Sebastillian was in the middle of the ocean tumbling beneath the icy waves of the northern shoals. The salt water burned his nose and throat as he inhaled. His limbs struggled to pull his head above the water, the first breaths of icy cold water burned all the more sweetly than the water before. He panted and sank beneath the water again. His tired arms pulled him again, muscles protesting vehemently against exertion. He found a piece of wood and clung to it, pulling himself atop it.<br/><br/>Then he felt someone kick his foot. That was a weird thing to have happen in the middle of his recurring nightmare. Almost as strange as the moment of lucidity in his night terror. He looked up from his jetsam and saw a giant purple dragon swooping down on him. His dream self gave a world-weary sigh and extended his hand making a very rude gesture toward the dragon. If he was going to get eaten, he wasn't going to be polite about it. Little did he know his physical self in the realm of the waking was doing the same gesture. Another kick and he was fully back in the waking world.<br/><br/>He saw the purple lady knight from the tavern in the wan light of the city's lanterns behind her. "How about no, and you let me sleep." He grunted rolling himself over. He smelled the tar on his lines burning. "Hey," he mumbled, sitting up. He felt the boat slosh away from the pier. "Sure," he spat, "I'll take you wherever you want to go." His voice dripped acid.<br/><br/>He grabbed his boat hook And pushed it against the dock and his boat moved further away from her. "Here's my plan. You stay here and I let this boat drift for the night, and guess what? In the morning you want be around me to bother me." He was a natural-born sailor, he would be fine. He'd gone adrift several times and he'd always found his way back to shore. "Maybe this should remind you that you don't get to tell a free man where he will sail you, especially when you wake him up and don't even offer any money. I ain't nobody's errand boy."<br/><br/>He was still in range of the pierce, but each bobbing wave pulled him farther and farther away. He smirked at her and crossed his arms. Who did she think she was Lady Sir Lucia Whatever." What did she even want. It certainly wasn't to say thank you for helping her out in the bar. Still, whatever her reasons some bloody manners would go a long way to making her tolerable, especially with the headache he was sporting.<br/><br/><br/>