Post by Jade on Dec 30, 2020 18:31:44 GMT -5
"Thought you could try to sneak on our ship, huh?" The bulky man tossed the auburn-haired girl back onto the dock and then crossed his arms. "Sorry, but we've got a strict 'no stowaways' policy."
The little girl pulled herself up, dusted off her white coat, readjusted her satchel, and then placed her hands on her hips to glare up at the much larger man. "Alright, jeez! I wouldn't want to sail with a brute like you anyway!" She turned on her heels and started walking away, grumbling to herself as she navigated the busy docks of Port Hardknock. "It's not like I was trying to get a free ride or anything..."
"So, as long as we keep our distance from the whirlpools, it should be smooth sailing into the port," Sayuri repeated what Guy had told them the day prior. "And no, we aren't sailing close to them just to 'take a look', got it? Not while I'm the only able to drag you three hammers out of the water.""Awwwww..."
With Treelore's primary port in sight, the dual decks of the tiny Whiskey Runner and Guy's house-boat were pretty active. Sayuri stood in the open doorway into Guy's living space, pulling a long tan jacket on over her undecorated black shirt and pants as she gave out orders to the crew - because if she didn't, it was almost guaranteed that they'd do something stupid. "Let's just try to make it in the island in one piece without tempting fate, okay?" The eyepatch-wearing woman sighed, stepping out onto the house-boat's deck and letting the door into the cabin area shut behind her. "We got lucky enough that we had good weather sailing here."
Harley, with her mane of black hair pulled back and up in a messy ponytail and dressed in a yellow tank-top with an orange sun decal stretched out over her chest, a pair of jean shorts that seemed to be intentionally frayed at the bottom, and her typical wooden sandals, was set up on the Whiskey Runner's deck with another stone firepit and grill she'd constructed using her Devil Fruit, grilling fish she'd caught the day prior. Every so often, she'd stop to look up at the island they were approaching, admiring the trees that dwarfed the dark brick buildings of the port.
"Fiiiiiiine," the beefy woman groaned, and then grabbed one of the partially-grilled fish with her bare hand in order to flip it over on the hot, flat slab of stone. She wiped her hand off on a cloth she had tucked into her shorts, and then proudly put her hands on her hips and raised her voice to make her announcement: "Lunch should be ready once we've docked, gang!"