Chapter Text
In the heat of the midday sun, Laurance lazily dragged a finger along the counter-top of the Emerald Fang’s built-in stall. It’d been a good while since he’d seen a customer... and good thing, too, or he’d have been caught comically sticking out his tongue with a wince when his finger caught on something sticky. Yech.
He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, telling Aaron Saber to advertise for him. The man was an introvert on a good day and a recluse on any other. Though... Laurance supposed that tide was finally turning, if what he said about that woman was true. Funny, that... he wasn’t expecting Aaron to find someone, much less a maiden, and much, much less before he did!
Oh, well... at least his old friend still seemed confident Laurance could charm anyone, seeing how desperate he was to keep the object of his affections away from the merchant. As if Laurance would try to undercut him like that... he’d made a few unsavory deals in his time on the seas, but love was something to be taken seriously.
A golden glint in his hand caught his eye—somewhere in his musing, he’d picked up a coin and begun to twirl it between his fingers. Wellllll... perhaps there were exceptions? It wasn’t Laurance’s fault the ladies liked a pretty face... and besides, that meant nothing. The woman he’d been charming earlier was married, for Irene’s sake. Laurance had no intent to stake any claim on her. It was a performance that kept eyes on his and coin in his pockets, not love. He’d yet to find that.
With a sigh, he tossed up the coin, caught it, and shoved it into his coat. Seeing as he had no customers, and nothing better to do, he had time enough to clean off that sticky patch...
“LAURANCE!”
The man shot up at his name—banging his head into the counter he’d been looking under for a rag. He rubbed the back of his aching head as he stood up fully.
“Gahh... Malachi, what— Malachi!” Laurance gasped, nearly tripping over himself as he quickly tugged down the curtain for his shop window. Malachi’s eyes were blown wide, and he was quickly looking between Laurance and somewhere behind himself. Too panicked at the thought of someone spotting the haunting of the Emerald Fang to pay any mind to his son’s flightiness, Laurance cried, “What the hells are you thinking, coming out here while the curtain is u—?!”
Uncharacteristically, Malachi interrupted him. “T-there’s a lady DROWNING! Starside!”
Turns out, he had better things to do after all!
“W-what!?” Laurance asked, though he was already shrugging off his coat. He could correct Malachi on ‘starside’ later. “Catch this!”
“W-wait, I—!” Malachi protested as he ran past, but it was too late. The obnoxiously green coat fell straight through the boy and to the ground with a gentle thump and clattering of metal. Waiting a few moments to be sure his father was above deck, Malachi muttered, “damn it.”
“I heard that!” Laurance called back, while scanning the water. It’s not that he cared that much—he knew exactly which sailor’s mouth the boy was getting it from—but it was a matter of principle. He couldn’t have his boy sounding like a street-rat... kid couldn’t even go on the streets. And the better for it; Laurance hadn’t enjoyed his time on them much.
Laurance had more pressing matters to attend to than Malachi’s potty-mouth, though. He propped up one leg on the edge, ready to propel himself into the water. Where, where, whe— there! He didn’t hesitate to dive off the side of the ship when he spotted her: a watery blur of inky black hair and flowing purple fabric. The cool water was refreshing; he loved that coat, but the layers could be a bit much in the sun.
The woman wasn’t any clearer under the water, but Laurance could make her shape out a good ways off and down from the ship. How had she managed to get so deep? It was an odd place to find a woman in flowing clothes as she was. None of that mattered now, though; what mattered was getting the two of them back up to the surface in time. He reached her just as her amber eyes shut, and Laurance thanked an adolescence spent in a seaside town as he kicked them both back up to air.
Laurance was no stranger to diving, but this was deep even for him—as they broke the water, he sucked in a few gasping breaths before swimming them both to shore. The woman was unresponsive, lax in his arms, so he didn’t waste his breath asking for her. He kept a close eye on her, not to admire her beauty—though it was abundant, her soft features complimented by a classically placed mole under her eye—but to keep her head above the water. It wouldn’t do any good if he waterboarded her back to land...
He carefully pulled her up onto the sand, and now, tried to get a response. “Are you with me, lady?” he started, patting a cautious hand against her cheek to stir her. “Miss? Shit.”
Laurance made an effort not to swear in front of women, but it didn’t seem this one was in any condition to hear at the moment.
His own heart pounding, he moved his hand lower, to her neck, to check her pulse; it was faint, but he felt it, which sparked hope. Laurance leaned to bring the side of his face to her mouth and nose. Her breath was noticeable against his wet skin, and he sighed in great relief and relaxed his shoulders. It didn’t seem there was any immediate attention she needed, or any that Laurance could give on the beach.
He gave her one last, “Lass?” that went seemingly unheard. Probably for the best; he’d tried to break his habit of saying ‘lass’ to appear more suave and less pirate. Sometimes, though, it still slipped out... such as when he was staring at a beautiful, unresponsive woman he’d just saved from drowning.
She was hardly dressed, but it wasn’t swimwear... he couldn’t make sense of her apparel. What was she doing so deep in something so... delicate? Not to mention the draping fabric served only to tangle around her legs in the water, making it more difficult to swim...
...Realizing he’d been ogling the poor woman in his confusion for the past minute, Laurance tore his eyes off her, flustered, and turned back to his ship. He couldn’t just leave her on the beach like that... She may need help when she woke, and perhaps worse, who knew what sort of unsavory character might find her? Better to bring her back to his ship and send her on her way once she was back on her feet.
Out of habit, to an unconscious woman, he flirted. “I hope you don’t mind me sweeping you off your feet, my lady.”
As he lifted her from the ground, she didn’t even stir enough to instinctively wrap her arms around his neck... He frowned and adjusted her to rest her head against him, to avoid any more injury to her, and made his way home.
He hoped Malachi was nosy enough to have watched, and subsequently, would be out of sight by the time he arrived with his sleeping beauty.