Lester
Neama Morrow
Tonate Proper

The child stayed put despite Asher's words, turning back to look up at the woman behind him. 
"It's alright, Ilo. You can go now."
Without as much as a word the kid snuck past Asher to get to the door, disappearing as fast as he had shown up and closing the door behind him. Only then did Neama look towards Asher.

She had been waiting for him for a while now. The only sign of her being there earlier was the small wooden table that, together with two chairs, seemed to be the only furniture in the barren room. A stack of letters were spread across the wood. Now Neama stood in front of Asher, hands clasped in front of her brown skirt. Like most of the time her clothing blended with the surroundings. If it wasn't for the heavy jewelry she couldn't be distinguished from anyone else on the streets. 
"I hope you'll forgive me. You can be quite a hard man to reach." Her voice started off serious, but shortly after a soft smile appeared on her face, "As you were last time. How have you been?"


Keeping up to her image she started off like they've known each other for longer. Neama had found that keeping the people you worked with close was as important as anything. She had mastered radiating the just and honest appearance, but there wasn't any way to fully convince people she worked with. There would always be distrust. Rightfully so.
Fred
Asher Tillabid
Tonate Proper

Asher shook his head lightly as his parrying dagger found it's way back into the little sheath on his belt. Almost every conversation felt a game, how much information could a person slip out of him? Seldom was there an exception and Neama tended to be the biggest of them, to the eyes of the ferryman made her dangerous; perhaps longing for the light hearted banter he was starved of or perhaps from her humble disarming personality Asher's face slipped in a small smile, feeling as though he was falling for what must've been another lure already. 

"I'm- I'm well, busy much like yourself I presume?" The ferryman had a hard time finding a rhythm in conversation that deviated from his usual inhospitable nature and that much would be the easiest thing to read and further exploit for a person like Neama. "If I was easy to find I'm not sure you'd have sought me out again admittedly."
Asher commented wanting to reign the conversation back into a something he had some better control over quickly, albeit clear what his attempt was and likely in vain.

Given the little exchange so far and having some time to already adjust Asher's hands lifted his eyepatch up to his sun bleached hair, the once long dark curls having faded to a dirty blonde long ago. Unknowingly Asher gave her another advantage, being able to see both his eyes and the ways the moved about her features in assessment, noting her jewelry longer than anything else until finally landing on the set of chairs.
Rhonda
The Pirate King, Bradai Maith
The Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper

When he looked at the rum in chalice, he realized had no stomach for it any longer. He had sympathy for children, but this girl had spoiled his appetite. The mess with the Skaggerlies he could understand. It was to his understanding that they made deals with slavers, so what was one child slave abord their ship? She had mentioned belonging to one of the men, probably the one he had imprisoned. He had busied himself with writing down all the information in his ledger, but after only a short while, he quickly came to terms with the fact that he didn't know what she was talking about. A vessel? Good luck? 

When she mentioned just wanting to be loved, he could not help but wrinkle his nose. There was not much more of _that_ kind of talk that he could endure. 

"I do not know 'ow I can 'elp you. I can give you a few warm meals and a bed until someone collects you, vhen put you in tha way uff a good orphanage so no one presses you into bondage, but vhis is no inn, and I do not take in every poor soul vhat wanders fhrough my doors. I'm sorry, but no, I can not 'elp—"

_"Your Majesty..."_ No one had noticed Silas Asgarov rise from his chaise lounge and make his way halfway to the King's throne. He had taken a knee, and his long dark hair cascaded down his shoulders and to hang in loose curls like a black veil. He exposed his pale palms in a show of submission, and his fingers curled slightly as if in prayer. 

"...Allow for me to inspect the girl. I have reason to suspect she may be of interest."

The King grunted again, for he did not like being interrupted, and bid his Seneschal to stand, "Fine, I grant your request."

There was something else in his eyes now, when he looked at the girl. It was more than pity.

"Go now, little Marin, make yourself scarce. You will stay wiff us for as long as my Seneschal sees fit to keep you in 'is..." He had to stop himself from saying _collection._ "Family," He said instead.