A few of them had rowed to shore a matter of hours ago.  Just a small landing party consisting of Jenks the First, Bauldry, and Vigdis.  They each knew their role and tasks.  This was a routine landing.  Get provisions and extra funds and leave.  They had 36 hours.  Having landed in the middle of the night, they were down twelve hours.

Vigdis took on the role of a young gentry woman.  She wore a dress and jacket of matching azure, and pale yellow blouse.  While not knowing exactly how to tie up her curls, she managed to do so under a wide brimmed hat.  Originally, the dress had been stolen.  Vigdis worked hard to make it something more than what it seemed.  Lined with tiny pockets and places to hide things, it became the guise she needed to pinch a few pockets.  

The fair was the perfect location to pick up a few things here and there.  It was busy and noisy and no one was paying that close attention.  Vigga hummed a merry tune often sung on the Crimson Ghost as she meandered through the crowds.  An impish smile pursed her lips as she took in the sounds and the smells.  Oh the smells!  The wafting scents of fresh made carnival foods made her stomach gurgle.  Pressing a lace gloved hand to her stomach, she found herself stopped in front of a funnel cake vendor.  

Dark, bright eyes turned away from the vendor and her mouth became more stern.  She needed a mark, someone who wasn’t paying any attention at all.  She only needed a couple pounds to satiate her hunger for now.  Then she could really get to work.  Someone with an open jacket, easier access to their billfold.  It didn’t take long.  A gentleman was nearby, perusing the sea of women.  Vigga’s first impression was that he wasn’t there for the fair or the food.  He wanted something more carnal.  Given the way he parted his hair over his balding dome, no one seemed to take notice of him.  Vigga didn’t see a wedding band either.  Not married, and as homely as he appeared, he was bound to have a few extra monies that he wouldn’t notice missing.  

Deciding to take an indirect route, Vigga wound her way around until she was walking toward the mark.  She kept her face and eyes on the attractions to the side as she walked directly into the older man.  Quick, deft fingers pressed against his chest.  One hand slipped inside and found exactly what she was looking for.

“Oh, pardon me,” Vigga squealed in surprise as she pulled away.  Crumbling a couple of the bills in her hand, she patted down the man’s jacket as if trying to straighten it for him.  “Oh dear, oh dear. I am so sorry.  I should haven’t allowed myself to be so distracted.”  Taking a step back, she pretended to straighten her own jacket and slipped the crumbled bills into a secret pocket.  “Please, sir, forgive me.”

She didn’t want to stay too long in one place.  She knew she didn’t smell like the ladies with their perfumes.  The sea and the wind was so entwined in her curls, she didn’t think she’d ever get it out and that it’d surely give her away.  Before the man could say much of anything, Vigga skipped along toward the funnel cake vendor.  Surely, she had managed to get enough.  


Stepping up to place her order, she un-folded the bills and found that she was just shy of what she needed to get her prize.  "Blimey..."

Not wanting to scout the fair, he remembered he had money to make or he would be out on his ass on the street. Marcus dragged his feet all the way from his inn room and made his way to where all the excitement was. He curled his lip a little as he watched children, sticky with sweets, run around in hyperactivity, glad that he wasn't a father that he knew of. Too many children, ugh.

But then someone caught his eye. It was a little known fact that Marcus Tillman had an eye for beauty. Of course, with the way he thought he looked, he didn't think there was a snowball's chance in hell that someone like the blonde he peered at now would give him the time of day. Unless, he thought, she was a lady of the night. He would not make the same mistake as he had before anyway, curling his toes in lust toward a pretty bit of fabric.

The private eye let his gaze roam over her, eyes hooded to mask the appreciation he had for her fine features. And then his brow began to raise as he witnessed the scene before him. Now most people would think that it was a mere accident being witnessed, but as he squinted a bit, he saw the crumpled bills in her hand. Aha, he thought, so she was no innocent beauty to be gazing upon, but a thief!

Did he care??

The sad fact was that he didn't. It wasn't like he was the law, after all. He was but a private investigator working for chump change, barely able to pass through each day without being kicked out on his arse. No, he didn't give two shits that this woman just blatantly stole from some poor schmuck. The Londoner snorted. Why should he care?

He had other things to do. He was about to turn away, when the very devil spoke in his ear... He squinted again at the beauty, then decided to follow her. So what if she was the most interesting thing to happen to him all day? Perhaps it was because she fascinated him.

