Mary slid into the chair unslinging the longarm and leaning in againist the table.  "Martin Nash.  the big fellow, he's not from these parts."  She grinned, widely and whitely,  "Ask him his monicker, I'll just mangle it,  Arouj something gargled. is the best I can do."  She topped a farthing at the waitress, took a good pull from her drink.  Cheap stuff, not quite vile, she had drunk worse, but it would be a challenge to pin down when.<br/><br/>It was beginning to dawn on her that this might be a tad unusual place as taverns go.  The crowd, a lot of men here who seemed, well, unduly interested in other men...  not that the tavern girls didn't get a fair amount of mauling from drunkards.  They were free with their slaps in defense, open handed or gripping mugs, whatever seemed to do the trick.<br/><br/><br/>She took another pull from the mug.  "I do my fighting from a distance, not the huskiest brute aboard a ship.  Keep the range open, look for officers, take 'em down, that's the plan for me."  "She gave him a level look.  "I can handle meself in the rigging, stay alive, keep those around me alive.  Anybody can fight, but how many can jump ratlines in a storm without falling?  I can."