air (sorry Jack, it's only flour).
Having not had a moment to even react to the threat, Thal doesn't have to pretend at her nonchalance, only needing to dampen the utter awe at having watched him just decimate the creature without more than a thought. She purses her lips as she takes in the destroyed crate, smothering a bit of fire that had sparked along the wood just to do something other than gawk.
His comment draws a flicker of her gaze, her thoughts preoccupied by the abundance of inconveniences this region is already proving to possess. Colt might be strong and stronger willed, but it seems like a tall order to expect everyone to be willing to put up with the same risk for such a minor profit. "I'll take it under advisement," she says. Although the way she glares at the lost crate suggests he won't be her first call.
Uncrossing her arms, Thal turns back to the flow of work that hasn't stopped despite Jack's impressive display, already spotting where people need reminding or direction. "Well, unless you need something or have any more helpful 'recommendations,' I'll leave you to your..." she waves her hand at him, having decided that whatever he's doing (probably gathering intel) isn't going to interfere with her work.
Thalassa
- I'm not your friend or anything, damn -
