There were certain parts of Rhy'Din that the respectable people did not enter without escort or purpose; certains areas of the Marketplace, for example, or the rougher end of the Docks. Places where the less scrupulous members of society were known to congregate, often right under the noses of the Watch. Though this part of the Market did not openly declare itself to be one such place, a single glance at the men and women lounging outside what purported to be a family-friendly tavern was enough to warn those who passed of the dangers of looking anyone too deeply in the eye. Pirates didn't just sail the stormy seas in these parts.
Work was work, and though Will knew there were some areas of Rhy'Din that were dicier than others, he sometimes had no choice but to venture to such places in order to earn an honest day's wage. Sometimes it was to make a delivery, sometimes it was to meet with a client. While he tried to avoid any dealings that seemed less than scrupulous, every now and then, he made an unwise choice, mostly due to inexperience and na'vet' where Rhy'Din was concerned. If there was any hint, however, of something being illegal in any way, he was not afraid to turn a potential client down, no matter how much money they might offer. It was just one of those situations he had the misfortune to find himself in today, and by the time he was through, he'd managed to talk his way out of a tidy sum of money and had nothing to show for it but a shiner and a slightly bruised ego.
He was making his way home on foot from his meeting with the less than savory potential client when he decided to stop for a quick beer at the local tavern to lick his wounds and figure out how he was going to explain the shiner to Jessamin.
Despite the rough look of the majority of those scattered through the tavern, he was left to nurse his beer in peace for a while, until a voice interrupted his thoughts. "What's a handsome fella like you doin' all alone in a place like this?"
The voice dripped sensuality, a husky tone that knew itself for who it belonged to. This turned out to be a tall blonde woman who seemed to have been poured into her close-fitting breeches and corset, flagrantly displaying more than a hint of what she had to offer. Yet she wasn't a simple wench, that was clear. The cutlass and twin pistols arrayed about her hips saw to that. She stood beside Will where he sat, one hand on her hip in a confident pose that made the most of the assets she was showing off, piercing blue eyes looking him over with blatant interest.
Fortunately or maybe unfortunately for him, Will had never encountered that pick-up line before, at least not addressed to himself, and certainly not from a female. He was in the middle of a swallow of beer when the pick-up line was tossed his way, and he swung a mildly curious glance to the speaker, automatically assuming she was not talking to him, only to find her standing right beside him and making no secret that she was peddling her wares. Or at least, that was the first impression Will had upon seeing her.
"Pardon me?" he asked, certain she could not possibly be talking to him or maybe she had mistaken him for someone else. For his own part, he was dressed in clean but gently-used clothing he'd picked up from a second-hand store - tan pants and a beige sweater that had seen better days, covered by a well-worn, brown leather coat.
"Aye, I'm talking to you, handsome," she laughed, relaxed and at ease in the scurrilous environment around them. "Your girl thrown you out for the day or somethin'?" She looked up at the barman, nodding to him briefly, and he poured a small measure of something deeply intoxicating and invitingly sweet scented. The woman paid him with easy aplomb, and slid the little shot glass to Will. "Madeira cures most ills of the heart," she advised him, perching herself on the stool at his side. "Captain Angelica D'Angelo is my name. And yours, handsome?"
Will eyed the woman warily, shifting his gaze from her to the shot glass and back, brows furrowed in confusion. "What?" he asked, puzzled why she might think he'd had an argument with his girlfriend and even more puzzled about how she even knew he had a girlfriend, not even realizing he had a shiner, though his cheek was throbbing painfully. "Will Taylor," he replied, catching the military rank that preceded her name. "Lieutenant Will Taylor, ma'am," he corrected himself, offering his the military ranking he'd held back home, though it hardly mattered in Rhy'Din.
"Pleasure to meet you, Will Taylor." His name was a purr of sound on her lips, the note in her voice calculated to travel down his spine and earth itself somewhere very physical. This woman was everything his Jessamin was not, and yet held the potential to hold the same fascination for him in at least one area. Her fingertip tapped the glass. "Drink up, it'll help."
