Jackel in the junk

[Vaelin]

Vaelin

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He puffed out his cheeks, his expression changed none plus a raised eyebrow at her mention of losing ships to those he had been with previously. His grin remained all the same, though his eyes always held scrutiny. “For all their preaching of being against the nomads, it seems they make as much headroom as the Order does towards the threat. I suspect it was Cardamine shipments they were after.”

Her poker face was admirable but it was always the eyes he looked and he could see the concern she wished to hide. He thought for a moment to organize his words in his mind. “I wouldn’t have cared if you came with an attack squadron to destroy them. It was a breaking of the ice, being that I had met one of their ships. The Fighter is the captain of a commandeered liberty dreadnought, just so you don’t get surprised with that later. Had I known of their disposition towards the Junkers I wouldn’t have been as foolish as to invite them into Puerto Rico and nor do I like Raven.” He inclined his head at the closing of his statement.

He still nursed a petty grievance of Hunt’s disruption of his cloak. “I hope they do settle down well, while my ship was a good haven. I doubt it's a good environment for people use to liberal freedoms. When it comes to my ship, I am a dictator.” He looked at the spots just under her eyes and he shook his head. Part in sympathy but also guilt in his own failing in helping her, nothing had come to fruition and only a string of complications that seemed more like excuses. “My intuition is asking me to ask you if you’ve been eating.”