The Nose Knows

[rassafraggin]

The hold of the Wave Dancer has changed much since she was returned from watery durance vile. Now, she has been beautifully restored with all surfaces properly oiled, buffed and cared for. Maggie is walking along the corridor that leads to the cabins, her expression thoughtful. The measured tread of her boots is a bit hushed as though she walks through cotton or is placing her feet with care. Some of the sailors are sleeping in their bunks, so that might be the cause. Turning at the end of the corridor, she angles toward the galley.

Quinlan makes his way belowdeck, unhooding the end of his staff to let its light guide his steps. "Halloo," he calls. "Looking for the captain..."

From above, a woman shouts, "Hallooooo!" bellows the voice of Cyndre, loudly. "Permission to come aboard!!""

Heavier steps on the spiral staircase leading down in the cargo space presently bring Merrisol into the corridor, making his way along a few paces before he halts in the presence of the unfamiliar staff light. "What.. Lord Quinlan," he stage-whispers, "Good evening to you. I'm not sure.." Then his efforts at keeping the peace are dashed by the resounding yawp from above. "Ah blast.. excuse me, Sir, ah Captain," for he then spies Maggie in the galley/mess entrance. "I'll handle things above." He bounds up the steps.

Horatio waits on the dock near Cyndre.

Cyndre has arrived up the gangplank, standing at the point just before coming aboard. She makes nice with the night watch that the ship has right now, flashing a smile and all. And yes, Horatio is with her.

The door to below decks flies open, causing those few remaining on deck to jump to attention, as Mister Merrisol comes bounding up the steps in response to the recent yawp. He looks back and forth across the lamp-lit deck, and is directed railwards by a pointing sailor. "Ah, Dame Cyndre, good evening to you," he calls, his gaze moving to take in Horatio and any others for a head count. "You are welcome here," he gestures them up as the boarding ramp is made secure by the deckhands.

Horatio lets Cyndre lead the way.

"Thanks, Cap'n. This is my friend and fellow Karm, Lord Horatio. I've brought him round with me to take a look at the ship and get a sense of where to mount the cannon." Cyndre says to Merrisol.

Merrisol steps back, bowing his head in greeting. "Lord Horatio, it's an honour. On board, I go by Mister Merrisol to avoid crew confusion." He directs the watch to increase the wattage of the lighting so that such an inspection can comfortably take place. "Ah yes, right," he recalls to Cyndre, brows rising. "Captain Flame made mention there would be one." He can't help looking a bit excited at the prospect. "I have seen the set aboard the Wandering Duchess.. are those your make, as well, my Lady?"

Horatio seeing how he's introduced follows through with a bow to Merrisol as well. "An honor to meet you as well Mister Merrisol."

"They are not, Mister Merrisol. I have very little to do with the Wandering Duchess, since its Captain... Well, I won't go into that here. But, no." Cyndre replies to the man, shaking her head. "Horatio, why don't you take it from here?"

Horatio comes forward, "Actually, they're of my making. Which is why Lady Cyndre has asked me to assist in this project. We'll be colaborating."

Merrisol stares at Cyndre a moment but then nods like it's not a matter of curiosity at all. "Very good," he states to both of them. "I stand corrected. Captain is below, I'll let her know you're here," he adds, declining to mention how well the Seneschal's bellow carries up ramps and through doors. He waves a sailor over to see to the message while Merri remains with the guests. "As you can see, the Wave Dancer does not have a separate gun deck."

Cyndre steps back, and lets the expert in the matter handle the visit from here.

Horatio says, "Aye, we'll need to take a look around below decks."
A sailor assigned to the night's watch comes down the stairs to politely wait for his moment to speak, then informs the Captain that Dame Cyndre and Lord Horatio are above, inspecting the deck for storm cannon placement, and Mister Merrisol is with them.

Merrisol nods readily to that. "Certainly, Sir, wherever you require access." If Horatio is ready at that moment, the First Mate precedes him below decks to get the crew rousted and out of the way.

Horatio follows right along.

Merri walks down the steps into the corridor, glancing about for Maggie, Quinlan, and the sailor he had recently sent below to alert them. Following him directly is Lord Horatio, however Cyndre seems delayed above, taking a trump call.

Long distance to Shao: Merrisol hopes nothing screws up from him knocking on Shao's door. Lord Horatio's inspecting below decks for cannon placement.

Horatio has followed Merrisol down and looks for the captain.

When the sailor appears in the galley doorway Maggie looks his way. She is standing near a table, steaming mug of coffee left behind. Listening to the fellow, she nods, "Very well, Mr. Higgins. Thank you. Dismissed." Quinlan is given a quick smile and she lifts a shoulder in a shrug, "Apparently, I'm needed." Slipping back out of the galley she moves to intercept Merrisol and Horatio. Spotting them she waves, "Welcome aboard. I am Captain Flame. You must be... Lord Horatio?"

