Marie
*Franklin stood up after berating the rowdy sailor, and walked over to the counter. Still mildly annoyed by his men, he still appreciated and respected his crew. They were good men, and he had kept them out of jail fairly well. Besides, their antics were sometimes funny. He sat down among his men, and asked what they had been fighting about.*

"Jenkins was sayin' that the sturgeon I was about to land was no more than a minnow. I'm telling ye, that fish was at least a 4 footer!" *The sailor was obviously invested in proving that fact, but all the other sailors and the captain looked like he was pulling a fast one.*

"Oldroyd, that's the fith four-footer you say you've lost in the past week. I want to know how you get 5 bites in a week and not land one? I think your snagging driftwood and calling it an eel." *The other sailors burst out laughing, and Oldroyd sputtered and stuttered, trying, to think of a response before conceding with* "If ye want driftwood cap'n it isn't hard to find, but I'm tell'n ye, that was the biggest sturgeon yet, and I'll prove it by catching the next one and cooking it up for me supper!"
Ann
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*The satyr lady had been intrigued in the (loud) conversation the sailors were having. She didn't see much things like this, probably because she didn't usually go anywhere outside her home for most of the time, so this made her postpone the reading she had planned to do here, so she put the pitch-black covers into her bag. These men did seem rather jolly, which she probably needed more in her life, since books were her only friends (reminds me of myself, again).*

*But, because our characters haven't actually interacted yet, the satyr decided to approach (haha funny jojo reference) the captain, to do a little chatter, which she also haven't done in a while, so she seemed maybe a bit nervous. The satyr decided to open the conversation with a question that seemed a bit obvious.*

-Is this your crew?-

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Marie
*He looked up at the satyr. He had a slight grin on his face. Oldroyd was usually so quick witted, but introduce alcohol and the man couldn't win an argument with a brick.*

"Aye lassie, these sun-dried rum soaked lads with their hand covered in more tar than a rotten pine tree are my crew." *He'd chuckle a little* "Good men usually, but introduce booze and things start to slip. I don't drink, so I'm the poor sot who's got to keep their hides out of jail."