<div class="floatleft">(https://static.wixstatic.com/media/991d95_6c974e23fa7e44ecb43d0d28de6e2cfc~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_876,h_701,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01/991d95_6c974e23fa7e44ecb43d0d28de6e2cfc~mv2.webp)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Rachel Reade<br/><strong>Position:</strong>Able seaman<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Esperanza / At Sea<br/><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong>Day 1 | Afternoon<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Arvad, Marisol, Open<br/><strong>Mentions:</strong>Nancy<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Discovery<br/><hr/><br/>Pulling up short, Rachel let out a breath, "Bloody hell, you're like a cat!"    She shook her head and then stepped off to grab the lamp from the hook, and then started back toward the wounded man.   "Appears he's hit his head."    Moving around the crate this time, rather than over it, Rachel crouched down beside the man, the lamp brought near.   "How many fingers am I holding up?"  And yes, she waved three fingers in front of his face.   "It looks to be swollen outward, which is good."    She shot Marisol a glance.   "The goose egg on his head."    Yes, she was going to nip in the bud any potential witty commentary before it had a chance to flourish.<br/><br/>"You look a little too well dressed to be a sea hand."   She looked back at Marisol.   "Thought the fancy pants with the captain was the only gentleman we were taking aboard?"   Of course that didn't explain why he was down here.   Pulling her dagger, she tugged his shirt free of his trousers and cut a small bit of the bottom of it off.    He'd never miss it, right?    Sheathing her blade, she spit on the bit of cloth and gently started cleaning up the blood around the wound.   "I don't suppose you could spare a bit of wine for the man?"   She glanced at Marisol between dabs of the cloth on the man's head.