Vigdis pouted as she stood near the vendor, not quite able to obtain her prize. It was just a funnel cake. Did she really need it right now? She was supposed to be working, to be grifting. Her stomach growled again as she tried to convince herself she didn’t need the sweets. With a sigh, she decided she needed the sweets. The stomach wanted what the stomach wanted and who was she to deny herself something. If there was one thing she learned on the Crimson Ghost, it was that if you wanted something, you took it. Sometimes by any means necessary.

Glancing down at her skirts, she shuffled them slightly. Begging wouldn’t do. Sure, she could bat her pretty eyes and probably get what she needed, but if she was truly to play the part of Gentry, begging would be beneath her. Those big dark eyes scanned the vendor once more. Perhaps she could just lift a platter of the cake itself and keep the money for herself. Win-win, perhaps? Stepping to the side, the pretended to look elsewhere, while keeping a side eye on the vendor. No, they were handing out the dishes as they were ordered. It wasn’t like a pie sitting on the windowsill. She couldn’t just snatch one and get away with it so easily.

Then it hit her. Vigga knew exactly what she needed to do. She was young enough and didn’t have a wedding ring. She just needed another mark. Crashing into someone again wouldn’t do. No, she’d need a willing participant. Short heels clicked as she started walking slowly, making her way through the crowds. The noise was exciting and so foreign to her. Being on land was almost more of an adventure than being at sea. After walking for a bit, her eyes settled on Marcus. He seemed to be looking her way. Had he been watching her? One way to find out. By the looks of him, he was probably a carouser and may already be in the drinks.

“Pardon me, Mister,” Vigga spoke softly. It took effort to speak in the way the Captain had taught her when she played this role. Ladies didn’t speak like pirates. They enunciated their words and kept their chin up. “My papa only gave me a half of my allowance for the fair and I fear I’ve spent some and now don’t have enough for a funnel cake. I do so dearly want one. Would you perhaps have some coin I can borrow? We will be back to the fair in four days and I can repay you out of the rest of my allowance.” Grey Rob had spent a good deal of time reading to Vigdis, without actually teaching her to read. She was quick and clever and learned the vocabulary. She just hoped he didn’t catch it here and there when her accent wasn’t perfect.

A brow lifted as he saw she was trying to pay for pastry with her stolen money. Served her right that there wasn't enough money to buy such frippery. Marcus almost snorted, but then he stopped himself. He was about to turn around and walk away, get back to his job so he could get his money sooner, rather than later. He paused first to place a cheroot into his mouth, started to pat around for his matches, and then blinked as the woman honed in on him.

Hah, the joke was on her, he thought. In fact, he started to chuckle. He let his eyes move from her head to her toes and back up again. "Ye're barkin' up the wrong tree, lass. I've less money than ye've just now fallen into." With that, he stepped back into the shadows of the nearest booth, leaning his back against the wall and propping one foot up. He found the matches, lit one, and started to inhale smoke.

Her soft smile turned into a bit of a pout. The man turned out to be more of a vagabond than she was, it seemed. She was probably just lucky that the first mark had something to lift. Couldn’t win every time. The game would be too easy and she’d get bored. Bored Vigga was never a good thing. The girl was far too curious and it wasn’t uncommon for her to get herself into trouble simply because she let her feet carry her where her curiosity ran. Captain Grey Rob often said she needed to curb that in, or it’d be the death of her. And then turn around and show her something knew to set that flame back even hotter than before.

Vigdis was turning away from him, but then his words clicked. Just now fallen into… He knew. He saw her pick that pocket. Her big doe eyes turned a bit darker as they settled back on his face once again. Her steps moved with him as he sauntered into the shadow of the booth. “Ye’ve been watchin’ me, huh? But din’ make fuss, eh Bucko?” Vigdis dropped the fake english accent and fell flawlessly into the sea-faring dialect that came so much easier to her. It was a gamble to call him a friend as she did.

Normally when someone catches another in the act of plundering, they call the authorities. This man didn’t. From the air about him, he didn’t seem to give two shits. Now she was curious. “Mayhaps we run a rig?” Vigdis had no idea if the man was from the area or just visiting like she. There was hope that he knew a bit more of the layout and could end up being an ally.