Horatio steps up and nods, "Aye, but you can call me Tio if you wish Ma'am. We're here about an order for cannon?"

Quinlan sniffs the air curiously, perhaps detecting coffee being brewed. "Oh, going full Minosan, huh?" he asks.

Merrisol stops by to explain that the lord requires access to points below deck while calculating cannon installment, before slipping out again to roust the crew and send them above decks. He knocks on Shao's door, receives no answer, and lets himself in to check on the cook.

You paged Shao with 'Sleeping peaceful-like then? Merrisol knocks, waits, then enters to check on him.'.

From afar, Shao is sound asleep in his hammock. The room is otherwise empty.

Maggie glances back at Quin and laughs, "Not... yet. I can't afford all the tricks. But, on the tide? Probably." Turning back to Horatio, she extends her hand, "Good to meet you, Tio. And thank you for coming. Take any measurements you would like. Though I would like an estimate, please? Cyndre did not tell me a price for the cannon."

Horatio shakes his head, "I can't really do that, Cyndre will be making some additional enhancements, and I have no idea what she'll want for those."

Quinlan settles in to his coffee, content to listen for the now. It may be the cannons.

Long distance to Shao: Merrisol goes pokepoke gently, explaining the hold is full of ladies and lords. He probably doesn't want his friend to be embarrassed from being caught sleeping through it.

From afar, Shao half-wakes up, promises he will be there in a moment.

Long distance to Shao: Merrisol pauses, nods, and goes back out, closing the door.

Merrisol ducks as he re-emerges from the little room Shao has claimed for his bunk, and closes the door. He checks around to make sure the rest of the space is cleared, and leaves the rest of the rooms open for inspection.

Maggie tilts her head slightly, then nods, "Very well. I will ask her then. Thank you. Where would you like to be to take your measurements, please?" She turns to look over toward Quin, "The galley is there, cargo hold over there and crew bunks here." With each designation she points from one spot to another to the third. Merrsol is given a smile and a nod of thanks.

Horatio looks around, poking into the cabins and spaces. He pulls out a notebook and a string to take measurements and sketches. "You'll be mainly losing cargo space, and the associated revenue. Planning on seeing some action?"

Maggie follows the man around to help hold the tape measure and get anything needed. She shrugs at the question, "Oh. One never knows." Which is not exactly the correct answer, but there is a hint of hesitation in her tone. "I lost my memory, you see. But, still, I made a note in a journal from that time that I needed to order one. So, I am. But, I did not make a not of why I wanted one. Careless, I know."

Merri lingers by the stairs. He glances restively at Shao's door, waiting for him to come out, then shakes his head bemusedly and goes to the galley to check on the coffee situation.

Quinlan has his coffee, at least. He's got it in both hands, in case it might try running away.

Horatio knocks on boards, listening and jotting down his impression. "It's a good sized vessel so we won't have to take out any of your exisiting structural supports. There will of course need to be gun ports cut and cradles for mounting built by carpenters."

Maggie nods as she moves with the engineer. Or gunsmith. Cannonsmith? "Oh, of course. Once I get the specs from you, I have an excellent fellow on tap." Finally, she tucks her hands into her pockets and sighs, "It will be nice to have it installed. Before we ship out again, if possible. Certainly before Caine decides it is 'sink the niece' day." Nibbling her lower lip, she watches a moment or two more, "So... As a guesstimate, how long do you think it will take?"

Quinlan blinks. "...Not that Caine's not capable of random pointless violence, but he'd need a reason better than a whim before he attacked you. It'd upset Brand."

You paged Quinlan with 'Since the whole amnesia bit is supposedly a work of chaos, is that considered a magical effect? Either way, I'd say there was a type of transformation magic afoot, permanent, going back more than a month, on Merrisol himself. He's also still got that magically sealed envelope on his person. The red coat has likely been magicked in the past year for enhanced cleanliness and colour-fade protection. :D'.

Merrisol putters in the kitchen, humming to himself. It is very badly off-key. How exactly does one screw up humming?

Horatio leaning on a crossbar, "I'd say three, four weeks for the carpentry. About two days for the mounting. Few more days for testing and sighting. Call it six weeks before you'd be ready to sail. That's if Cyndre's work dosen't slow down the casting of the cannons themselves."

Maggie glances over her shoulder at Quin and sighs, "Well... I was talking to him in dad's study and told him that if he is fighting another captain but he controls the weather, the sea and the minds of his opponents, he was indulging in maritime masterbation." Looking back at Horatio, she nods, "Six weeks give or take. Thanks. I think we'll have to risk going out without it at least a few times then. To be able to pay for it." Because she is not going to ask Brand to pay for it, apparently. Calling over her shoulder, then, "Hey, Mr. Merrisol? Would you mind letting Quin have a look at your waistcoat, please?"

You paged Quinlan with 'Involves physical alteration, though not with an aim at subterfuge or deception. The sense is that the transformation involved taking on more of everything. Superficial non-magic observation is that the coat is a tight fit (+hooks kerf's waistcoat).'.

