Stench

[Dutch]

As he made his way gradually back to his ship, Dutch amused himself by snatching up a rock he’d found and flipping is about, throwing it up and catching it, twirling in circles while it hung in the air, tossing it up behind his back and bouncing it off his foot; more or less anything he could do one handed. He elicited a few appreciative whistles and giggles from passersby, mostly of the fairer gender, which he answered with winks and grins. He wondered absently how Giselle would react to his flaunting. Would she smile? Clap? Roll her eyes and sigh? Perhaps she’d take over and show him up, even. He suspected she was a woman with hidden talents.

At that, a little voice in the back of his head pulled at his thoughts. He tried to shove it back down, but it was a persistent little bugger and kept weaseling it’s way back to the forefront.

What had Giselle been doing in that tavern?

How often did pretty, albeit tough, women sit around and drink ale, unless looking for clients? And she obviously wasn’t looking for the usual prospects, judging by her dismissal of that drunkard. Which meant she was either a transporter, like himself - which made her competition, a merchant looking to move goods -which could make her a potential client, or a cutter - which would make her far too dangerous to…entertain, for the evening.

Either way, he was in a bit of a pickle.

Sighing heavily, he looked down and the damn steak he’d just paid an arm and a leg for, and changed direction, heading for his favorite fence, Cam. If someone was stealing, buying, selling or transporting in Assassin’s Cove, he knew about it. He’d know anything there was to know about the pretty Native and her Tandem.

Stride increasing now that he had a purpose, Dutch made for Cam’s, hoping whatever he found out was good news.

***

Jive had seen the smile slip for a second on the wolf’s face, and he recognized the look of concentration; it was quite similar to the look Dutch had when conversing mentally with Jive.

Coincidentally, it was also the look Dutch had when trying to figure out why a woman he’d wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am -ed was upset and trying to lodge a dagger in his throat.

Pouring a shot, he grinned sympathetically. “Native trouble?” he asked companionably. “Mine’s a right pain in the ass, most of the time. Good at heart, but lacking in common sense and survival instinct,” Jive admitted, his voice affectionately irritated. He did love Dutch, in his own way, but he certainly didn’t count him among the brightest. He supposed he may be intelligent by normal human standards, but the man had no idea how to properly use his stealth, and his libido could probably dive him to repopulate his species should they ever go extinct. “I go by Jive, by the way, but only when I have to hold up human customs. Usually I am just a fox,” he smiled.

Jive spent most of his time in fox form, where he had the mind and mannerisms of an animal - names weren’t normally necessary. Animals had their own means of distinction; smell, movement, appearance, sound. Dutch had named him, and he really only felt the need for a name when in human form. All the humans looked too similar anyways - it was no wonder they needed names to sort each other out.

[Giselle Danielle]

It never occurred to Giselle that Dutch might find out. She didn't think many men would ever question the reason for a woman's location, or her purpose. She had killed many men, usually before anything happened. She didn't necessarily enjoy killing anyone, it wasn't fun. She didn't do it for sport, that was for certain. Sometimes she saw their faces at night, before she went to bed. It was then that Maverick's wet nose would rub up against her cheek and his furry body would curl around her. Would she see Dutch's face after?

Angrily she got up from her bed and began to pace. Her hands clenched into fists in annoyance before she took a deep breath and looked to her weapons. She took one of her throwing knives and tucked it into her boot, just in case. She was quite confident in her strength, yet she had seen his muscled chest. A pirate was strong, they had to be. So a knife would be good insurance.

