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Ah, Piet. Oldest member of the crew and the only one Leon DiMarek could trust at the wheel.... and even then the gray haired fool scared him sometimes. Where was that salty old dog anyway? Whoring it up again?
He supposed it was well within the man's right, he was twice Leon's age. Leon might look down on the practice of hiring prostitutes and their diseases, but he could also be looked down upon for never having lain with a woman. It was his choice. Being brought into the Navy at such a young age had given him little chance to woo a woman.
He leaned forward against the counter, looking over his second flagon. Suddenly he did not want to be in the tavern anymore, the smell of old puke in the floorboards and spilled ail on the stool. It made him sick. He went outside the hovel and smelled the sea air... and the other pungent smells of the docks. Maybe they'd set sail early, though news of any shipwrecks hadn't been delivered in the week the had been on shore. He was at his current stop, but it was far from home.
Corosav wasn't his home. Leonardo DiMarek had no home.
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