Quinlan smiles. "I'd like you to wear gloves when you bring it over, if that's okay?"

You paged Quinlan with 'Though, as to Target, the magic had effected more than one target, but Merrisol is the only person left in the equation. I don't know how specific to get, you can spin it any way you like though.'.

Merrisol pokes his head into the galley, glancing between the entrance and the seated lord. "Aye Captain," he starts hesitantly, frowning vaguely as Quinlan specifies the gloves. "Ah.. uh, of course, Sir." He ducks back into the mess to locate some general use gloves, then strips out of the coat. He walks over to the table with it held crime-scene specimen style, for Quinlan.

Horatio nodding, heads back towards the ships ladder, "Alrighty then. Do you want us to comence on the forging or wait for your word?"

Quinlan laughs quietly. "I get uncomfortable at sirs, you know," he says, and studies the waistcoat. He even sniffs at it, carefully. Possibly determining what detergent keeps it so clean. "Hm. Okay, I think you can handle it," he says thoughtfully. "Try it on?"

Glancing over her shoulder toward the Galley, Maggie pauses, waits, then turns to follow Horatio toward the stairs. "Oh, please do, Tio. I am anxious for it to be completed." Her steps remain soft, though not silent as she moves. The whisper of leather on wood marks her passage, "Is there anything that you need before hand? A surety or anything? Downpayment?"
Horatio shakes his head, smiling. "Not for myself, you may want to ask Cyndre about that."

Merrisol watches Quinlan a bit stupidly as he works, just mystified by the behavior and purpose. He looks around to the doorway again, when it comes to the sniffing. Maaaaaggiiiie, your cousin's being weird again.. Then he turns back to consider the request narrow-eyed, removes the gloves first, then shrugs back into the waistcoat. "Certainly, Ssss-Quinlan." Squinlan! Leaving it open, he does a brief TA-DA flourish for the mageling.

Maggie nods and moves toward the stairs, "Alright then. She is above?" Still her attention keeps diverting to the Galley. Perhaps a part of her hears that silent call and the comlaint that her cousin is being... Well... her cousin. With a slight sigh, she returns as much of her attention as she can to Horatio, "Shall we go up and speak to her?"

Horatio starts climbing, and pauses, "She took a trump call, so we may have to wait a while."

Quinlan sniffs the air again - he must be really *odd* when he's got a cold - and nods slowly. "Thanks," he says, in a tone that suggests he knows exactly how weird this looks and is glad for lack of comment. "Okay. You want my findings written, Maggie?"

Pausing, Maggie looks up past Horatio then turns, "Let's not bother her, then. We can finalize things later. Would you like some coffee, Tio? Do you know my cousin? I know you met Mr. Merrisol above." Reaching the bottom of the stairs again, she walks across toward the galley. She does not catch the TA-DA, but those arm positions are pretty telling. She stifles a smile, then nods to Quin's query. "Please. And thank you, Quin. I owe you one." Her mug, no longer steaming, sits on the table and she calls back, "Or, tea? Shao-san keeps a fair amount of tea around."

Quinlan laughs quietly. "By now you're nearing half a dozen, Maggie," he says, tugging out a notebook and liberating a page to write on.

Horatio hops back down and nods, "Yes, might as well. Some coffee would be fine."

Merrisol lowers his arms and nods acknowledgement to Quinlan, any attempt at making light of the oddness now fled. Standing rather still, he takes in the exchange with Maggie with a darting glance here and there, then presently nods to himself. "If you'll excuse me, I'll get the crew sorted for a new watch and the rest back to their bunk, shall I, Captain?" he explains with casual civility, before bowing his head to the company in general, and walking out with his gaze straight ahead.

Quinlan busily writes his notes on the page, finally blowing it dry, folding it, and passing it to Maggie. "There you go," he says. "I think I've done my weird for the day."

Maggie nods to Merrisol, an apology or sympathy in her gaze, "Thank you. Please." She walks back with a mug of coffee poured from the pot on the stove. This is set down for Horatio with an addes, "Sugar is there." She points to a small dish on the table, "and milk is in the icebox." That gets a flicker of a glance back toward the pantry. Leaning over then she accepts the paper from Quinlan, "Half a dozen what? And thanks for the wierd, Quin. Oh. I owe you half a dozen?" She chuckles as she opens the page to scan it, "Oh, at least.

Horatio grabs the mug and takes a slug, "Thanks Ma'am."

Merri starts doing up the front catches to the jacket as he ascends. The door is heard shutting, followed by the fainter sounds of shouty. Maybe Cyndre. Possibly Merrisol. Nah, it's Cyndre.

Quinlan gives maggie a friendly nod, and Merrisol a rueful 'magic, go fig' shrug. Getting to his feet, he takes his staff in hand, and says, "It's kind of late. I'd best get to my bed. Let me know how things turn out, or if you need me again."