She looked outside, she had a couple hours before ten. So what would she do for the next couple of hours then? She rested her head against the wall and thought. She would think, and that was it. Perhaps she'd come up with something soon.

~~~

Maverick looked up at his question and nodded. Natives would understand, others did not.

"Yes, my tandem is unsure of what to do with herself." He sighed. "She's not a pain in the ass, however. She spends most of her time as a wolf, so her instinct is rather high for a human. We're from the Motre tribe." He said, sighing slightly. "The last." No emotion was said with that. Many knew the Motrean people had died, but less knew of survivors. "Nice to meet you, Jive. Humans are rather interesting creatures...I'd much prefer wolf myself."

Giselle had named Maverick much like Dutch had named Jive. Maverick loved Giselle dearly, like a brother. If anything were to happen to her, his heart would be shredded to pieces. He hated to see her grow any attachments with people, for people always died. He remembered how the death of her tribe had stolen much of her heart. She smiled rarely compared to how she used to smile before the murder.

[Dutch]

The broken bell above the door jingled forlornly as Dutch entered the store, and noticed that oddly, there were no customers in sight. Usually, at least one or two hung around, at the very least a thief looking for an opportunity. He looked cautiously toward the counter as Cam emerged from his stock room. The fence raised his eyebrows at the pirate.

“Don’t tell me your alarm bells are ringing, too, Dutch,” Cam said suspiciously, wiping his dirty hands on a dirtier towel. Dutch frowned.

“Too?” he asked, wondering at the odd adverb. Who else was Cam associating him with?

“Well, I told Jive tomorrow, at the earliest, and I meant it. I don’t have any clients for you yet. It’s barely been half and hour, you know. I may be good, but I’m not damn magician,” the merchant said brusquely, turning to retreat to his storeroom.

“Wait,” Dutch called, stepping forward and extending a hand. “Jive’s already been by? That’s impossible, he made a bee-line for the woods as soon as we got here. He hates the Cove; I always handle the business matters,” he said, trying to sort through this.

Cam shrugged his shoulders. “I’m telling you what I know, Dutch. Jive came in, all ruffled and pissed, scared off my customers - which I do not appreciate, by the way, and you can tell him that - and asked me to get you two a good, rich, unscrupulous client as soon as yesterday, because he was feeling some bad vibes floating around you. If you two aren’t seeing eye to eye, it’s none of my concern, but I’d just as soon you not get hurt in my town, if I can help it,” he said, giving Dutch a steady look. Cam had been a member of the rough’n’rowdy pirate crew that had showed him the ropes, and had more or less raised him and he’d always been fond of the blonde pirate and his fox brother. Aside from his personal affection for him, Dutch respected the man, and they’d been good business partners.

Slightly offended at Jive’s evasiveness, Dutch scowled and made for the door, intending to locate and have a good talk with his Tandem, but Cam called him back.

“I heard tell of another Native runnin’round here. Has a great horse with her…” he said, weighting his words with meaning. “Might be she’s one of the lost Horse Tribe. Maybe it might be an idea for you to go and talk to her. Maybe she could help you-”

Dutch looked hard at Cam, cutting him short. “We’ve been through this, Cam. I don’t need a tribe, I don’t need Native company, and I’m not interested in settling down,” he said with the air of a man repeating himself for the billionth time, and expecting to repeat himself a billion times more.

Cam held his hands up placatingly. “I’m just saying, could be it’s a good idea for you to find out about your roots, you know, maybe find a girl and start a little something worthwhile, ‘fore you get too old and jaded like me. Don’t want you missing out, that’s all, boy,” Cam said gently. Dutch rolled his eyes.

“If I wanted chains on me, Cam, I’d strap a cannonball to my legs and jump off my ship. I know you mean well, but that’s not for me. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” he said quickly, and left the shop before Cam got anymore ideas.

Halfway to his ship, Dutch remembered that he hadn’t asked what Giselle did. He wasn’t going back there to find out now. Gods no, that was certain. His lips quirked a bit. Well, he’d just have to find out from Giselle herself.

Imagine that. A pirate being straightforward with someone, he thought amusedly.

***

Jive offered the wolf a shot as he admitted being the last of the Motre tribe.

“I’d heard the stories. I’m sorry for your loss,” Jive said sincerely. “My Native and I are sort of orphans ourselves. We were born in Adea, and we never really had a tribe. Hard to miss what you never had, though,” he shrugged, and led the way over to a couple of barrels, plopping himself down on one.

“I agree, I much prefer being a fox. This human body is so…cumbersome, sometimes. And the sense of smell is terrible,” he said, tilting back his first shot and hissing as the alcohol scorched a path down his throat, followed by a tingling wave of soothing coolness unique to the Rou’Mourna brand.

“So, tell me of yourself,” he said, pouring himself another shot and proffering the bottle of rum to the wolf.

[Giselle Danielle]

A yell from below interrupted her thoughts. With a scowl she pushed away from the wall and began to pace. There was nowhere in the cove where she could relax. Nowhere. If she relaxed here than her money would be stolen, a knife would be in her back or a man might be trying to have his fun with her. She hated the cove. The one thing that wasn't so dreadful was the unfortunate pirate with a noose around his neck. He had probably angered many women, but she wondered what he did to piss off the woman who came to see her. It was of no importance, she never asked why. She never used to want to know why.

A dull headache was beginning to form toward the front of her skull. Too many thoughts, she needed them to stop. She grabbed the cloak resting on a chair and quickly left the room. She locked the door and pocketed the key before hurrying down the stairs. She slipped through the crowded tavern. Maverick was gone but there was still one companion that could help her.

She pushed open the stable door and slipped inside. The stable boy was asleep, curled up on a bale of hay at the back of the building. She was tempted to wake him up, to ask him how he'd feel if the person guarding his horse lay sleeping. He didn't even stir as she walked to the stall where her horse stayed. She let him be, only having time for her horse. The chaotic thoughts that plagued her mind earlier seemed to disperse as her eyes fell on the large black steed standing with boredom in his stall. He lifted his head when she entered the stall, nickering softly in greeting.

"Hello there, Spade." She said, grinning as she ran a hand down the front of his face. "How are you?"

She didn't expect a response as she simply pet him. Horses responded in their own little ways. She ran her hands down his neck until she hit the blanket that covered his fur and brand that marked him of the Motre tribe. She would have bought him a better blanket, one of silk or cotton without any holes in it, but he would have been marked a horse of value and probably stolen.

"We'll leave in a week, then you'll have a nicer stall to sleep in." She said gently, resting her head against his neck. "Until then...we'll both have to suffer."

His large brown eyes looked toward her, as if asking 'are you serious?.' She smiled and ran a hand down his soft muzzle. Sometimes she felt like he understood her. Maybe by the tone in her voice, or her movements or actions. Either way, they understood each other. She remembered when she first got him, he had been wild then. Would he agree, if he could talk, to her killing Dutch? The thoughts from before swarmed back to her and she sighed, burying her face into his coarse mane.

"I don't know what to do, Spade." She grumbled. "And this has never happened before."