He continued to eye her suspiciously, wondering what exactly it was she wanted from him. If he was reading her right, she wanted something more than he was willing to give. He'd met women like her before back in France when his buddies had dragged him out drinking, intent on him losing his virginity before he died that way. No man should die a virgin, one of them had said. He'd been so drunk he hardly remembered the encounter, but come morning, he had lost his virginity to a French whore with long brown hair who didn't speak a word of English, except for "Pants off, s'il vous plait."
"Uh..." was the barely intelligible reply he offered, clearing his throat awkwardly, feeling something stirring in areas that made his cheeks burn with heat. "I don't think that's a good idea," he muttered.
Angelica twisted, leaning her elbows onto the bar at her back, one shapely leg crossed over the other. Her eyes scanned the patrons of the bar, many of whom were members of her own crew. They didn't often come to Rhy'Din, but this was their place to frequent when they were in the city. She glanced sideways at Will, smirking. "Relax, mate, I'm not a whore. It's just a drink."
"Neither am I," he countered, letting her know that, drink or not, his wares were not for sale, unless she needed a pilot for some reason, but he doubted it. "I should be going," he said, taking a last swallow of his beer, leaving the wine untouched. To accept the drink would put him in her debt, and until he knew for sure what she wanted from him, he was taking no chances.
"I don't think so." Though her tone was still easy, there was an air of absolute confidence in her now that was unsettling. Subtle movement among the men in the bar had cut off his easy escape out the main door. Angelica's eyes turned to him with a knowing smirk. "I want you," she informed him bluntly. "You're not going anywhere until I've had you, Will Taylor. Might even teach you a few things you can show that girl of yours."
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, turning to face her. Both brows furrowed, a dark expression settling itself across his face. Was he hearing her right' He caught sight of movement from the corner of one eye and noticed several men had moved to cut off his exit. The wheels were turning in his head now, and he was starting to put two and two together. She wasn't a whore, that much was certain. A whore wouldn't have a....It hit him like a blow. A crew. She was a pirate. He'd been warned about the likes of her, but had never expected to actually encounter any.
Work was work, and though Will knew there were some areas of Rhy'Din that were dicier than others, he sometimes had no choice but to venture to such places in order to earn an honest day's wage. Sometimes it was to make a delivery, sometimes it was to meet with a client. While he tried to avoid any dealings that seemed less than scrupulous, every now and then, he made an unwise choice, mostly due to inexperience and na'vet' where Rhy'Din was concerned. If there was any hint, however, of something being illegal in any way, he was not afraid to turn a potential client down, no matter how much money they might offer. It was just one of those situations he had the misfortune to find himself in today, and by the time he was through, he'd managed to talk his way out of a tidy sum of money and had nothing to show for it but a shiner and a slightly bruised ego.
He was making his way home on foot from his meeting with the less than savory potential client when he decided to stop for a quick beer at the local tavern to lick his wounds and figure out how he was going to explain the shiner to Jessamin.
Despite the rough look of the majority of those scattered through the tavern, he was left to nurse his beer in peace for a while, until a voice interrupted his thoughts. "What's a handsome fella like you doin' all alone in a place like this?"
The voice dripped sensuality, a husky tone that knew itself for who it belonged to. This turned out to be a tall blonde woman who seemed to have been poured into her close-fitting breeches and corset, flagrantly displaying more than a hint of what she had to offer. Yet she wasn't a simple wench, that was clear. The cutlass and twin pistols arrayed about her hips saw to that. She stood beside Will where he sat, one hand on her hip in a confident pose that made the most of the assets she was showing off, piercing blue eyes looking him over with blatant interest.
