- She dreamed of days where she worried more, and fussed over the small things that didn't concern life and death. Horizontal though she was, pelts brushing her cheek, it seemed she could not have more of a care in the world. She was not dressed, not made up, and feeling altogether contentedly reluctant. Selima had no plans of getting out of her bedclothes for a while, however long she'd been awake. Someone was coming to fetch her, after all, and it would be best if she stayed still.
"Mm..." she arched her neck, cracking a chain or two along her spinal cord as her eyes fluttered shut. Only blackness and the after image of the window's light greeted her. Groaning, Zizi rolled upright. Annie would be disappointed that she didn't have more specific news--specific, specific, the girl always wanted it specific and Zizi couldn't blame her--but the lack of ill will shall have to do. The politician was careless, she knew that much; one would have to be to decide to swindle money from the less well-to-do populace. What danger there would be would come from what lies around him. Her chin perked upwards, and she traded stares with the broken clock on the wall before her. Jutting from the ajar little door, the little bird on it's plank had its beak mostly shut. The minute hand below twitched from time to time. Perhaps... her Boatswain would be willing to give it a fine tuning.
Unfurling, her feet came flat against the floor, and her toes wriggled as the cold crawled up her legs. Slippers, slippers. She found them under her vanity, adjusted her tri-fold mirror, and got to work adding some color to her cheeks. "Yes, you're already beautiful," she told her reflection, "but we need to hide some discerning details." Or enhance them. Depending on the day and the crowd, Selima was better off looking older and haggard. It would not be today; richer audiences expected their fortunes to be clean and not laden with cobwebs and the juices of a boiling cauldron.
Still in naught but a linen dress and cozy footwear, she dragged a shawl about her shoulders and stepped out of her room. Leopold was late, and she was steadily growing hungry. A drift down a hallway and half a flight of stairs later, she had pancakes set before her. Pancakes. With chocolate in them and a merciful coating of jam--"Mercy me, Oluchi. Oluchi, darling. Pulling out all the stops today, are we?" Crewmembers behind her were chowing down, and pretty happy about it from what she could hear. Oh, she knew adopting this one into the crew would be the best thing that would happen to them, she knew from the start. "Oluchi," she called again, balancing a plate of food and utensils on her hip by the time she found him. She leaned forward conspiratorially and spoke in a giddy hush. "I've a plot, you see. There is a bloodhound puppy sniffing out my trail; what say you come with me when he finds me, bring an entire stack these scrumptious things, and make sure madame captain actually feeds herself this fine morning? It will be so horribly unprofessional, I could die."
She squawked out a curt laugh. Then her trouble-making grin seeped back, fading into a more demure smile with wide-eyed blinking. "And I'll give you my love if you've tea to spare."