~~~

Maverick smiled in thanks as he took the shot, downing it without a thought. A low grumble escaped his lips as the alcohol seemed to burn his throat, yet relaxed as it soothed.

"Ah, no worries. I'm sorry for you, for you have never had the full experience of being in a tribe. Though, it's no fun going into a new one, either." He leaned against the wall near the door to Dutch and Jive's cabin. "But, my view is perhaps biased."

He nodded at the mention of the smell. "You can't smell anything as a human, or hear anything. Humans...I sometimes wonder what the benefit of them are. Well, the food...that's always a good thing. And the rum."

He took the bottle from the fox, pondering on what he should say about himself. "Well, there's not much really. My Tandem and I go place to place for work. She absolutely hates the Assassin's Cove, but it's the best place to get work. She is a hired mercenary. Though, I don't think that line of work suits her very well...

"And you?" He asked, pouring himself another shot and handing the bottle back to the fox.

[Dutch]

Dutch was brooding.

He stood at the entrance to the docks, his ship’s prow just in sight, debating on whether or not to bother looking for his Tandem, or simply wander about the town and purposely avoid him, out of spite.

He was leaning toward spitefulness.

It peeved the pirate that Jive had taken it upon himself to hustle them out of the town, on his behalf, no less, without even telling him. Granted, neither the fox his human counterpart was known for their forthrightness or honesty, but this just seemed… condescending. He had half a mind to scoop the fox up and toss him in the ocean, just to see him spit and fuss. Jive hated getting his fur wet.

Sighing and making his decision, Dutch stalked down the rotting wooden planks toward his ship, irritation set in every line of his face.

***

Shrugging, the fox tilted his head carelessly as the wolf expressed his condolences for the pair’s lack of tribe experience. It never bothered him over much; though it would have been nice to have known other Tandems…

He perked up at the wolf’s assessment of human’s worth, deciding on food and alcohol, and raised his glass in agreement.
“Here here!” he said jovially, and tilted back his next shot. As he brought his head back down, the world lagged oddly, and Jive smiled to himself. Ah, yes. Soon he would be rid of that nagging worry in his gut, just as free of instinct as most humans.

He nodded as Maverick spoke of his Tandem, watching the deck wobbly uncertainly and drag as the alcohol started taking effect. Usually, it took at least four shots to affect the fox so quickly, but he was small, and the Rou’Mournans knew how to brew.

“I tried being a cutter for a while, but my human kept getting in the way. He was always trying to sleep with the marks before we killed them. We’re better at being pirates anyways, though. Dutch isn’t much of a planner - he’s too impulsive,” he admitted, then perked in the direction of the docks, - a familiar blonde head was weaving it’s way toward them.

“Actually, here he comes now,” said the fox, standing up and lifting his shot glass in greeting.

“Oi! Your stash of rum has been compromised, and you’d best have a good reason for holding out on me!” he said, in a surprisingly good mood, the result of relatable company and good rum.