Fortunately or maybe unfortunately for him, Will had never encountered that pick-up line before, at least not addressed to himself, and certainly not from a female. He was in the middle of a swallow of beer when the pick-up line was tossed his way, and he swung a mildly curious glance to the speaker, automatically assuming she was not talking to him, only to find her standing right beside him and making no secret that she was peddling her wares. Or at least, that was the first impression Will had upon seeing her.
"Pardon me?" he asked, certain she could not possibly be talking to him or maybe she had mistaken him for someone else. For his own part, he was dressed in clean but gently-used clothing he'd picked up from a second-hand store - tan pants and a beige sweater that had seen better days, covered by a well-worn, brown leather coat.
"Aye, I'm talking to you, handsome," she laughed, relaxed and at ease in the scurrilous environment around them. "Your girl thrown you out for the day or somethin'?" She looked up at the barman, nodding to him briefly, and he poured a small measure of something deeply intoxicating and invitingly sweet scented. The woman paid him with easy aplomb, and slid the little shot glass to Will. "Madeira cures most ills of the heart," she advised him, perching herself on the stool at his side. "Captain Angelica D'Angelo is my name. And yours, handsome?"
Will eyed the woman warily, shifting his gaze from her to the shot glass and back, brows furrowed in confusion. "What?" he asked, puzzled why she might think he'd had an argument with his girlfriend and even more puzzled about how she even knew he had a girlfriend, not even realizing he had a shiner, though his cheek was throbbing painfully. "Will Taylor," he replied, catching the military rank that preceded her name. "Lieutenant Will Taylor, ma'am," he corrected himself, offering his the military ranking he'd held back home, though it hardly mattered in Rhy'Din.
"Pleasure to meet you, Will Taylor." His name was a purr of sound on her lips, the note in her voice calculated to travel down his spine and earth itself somewhere very physical. This woman was everything his Jessamin was not, and yet held the potential to hold the same fascination for him in at least one area. Her fingertip tapped the glass. "Drink up, it'll help."
He continued to eye her suspiciously, wondering what exactly it was she wanted from him. If he was reading her right, she wanted something more than he was willing to give. He'd met women like her before back in France when his buddies had dragged him out drinking, intent on him losing his virginity before he died that way. No man should die a virgin, one of them had said. He'd been so drunk he hardly remembered the encounter, but come morning, he had lost his virginity to a French whore with long brown hair who didn't speak a word of English, except for "Pants off, s'il vous plait."
"Uh..." was the barely intelligible reply he offered, clearing his throat awkwardly, feeling something stirring in areas that made his cheeks burn with heat. "I don't think that's a good idea," he muttered.
Angelica twisted, leaning her elbows onto the bar at her back, one shapely leg crossed over the other. Her eyes scanned the patrons of the bar, many of whom were members of her own crew. They didn't often come to Rhy'Din, but this was their place to frequent when they were in the city. She glanced sideways at Will, smirking. "Relax, mate, I'm not a whore. It's just a drink."
"Neither am I," he countered, letting her know that, drink or not, his wares were not for sale, unless she needed a pilot for some reason, but he doubted it. "I should be going," he said, taking a last swallow of his beer, leaving the wine untouched. To accept the drink would put him in her debt, and until he knew for sure what she wanted from him, he was taking no chances.
"I don't think so." Though her tone was still easy, there was an air of absolute confidence in her now that was unsettling. Subtle movement among the men in the bar had cut off his easy escape out the main door. Angelica's eyes turned to him with a knowing smirk. "I want you," she informed him bluntly. "You're not going anywhere until I've had you, Will Taylor. Might even teach you a few things you can show that girl of yours."
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, turning to face her. Both brows furrowed, a dark expression settling itself across his face. Was he hearing her right' He caught sight of movement from the corner of one eye and noticed several men had moved to cut off his exit. The wheels were turning in his head now, and he was starting to put two and two together. She wasn't a whore, that much was certain. A whore wouldn't have a....It hit him like a blow. A crew. She was a pirate. He'd been warned about the likes of her, but had never expected to actually encounter any.