Paragon "Tinker" Whitfield
The Wandering Jewel
Now, when faced with a shrieking banshee huddled in the corner of a crow's nest, one would think that parroting the assailants yell would be a perfectly reasonable reaction—so, Tinker threw out his hands defensively, whilst throwing his weight bodily into the wooden enclosure as to not entangle his legs in the netting. Her mouth gaped open like a fish, releasing a piercing squall that caused his hands to immediately sail to his ears, pressing as tightly as he could to dampen the sound. And then, Cathy's voice died down and she leered balefully at him, regarding him as if he was a seagull who'd swept down to peck at her food. Not so! The carpenter returned her look, arching his eyebrows with feigned reproach. The lookout's face transformed into the likeness of an adorable little girl, though she was a woman grown and now invaded his personal space by lurching forward, hands pressed against the wooden boards and face pressed mere inches in front of his own. His own eyes rolled uncomfortably cross-eyed, before he leaned his head backwards and pressed his hands against her shoulders, as if warding a snuffling dog out his lap. Though, Cathy's expression reminded him more of a swarthy, ill-contented tomcat, then an affectionate mutt. Somehow, he felt as if he'd trespassed into enemy territories, and felt unreasonably guilty. His lips pressed tightly beneath her steely gaze. Tinker's resolution shrunk a few inches, before he coughed uncomfortably in his closed fist.
Finally, Cathy relented her silent assault and slithered back into one of the corners, pulling herself over the lip and staring down at the newcomer who was being pulled back onto deck. It wasn't much farther than he was sitting, or slouching, rather. Tinker heaved an exaggerated sigh, then proceeded to kick his feet out in front of him, splaying them across the expanse of the crow's nest. She looked like a wild beast about to pounce and eject him from her tree—it wasn't far from the truth. He eyed her warily, before allowing himself a painful smile. It pulled all the bruises tight, and shot threads of pain across his face, but he didn't really mind. “I got it, I got it—,” Tinker conceded, dropping his gaze for a few moments. Again, he made a clicking sound with his tongue and raised his gaze. At Cathy's final snarls, Tinker took a deep breath between his teeth, then slowly exhaled. “Of course I did, y'know you're the only one who can heal this broken heart.” As if to conclude his ribbing statement, he rested his hands on his chest; above the beating appendage. He allowed his head to loll, until it rested comfortably (or as comfortable as one can be while slumped against stern wood) against the nest's interior. “Besides, there's too much commotion.”
Her pout deepened, then she looked away as if conceding something that hadn't been said. Of course, Cathy wouldn't force him to clamber down the netting right now. It wasn't like Tinker would hamper her lookout duties, but he'd probably tease her until she relented and joined him in badgering anyone else walking around on the upper decks. A rumbling chuckle escaped his throat, and he tipped an imaginary cap. “You have my thanks 'O fairest Queen of the hawk chasers,” He replied graciously. The remnants of manners unbeknownst to his fellow crew mates filtered through, then disappeared just as quickly as laughter erupted from his chapped lips. Cathy was certainly a doll—though, he doubted she even realized it. Innocence glinted in his unveiled, swollen eye. And she certainly was expressive. Sometimes, Tinker wanted to pinch her cheeks and question how old she really was. Experience had taught him that such questions, in regards to women, were best left unvoiced. He also felt like he'd be missing an important appendage if he fell to such a ridiculous urge; pinching anyone's cheeks aboard the Ratgrins would win him a place on Tiesa's stretcher. As much as he loved the redheaded woman, he didn't want anymore bruises than he already had.
“A kraken made of gold, though, can you imagine? We'd be doomed and crushed, but probably very, incredibly, undoubtedly... rich,” Tinker added, lowering his voice for affect. He was leaning precariously forward, pressing his hands between his knees so that Cathy would have to strain to hear him. Upon drawling the final word, spoken as if he were whispering into his lover's ear, the carpenter laughed gaudily and allowed himself to slump backwards once more. “Fortunately, I've never seen a kraken. So that much we have in common.” When Cathy tipped her head, Tinker smiled. Instead of sidling in his corner like a beaten hound, he decidedly lurched forward and caught himself on the nests lip to keep himself from propelling forward. Aching as he was, Tinker wanted to see what was happening below. He spotted the newcomer speaking to Raziah, Tok and Siegfried, and wondered what would happen between them. They could handle themselves in the presence of one man, he was sure. It sounded like Raziah was threatening to lop the man's head off, but then she was unceremoniously pushed away with a bump of Tok's swinging hip and the unknown man was collected into a manly embrace.
How curious. An amused expression tugged at his lips.
Even more amusing would be Raziah's reaction.