[Giselle Danielle]

Kill him, don't kill him. Stupid emotions. Foolish emotions. Why did she even have them? They were bothersome, in the way, a pain. Everyone deserved to die. Almost everyone, at least. Given that Dutch was a pirate, Giselle was rather certain that he had probably killed someone once in his life. So he deserved to die, and so did she. But, she would not die. Death had visited her once and he had missed his mark.

"Dutch will die." She said, giving her horse one last pat before leaving the stall.

She had made her decision. The voice at the back of her mind that had been sprouting 'but' and 'what if' questions and statements grew silent. A plan formulated in her mind. They would have their fun, and when he slept she would snap his neck. A win win situation. He would be happy that she showed and she would be happy with the bag of money waiting for her in the end.

~~~

Maverick grinned, already beginning to feel some of the effects. He wasn't as far along as Jive, he was a bit bigger than the Fox. Yet, he could feel the tingling in his brain and the happiness that followed. He poured himself another shot and drank it quickly. This would be a very good day.

"Ah, a cutter?" he asked, tilting his head to one side like a curious pup. "I could see how that could get annoying." he muttered at the mention of his tandem trying to sleep with all the marks. "Though, I could see how it could be easier. Kill them when they're exhausted afterward, and plus you get the pleasure in the beginning. Giselle has done that once or twice." He nodded and then paused, did the Fox say Dutch? "Did you say Dutch? As in, blonde-haired, big flirt, good with women, annoying little pirate?"

He looked over the side of the ship, watching the blonde-haired man make his way towards the ship. He poured himself another shot and quickly downed it, this one to get rid of the guilt that began to set in. He hated to be the bringer of bad news, especially when he saw the fox in such high spirits. His own had disappeared and the grin on his face had been washed away to be replaced with a face of seriousness. He couldn't let a native feel the loss of their tandem, it was too great a pain.

"Dutch." Maverick called down, looking at him grimly. The pirate didn't look much happy either. "I had no idea this lovely fox was your Tandem, if I had known I would have notified the fox sooner." He glanced to the fox and then back to the pirate. "It seems my Tandem has been given the task to kill you. But...I don't think she wants to."

He looked to the fox.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know he was your Tandem. When I had 'native trouble' it was her telling me that she wasn't sure about killing him. It seems that the two have set up a date for later tonight." He grumbled. "Perhaps the two could negotiate..."

[Dutch]

Dutch felt a momentary jolt of shock when his normally withdrawn, sardonic Tandem stood up and greeted him warmly, and yet another when he saw the fox had company. When was the last time Jive had lowered himself to drink with a human?

However, upon closer inspection, the pirate realized the guest wasn’t quite a human; his own half-animal core recognized the white-haired man, and immediately knew him as the white wolf that had lain at Giselle’s feet. He felt a flash of unease run through him. Had something happened to Giselle?

Scaling the gangplank, he gave his attention to the steel-eyed wolf, and came to stand next to his inebriated Tandem as he told him of Giselle’s plan.

Jive glanced worriedly at Dutch as the wolf apologized for his withholding information, and gave him an easy smile.

“No harm done, we are forewarned now. Besides, Dutch probably has at least ten marks out on him now anyways. Luckily, he’s extremely good at negotiation,” Jive said, trying to relieve the tense atmosphere that had descended, but his attempt was strained and weak. Dutch hadn’t often been rebuked by a woman he’d pursued, and his ego tended to be a bit fragile. How would he handle the news a woman he’d been after was being paid to kill him?

Dutch sank onto the barrel Jive had vacated, and let the steak meant for the wolf plunk heavily on the makeshift table. Why would someone want to kill him? Sure, he was a pirate, and he’d stolen from people, but it was just something that happened. Part of life.

It never occurred to him that a scorned woman he’d loved and left would have sufficient hostility against him to issue a death warrant. After all, he was such an amazing lover that surely, one night with him would leave any woman feeling utterly blessed and in awe.

He brightened a little as he went over the wolf’s words again, and it registered that Giselle didn’t actually want to kill him. Perking up a bit at the thought that he’d affected her enough to instill a hesitance in her, he poured himself a shot and smiled at his Tandem.

“The reason I was holding out on you is so you wouldn’t drink it all,” he teased, tilting the shot back and hissing, the gesture remarkably similar to Jive’s. He turned to the wolf seated across from him, and gave him the same easy smile. “He’s a regular lush when it comes to this stuff,” he stage whispered conspiratorially.

Jive rolled his eyes at his Tandem. “You idiot, he just told you his Tandem is coming to kill you. Have the decency to be a little bit worried,” he said irritably, his buzz quickly fading. It seemed the precautions he’d taken to get Dutch out of this hellhole would be too late.

Grinning wider, Dutch winked at the wolf and gestured to the fox with his elbow. “And he’s a lousy drunk,” he whispered in the same tone. He threw Jive a quick grin and turned back to the wolf. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced earlier. I’m Dutch,” the pirate said amiably, extending his hand.

[Giselle Danielle]

Once outside she glanced to the sky, examining the locations of the stars and moon to gather the time. It was probably close to nine forty-five. My how time flied when one was preoccupied. Her thoughts were good at that, good at distracting her from the real world. Now she would not allow her thoughts to distract her, it was time to head to the ship to meet the pirate. She ran the plan over once more in her head before setting a foot forward to start the walk towards the docks.

She would take her time on arriving. She didn't want to appear eager and show up early. She planned for a couple minutes late. Some called it fashionably late, she simply called it 'close enough.' For if one argued that she was late, she would simply respond with 'I came close enough, didn't I?' She was good at angering people, and wondered why no one had tried to kill her yet.