"I'm a private eye," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nostrils. "It's what I do. I watch people." He let his eyes go half-mast and stared at her for a moment. "Ye're not who I am lookin' fer and I know what it's like to be hungry. I am hungry now, girl." He inhaled smoke sharply before pushing off the wall and moving close but not inappropriately so. "Ye're a distraction fer someone like me, nothing more. But ye know that, dressed as ye are and looking as pretty as a picture. At least I am guessing ye know anyway." He tipped his hat and started walking, saying over his shoulder with the thought that she would keep moving with him. There was an unspoken invitation for her to join him, yet he didn't say it out loud because he also didn't give a shit.

A pretty slip of fabric could get him into loads of trouble, he thought. "Ye'd better be careful around these parts. There are more people like ye than ye think. Whitby has a whole town full of miscreants, I've come ta learn."

Well, he did it. He said words in a phrase that she had no idea that went together. Private eye. He wasn’t wearing an eye patch so both his eyes were visible. Neither were private. The confusion crossed her face as easily as it crossed her mind. Then he added the part about watching people. “Private eyes watch people in secret?” The first two words were spoken slowly, as if they were foreign to her. Vigdis was not stupid. She wasn’t slow. The poor girl had been raised by wolves, so to speak. She never had a proper education. Hell, she didn’t even know how to read or write.

The girl didn’t even know that she was much of a beauty like he spoke. There weren’t many mirrors aboard the Crimson Ghost, nor did she have many standards to compare. There had been a few women here and there but none stayed on the ship too long. And they were usually heavily perfumed and overly powdered. If anything, that’s what Vigdis thought pretty women were supposed to look like. They were the ones that got the attention from the crewmen.

Marcus started to walk away, still speaking to her. There was no thought as to whether or not she should follow him. Vigdis simply did. “More people like me would make this a lot easier,” she commented. “Ye needn’t worry ‘bout me. Not from them at least.” No, it was the socialites that worried her. They fought with their tongues, not their swords. She could hold her own in fistcuffs. But a battle of the wits, she knew she was lacking. “So tell me, Bucko, how do we get that funnel cake if neither of us have the cash for it?” Vigdis really was hungry.

He blinked at her question. Did she not know? "Ah, uh, a private eye is a private investigator. I am hired to look fer things and people 'cause the constables can't always solve a case. So yes... I sometimes watch people in secret." He gave a shrug, puffed on the cheroot and then scratched one ass cheek without thought. "I just was lookin' fer someone else when I saw ye. But don't worry, I don't make it a habit of turnin' pretty young skirts into the constables just fer bein' hungry enough ta steal."

He turned a corner. "I don't know about ye gettin' any funnel cake today, miss. There might be enough coin ta get ye some porridge from one of the nearby inns." He gave another shrug, stopped, and looked at her. "I'd be happy ta show ye where it is, but ye'd be on your own fer food after that of course." And he wasn't asking for her help to feed him either. He would probably steal a pie from someone's window later.

A smirk danced across Vigdis’ features when he mentioned the ineptitude of the constables. As a professional pirate and thief, she understood that sentiment. It didn’t click with that maybe this guy might be hired to investigate her. There was an almost child-like aura to Vigga. Like she never quite had to grow up. “Ye get paid to sneak ‘round?” Hell, she’d probably be a damn good private investigator. Vigga thought of herself as quite skilled in sneaking. Growing up on a pirate ship, climbing all around it, she was quite adept at scaling things and being quiet when necessary.

“Ah, matey,” Vigdis tugged on his arm and stopped her steps, hoping he’d stop for a moment too. “I want cake.” There really hadn’t been anyone in her life to tell her no, shouldn’t couldn’t have something she wanted. In fact, it had been overly encouraged to take what she wanted. “How ‘bout a gamble?” a bit of laughter traced the edges of her voice. They were standing near a large oval arena. “Ye go ‘round that side. I’ll go ‘round this and meet back here. Whichever scallywag pinches the most pounds win and we both get cake.”

He blinked at her when she seemed to tug at his arm and turned to face her. He flicked the half-smoked object onto the ground and stepped on it to smother the cherry. "Aye, I get paid to sneak around," he rumbled. He then looked at her with some surprise as she started talking about a plan to go around stealing money. "I won't stop ya, but I won't join ye either, lass." His eyes crinkled at the corners and he gave a grin, "Been a time since I've been asked to join a lass in fun," he said with a wink that may or may not come off as creepy with the way he thought he looked, but too late now.

He folded his arms over his chest and went on to say, "I won't take yer food from ye either, I'll find my own." He intended on digging through the garbage because he was hungry enough to do so, not wanting to take food out of the mouth of someone who may or may not be much hungrier than he was.