Perrine kept laughing along with Anthony as they turned down the streets of the poorer side of town toward the beach. The smell of the sea was growing stronger each step they took, and Perrine found it was starting to clear her headache, as well as restoring some of her balance. "Yep!" she replied, swinging around a lamppost in a playfully-dramatic manner, and pointed down to the pier, which was lit by what appeared to be a hundred or so lanterns. "It's like that for the ships," she explained and led them toward the nearest dock, "but 'cause there's barely any that come in at night in th'winter, the dockies let me an' the other few of us beachcombers take one or two for night searches." As if on cue, one of the dockhands waved to her and stood up from the barrel fire he and a few others were sitting around. "Training a new fella, Perri?" asked the man, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing up in a small smile, and she grinned and replied, "Indeed, Ro, s'hand over a lantern or two an' we'll be out of your hair." Ro, who Perrine was decently acquainted with, grimaced at how drunk she seemed (which was a decent amount compared to how she usually operated on alcohol) but took down two lanterns anyhow. Perrine patted her pocket to make sure she still had her sooty handkerchief and a box of matches in her pocket (the handkerchief was for drying off a wet wick and the matches were to light it again) and, finding that she did, turned away from the pier with a lopsided salute to Ro. "This way." And they went back to the side road they'd came to the pier on but took a left now, and as the road turned from gravel to hard earth to sandy dirt, fewer and scantier houses began to appear along the path.