~~~

Maverick's eyes had attached themselves to the steak as soon as he had caught whiff of it. It was difficult to control the saliva that threatened to pour out of his mouth in a drool. As a wolf he could let it hang freely. Humans didn't do that. Giselle had explained that it was embarrassing, though Maverick saw no harm done. When the steak hit the table, Maverick's eyes were forced upward towards Dutch's face. For a moment Maverick seemed to appear as if he were pleading with his eyes. The look lasted for only a minute before it was replaced with a soft and easy smile.

"I'm sure that kind of negotiation won't sway Giselle that easily." the Wolf said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Though, it wouldn't be completely unlike her to mate with you anyway. I believe you might have to offer her a bit more for her to not at least try and kill you. This job has been the first in over a month. We've been running short on cash and that's why we're here...otherwise we'd be elsewhere."

He watched Dutch and Jive go back and forth, smile turning into a grin.

"Ah, but the Fox is happy is he not? Isn't that what matters, the whole point of getting drunk?" He took the Pirate's hand. "I'm Maverick."

((Not so good post, I apologize. It's very late out here, haha.))

[Dutch]

After proper introductions were made, Dutch excused himself to go prepare his little dinner, much to his Tandem’s bafflement.

“Honestly,” he muttered darkly to the wolf as he watched the pirates retreating back, “the man has absolutely no survival instinct at all. No offense meant toward the skills of your bond mate, but this is madness,” he ranted, throwing disapproving glances around the ship, as though the Native assassin might pop out from any shadow. “We should be hauling anchor and flying fast as the wind will take us. I hate this town…” the fox snatched up the bottle of rum still sitting by him and took a swig straight from the bottle. How on earth was he supposed to keep his Tandem alive if he insisted on meeting with assassins - in a solitary, vulnerable manner, no less?
He scowled at the entrance to the galley into which Dutch had disappeared, and looked back to the wolf with a slightly defeated expression.

“Well, I suppose I’m going to have to help the idiot get his date with doom in order. You’re more than welcome to stay, if you wish. Gods know I’m going to need all the help I can get with this…” he said, waving a hand in Dutch’s direction.

It would be so much easier if he could just kill the girl. But he’d come to rather like Maverick, and it made him more than a little uncomfortable to think of causing another Native the pain of losing their bond brother. Or sister, he supposed.

Nothing but trouble ever seemed to come out of this rotten, stinking town.

***

Dutch paced the deck of his ship in the dim moonlight, the dark relieved only by sparsely lit lamps created by the Iccaru of the Atticus Isles, their wicks carefully contained by methods unknown to the pirate. The little flames danced weakly, their normally jovial spirits seemingly dampened by the heavy mood of their owner. As Jive sat on the steps leading up to the bridge, idly running the fingers of his still human form through the flame of a candle, he imagined that even if all the wicks suddenly fell and licked the deck with their destructive red tongues, the sheer magnitude of Dutch’s foul mood would keep them from devouring the ship.

