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Talia stood above her men, watching them work with a very critical eye. She was their captain, and it was her job to make sure they were doing things properly. One mistake and they could all be dead, drowned by the sea. Indeed, that was how she had lost her sister, but she wouldn’t be so foolish. With a snap, she commanded one man to redo the knots on the sails, able to see from far off just how loose they were. They would have to be checked again before the ship left the port, as she took no risks.
She refused to die without her feet planted firmly on the earth. Any sailor who put that jeopardy would walk the plank.
The past years had been the best of her life, avoiding Father and his controlling nature, seeing the New World in such a way that most of those she left back home would never be able to. Her chances of returning home to stay slimmed by the day. The sea awarded her a freedom she had never known. Despite that, she knew the sea was to be feared as well as revered, and that to die in the waves would be a fate most unpleasant. And even beyond that, this was her ship, her pride and joy. She would not allow some fool to cost her her reputation.
“Captain,” another sailor said, interrupting her thoughts as he came to stand by her side. “A man is requesting an audience with you.”
“Hmm. Where is he?”
“There, ma’am,” he said, gesturing to the dock, where indeed a young man stood. He was looking right at them.
Talia usually didn’t bother with such requests, especially not in familiar land such as Gotham. But there was something about him, some instinct telling her to oblige this one. With a nod, she told the sailor, “Make certain that we have enough rations for the trip,” and walked to the gangplank. The men and women around her swept aside as she passed, the visitor watching her approach.
His clothing spoke of wealth, more than most in the New World had, clean and crisp in a way her men knew nothing of. He appeared European, with dark hair and pale skin, and had an air of regality. His eyes were very blue. Attractive, certainly. If only they had met at the brewery last night.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “What is your business,” she demanded.
“Ah…Captain al Ghul, it is an honor,” he replied, bowing. “My name is Bruce Wayne, and I am here to humbly request passage to…wherever it is you’re heading. I, of course, will pay handsomely for the troubles of my presence.”
Hmm. His money would be nice, of course, but to bring someone so green aboard felt like a less than intelligent move. “I fear you misunderstand what sort of vessel this is, Mr. Wayne. If you were to come onto my ship, you would be put to work, as is only fair.”
He nodded, meeting her eyes head-on. “I understand very well. Maybe I misspoke—I desire to leave these lands for the time being, as soon as I am able to go. Home has become…uninhabitable in an unforseen manner. Of course I will work, if it means I may go along. Anything needed to be done, I’m certain that I can learn how to do it. As it stands, I can haul any goods you might…procure. I am also an experienced with reading maps and stars, and able to write any correspondence you may need sent. If those positions are already filled, I would…well, ma’am, I would simply do anything to get out of here.”
She considered him. His arms were well muscled, true, but she got the sense that he had rarely if ever had to do any kind of work himself. There would most likely be much for him to learn. She warned, “You understand as well that, in the event you cannot provide my ship and myself something of worth, of value, there will be severe consequences.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Is that it, then? You will provide monetary support as well as physical labor?”
He lifted a bag from his satchel, a bag that clinked together with the sound of coins. It was rather large. “Will this suffice?”
Coolly, she flicked her eyes from it to his face. He was grinning, a small thing that she found even more attractive. “Quite. However, I regret to inform you that we have no open beds for you to rest in.”
Dejection crossed his face, and he looked down. “I—oh.”
It was foolish, very foolish, of her to say what she did next, but she couldn’t find it within herself to regret it much. Slowly, she offered, “Unless, that is, you would be…amenable… to sharing my quarters.”
Very few of the sailors aboard her ship had entered her room. She had made it abundantly clear to all the rest it was off limits, and that to enter without her permission would end rather badly. But here she was, offering a space to this man. Foolish indeed, but her gut told her this was the right decision to make. If he was a danger to her or anyone else on the ship, she would have no compunctions about throwing him overboard. In the meantime, at least, she could have some fun with him.
His head lifted, and he scanned her body, the weapons she always had on her person, the way she was standing. he met her eyes. “I would be. That is, I mean, if you are?”
“Indeed, I am.”
He seemed to recognize the challenge in her voice, a smirk on his lips. With a bow of his head, he said, “Then I would be most honored to board your vessel, Captain al Ghul, and provide you and your crew with what services I may offer.”
“Yes,” she murmured, gesturing for him to come aboard finally. “Yes, you would.”