Flicking open a small device that could be used to tell time, even after the sun had set and the moon was nowhere to be found, Jive noted for the sixth time in the last three minutes that the girl was late. He blew out his candle, looking one last time to Dutch before rising to descend to his cabin. He would keep an ear out, but Dutch had made it perfectly clear that unless he directly called for help, he wanted to handle this on his own. Jive did not approve, obviously, but he could no more change his Tandem’s mind than reset the heavens. He checked the knife in his boot discretely one last time before moving, and reassured himself that his Tandem may not be terribly bright, but he at least knew how to take care of himself in a fight.

Things will be fine, he assured himself.

[Giselle Danielle]

Maverick sighed, watching the man leave. So, he was going to take his chances then. DId he not understand how Giselle worked? She killed in many different ways, whether it be by blade or by hand. Jive seemed to understand, at least a little bit.

"I agree with you, it is madness." The wolf sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't understand how anyone could like this town...not at all."

Due to the alcohol, Maverick's thoughts weren't exactly clear. He came up with a couple of ideas to hold Giselle back from killing Dutch, but each one involved hurting her. That was simply something Maverick could not do. Even at the order of her father to knock her out he could not, eventually the chief did it himself. He still remembered the look the man gave him, it haunted him to this very day. The chief had made it absolutely cleare to keep his little girl from harm.

"I'll help." Maverick muttered distractedly. "But there's a good thing." His mind started to kick back into gear as his eyes turned to the fox. "She's never hesitated when it's come to killing people. Yet, it seems a bit different with Dutch."

The wolf followed the fox and did his best to help.

~~~~

Giselle knew that she was late, but she took her time nonetheless. She felt no need to be hurried, she would be there when she would be there. It's how life worked sometimes. Perhaps she would have been closer to time if she knew what boat was his. Instead she walked down the dock and looked from ship to ship. It was eerie, really, walking in between the dark shadows of boats. In the Assassin's Cove nonetheless.

"The great assassin is scared by a little bit of shadow." She grumbled, jumping as a ship groaned beside her. "Perhaps it would have been better if I had become a seamstress..."

She sighed and looked around, feeling a bit lost and uncertain. Her eyes landed on flickering candles unboard a ship not too far away. Was that his ship? She didn't know, but she began walking toward it. If it wasn't his, then maybe the men onboard would know which was his.

Maverick was laying at the bottom of the stairs underneath Jive. He had decided that it would be best to stick around. If something were to happen, he'd be able to stop it. He didn't know what to say, and so he remained in his wolven form. He got up when Jive did, tail moving side to side for a brief moment in a wag to try and get the fox to smile...or something. He stood when the fox did and followed him, watching him closely to see if he would rather Maverick leave than follow. In all honestly, the wolf had nothing to do and had found a bit of comfort with the strange two natives on the boat.

[Dutch]

Jive smiled down at the white wolf as he wagged his tail in a distinctive ‘cheer up’ manner. He shimmered into his natural fox figure and gave the wolf a friendly bump with his tiny frame, conveying his gratitude for the company of someone not moronically insane, and nosed open the door of his cabin. He slid into the darkness, his keen eyes picking out the familiar shapes in the gloom, and made room for the wolf to settle in while they kept an eye on the proceedings out on the deck. Dutch had outright refused to allow Jive to sit in on his damn ’date’, so the fox had agreed to wait in his cabin - giving the ego-stricken pirate the semblance of privacy, and the fox moderate peace of mind.

Dutch saw the little red furball disappear and sighed a little, feeling his Tandem’s unease and disapproval through their tenuous mental link. It was always harder to sense what the other was feeling when they were upset.

Glaring out at the night, he wondered what was keeping the girl, before suddenly remembering a rather crucial detail.

He hadn’t told her where his ship was.

Kicking himself mentally, Dutch rubbed his eyes and through a thought at Jive. I forgot to tell Giselle which ship we’re on. I’m going to go find her, he told him.

Jive snorted. Oh, fabulous plan, genius. Go out in the dark, amid huge shadows cast from the ships on the rickety old docks, and find an assassin sent to kill you. Why not just toss your sword down and jump on it? Die with a little dignity, he snapped irritably, but didn’t tell him not to go. He was sincerely hoping the girl intended to talk to Dutch for a little bit, perhaps even bed him or something. He needed more time to think of a plan.

Dutch smiled sarcastically in Jive’s direction. Thanks so much for your vote of confidence. He was just about to depart the ship and search for the missing Native when his keen eyes spotted a familiarly feminine figure striding toward the vessel. Smiling on sight of her, irrationally glad to see her in spite of the fact she could very well bring his demise, he grabbed onto a rope and dove off the deck with a running jump, swinging down and landing at the edge of the gangplank.

Bowing and plastering his most alluring smile on his face, Dutch held his hand out to take hers and guide her onto the ship.

“Forgive my absentmindedness with directions, my lady, but I was so dazzled by you it slipped my mind. Luckily, your radiance rivals the stars, and all I had to do was seek out a fallen piece of the sky. You look beautiful,” he said, looking at her admiringly.

[Giselle Danielle]

Maverick's head raised as the Fox smiled before shimmering into the greater beast of a hunter. Maverick did not return the bump, not because he did not want to continue the fun, but because he felt that his large frame would accidentally overpower the fox. Given, Jive was not too much smaller than he, but small enough where the wolf felt the need to be careful. He followed the fox into the room and laid down where Jive had cleared out an area. Much more comfortable than the silly human form. At least now he could be free of clothes and simply relax.

Distantly he felt the same fear that Giselle felt. He knew she was fine, and so he didn't bother to communicate with her. She'd be there when she'd be there. Plus, he didn't want her to know he was there. She would be angry if she knew his location, very angry.

She heard the footsteps before she saw him. Her first thought as she watched him swing over the ship was show off before a pang of guilt hit her. She had thought that the feeling would go away, the uncertainty. She thought she had made it quite clear to herself that she would outright kill him. Seeing him again made it all the more difficult. The thought of killing him felt unreasonable and a waste. She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, forming an easy smile on her face as she took his proffered hand.

"Why thank you." She said, bowing her head in thanks. When she was set to kill someone and had to act a part, she was much more confident, because she knew what she wanted to do. "And the fault can be shared. I forgot to ask where on the docks we were to meet. It helps that your boat is the only one with lights on."

She definitely was not as skilled with words as he, but she got her point across and that was the important part. For a moment she felt like the entire plan would be sacrificed. She wanted to tell him why she was there, what she planned to do, that she was to kill him. She realized how stupid it would be and pushed it out of her head. He was strong, as noted by the leap off the ship.

"And you flying off the side of the ship was kind of a giveaway as well."

[Dutch]

Jive watched his idiot Tandem swing off the ship like he was cannonballing into the ocean, and gave a derisive snort and a shake of his muzzle, clearly disapproving of the ostentatious display. He looked over at the wolf and jerked his muzzle toward the vanished pirate, as if to say “Do you believe this moron?” He’d go to outstandingly ridiculous lengths to impress women, sometimes. He’d changed into his good silk shirt and leather pants (which had been a parting gift from a wealthy seamstress he’d once had an affair with, specifically made to showcase his…attributes), he’d combed his hair for what had probably been the first time in weeks, taking nearly and hour, he’d cooked a rather over the top dinner and laid out an actual table on the deck of his ship, festooned the entire ship with lanterns, and had been chewing peppermint leaves nonstop for at least half the time he’d been primping. Although, to be fair, Jive suspected the last bit was more out of nervousness than conceitedness.

And, in spite of Jive’s displeasure with his Native’s antics, it was his apparent nervousness that worried him the most.

Dutch was not nervous around women, as a rule. He was annoyingly self-assured, a trait that was reinforced every time one of them melted at his smile, and the fox could only remember the last time he’d been rejected because of the rarity of the occurrence. And yet, just thinking about this woman had him jittery, and he knew enough of his Tandem’s thoughts to know it was only partially due to the threat of death. What had this woman done to set him on edge? Why was Dutch so concerned with her approval?

Jive did not like this.

He sighed irritably and rested his head on his crossed paws, his tail twitching like an agitated cat’s. Those two had better hurry up and get back in his sight before he went to be sure Dutch didn’t have a knife sticking out of his back. Or his groin, more likely.

Dutch felt a niggling of doubt as a pretty smile graced Giselle’s features, her easy conversation not at all seemingly forced. Would someone sent to murder him be so calm?

Don’t be fooled. Any good cutter knows how to act. He cautioned himself, remembering his own short-lived stint as an assassin.

Eyes glinting merrily, he grinned at the Native. “Did it impress you?” he asked, straightening and offering her his arm, knowing full well the movement draped the silk of his shirt across him like a second skin wherever it touched him, and gaping open to reveal the rest.

Even if he hadn’t awed her with his silly swinging about, he knew that his apparel could easily make up for it.

“So, beautiful, tell me what you did today in my absence. I would offer to trade tales, but unfortunately I did naught but count the minutes until you graced my sight again,” he said, carefully watching her face, hoping to catch a tell-tale twitch or the like. Perhaps Maverick had been mistaken, and it was a different pirate she had been commissioned to kill?

((^.^ Dutch is such an egotistical moron, lol.))

[Giselle Danielle]

A grunt escaped Maverick's throat at Jive's actions. The wolf was laughing. Not at Jive, but at the situation. Here was a man who was bending over backwards for his tandem. He found it humorous. Noted, the jumping off the ship was a bit overdone. Instead, the wolf nudged the fox's head gently with her nose as if to say "don't worry, everything will be fine." His tail thudded on the floor as he tried to assure the wolf with a happy wag. He didn't think their tandems would hurt each other. He didn't know why, but he felt as if everything was going to be just fine.

He rolled onto his back, looking at the irritated Jive upside down. He was trying to bring light on the situation. Maverick almost always felt the need to have someone smile. It made him feel better, assured. Wolfs smiled, though more from panting and being tired than expressing happiness. It was a bit strange why the wolf felt the need to bring people happiness when it didn't much matter as a wolf. Nonetheless, Jive had become Maverick's target. He would make the fox smile.

Giselle had not done much to prepare. She had spat out a chewed up peppermint leaf before roaming around the docks. That and take a bath. She had fussed with her vest until it acted almost like a corset and had opened much of her shirt to show much of her bosom. Not much else looked different. It was difficult to even see that she had combed her hair. It looked the same. Perhaps it was simply because she was a woman rather than because she was beautiful that made Dutch ask her to have dinner with him. Despite his assurances that she was, she did not feel that pretty.

"A little, I'll admit." She smiled as she took his arm. "Trying to show off?" she asked in a teasing tone.

It was true, his apparel did help him a lot. The clothes seemed to tease her, making her want to take them off so she could see the real muscle and skin rather than the mold the clothes formed. Yet, the feeling went away at his question. The right corner of her lips twitched slightly downward. She found a smile and put it on before shrugging.

"I stayed in the inn for a while before trying to figure out what to do and what to wear for the evening." She did not lie. Well, not telling someone something was still considered a lie, so technically she did. "There must have been something other than just waiting for me." She said, smiling at him still. "If not, than I apologize for keeping you waiting so long."

He amused her. In a good way, of course. It still was hard not to laugh and hug him. That was saying something, for Giselle had rarely smiled nor laughed since the death of her tribe. Another pang of guilt hit her and she looked away for a moment. Once again she wanted to blurt out 'I'm suppose to kill you' but she held back.

[Dutch]

Jive would have hid a smile at the big wolf’s antics, had he been in human form, but in his natural state the fox could limit such actions more easily. He rolled his eyes and stood, stretching and feigning a disinterested, bored yawn, peeking sideways at the overgrown puppy. Suddenly, mid-yawn, he put his sprightly muscles to good use and sprung onto the wolf’s upturned stomach, using it as a springboard to launch himself onto a high shelf. He perched himself there, grinning toothily down at the great white furball, his sharp eyes glinting impishly and his tail twitching to and fro with mischievous glee.

He made an odd, growling, chuckle-like noise in the back of his throat, narrowing his eyes at the wolf below and a clear, ‘Whatcha gonna do now?’ challenge.

Dutch grinned playfully and winked as Giselle called him on his lack of activities. “Alright, you have me. I spent my time planning silly acrobatics in order to dazzle you. You know, it is every man’s basic instinct to try and impress gorgeous women, and I am but a man,” he defended, letting his eyes rove lightly over her figure, “and I must admit to succumbing to my baser instincts on the occasion,” he added, voice teasingly husky, a sly smile on his lips.

He had caught the little guilty glance she’d cast at the floor, however and his stomach sank a little at the sight. She had been commissioned, after all. He felt a dull spark of anger flicker in the back of his mind - (was she really planning on going through with it? What had he done to warrant death? …Well, aside from the obvious…) - before he squashed it. He would do the same thing, in her position. Most likely.

Unless the mark was sufficiently astounding and offered him a better deal…

Surprisingly, Dutch did have a plan (though all the same he was glad he‘d hidden the tiny blade up his shirt cuff). Granted, it wasn’t a very good plan, certainly not foolproof, and more than a little circumstantial, but it was a plan nonetheless.

And it started with getting her to realize what a waste it would be to kill him.

Leaning close, he turned her chin toward him with a gentle grip, his thumb lightly running across her jaw, and fixed her with his heavy-lidded ‘I’m-concerned-but-still-sexy’ stare.

“You look upset, Giselle. Is something bothering you?” he asked, voice low and smooth as the silk he was clothed in.