The few hours before dawn always felt the longest. Braun continued to go out of his way to time it, so convinced was he that somehow their shift gained a few extra hours tacked on through some supernatural means. Which was absolutely ridiculous, of course, it was just the lack of sleep mixed with the quiet boredom so unique to the twilight hours- But at this point even Davis was starting to wonder if the ticking of the old brass pocket watch was slowing down, making each and every second take even longer to pass by.

"Will you put that damn thing away, it's driving me bloody mad."

"Oh sod off, if I don't stare at something I'll nod right off!"

While a valid complaint, it wasn't one Davis had much sympathy for right now.

"If you're that bloody sleepy maybe you should go take a run around the boat then. Get a good morning jog in."

"Har har."

"I'm serious! You could even hop over to the docks over there. Maybe help out the early birds with their hauls."

"Yeah right, like the fisherman would even let me near-"

Davis blinked, looking up from his book to stare at Braun's startled expression, gaze still fixed over the other man's shoulder at the civilian docks across the way from them.

"What?" Davis craned his neck around himself, squinting at the tiny fishing shanties barely visible in the pre-dawn light. Nothing looked out of the ordinary to him, but he also wasn't the experienced sailor Braun was, for all the old coot's faults.

"That's a kid."

"What's a kid, the hell are you on about?"

It took more than a little gesticulating, far more swearing than was probably necessary, and some very creative insults, but what would have otherwise been a brewing argument was successfully diverted into a lesson in spyglass use, and had Davis finally catching sight of what Braun had in fact been on about.

"Huh. It is a kid. A girl by the looks of it. That's bloody weird, innit? No parents in sight, but she clearly knows what she's doing. Looks a deft hand at setting sail all on her own, too."

He'd been just about to signal the little dinghy if only to ask her if she was alright, when the little spitfire looked up from securing her cargo to notice the two men's attention on her- And promptly flipped the both of them off.

They both snorted, shaking their heads at her, before going back to their post with a vague air of amused resignation. Any help would clearly be unwanted, and they knew better than to butt in where they weren't welcome.

An hour passed, and Braun was audibly counting down the last few minutes of their shift when he was interrupted by the very recognizable thud of their Captain swinging himself up onto the deck, and while it wasn't unheard of for him to return alone or ahead of the others, the cheerful bickering just barely audible in the distance was a pretty clear indication that this wasn't one of those times.

"Huh. Guess they're back early."

Going by how disheveled the whole lot of them were, along with the vicious cheer the quartermaster seemed to be all but radiating, it seemed their little expedition had failed quite successfully.

Which made their Captain's strange and thoughtful silence all the more unsettling.

"What's wrong, Boss?"

"...I." Their Captain flexed his fingers, looking over the new bruises across his knuckles with a distant sort of fascination. "...Ran into someone I wasn't expecting to see."

There was clearly more to it than that, but it was hardly their place to push, so Braun shrugged and let it go in favor of giving their watch's report, for all that it amounted to bugger all.

Well. Bugger all and a weird kid, the latter of which Braun wouldn't have bothered to mention, but Davis did, if only to have something unusual to remark upon at all.

Going by how quickly that caught their Captain's attention however, it was probably a good thing he had. They did their best to answer the questions he had, but apart from being able to point in the rough direction her boat had headed off in, they didn't really have any of the insight he was clearly hoping for.

Which was what made his last question feel all the more significant.

"...did she seem alright?"

Braun and Davis looked at each other, raised eyebrows saying what words could not as they took in their Captain's absent gaze off into the distance, eyes both too sharp and a thousand miles away, his brow slightly furrowed and fingers flexing absently. The two men took it all in, sighed, and looked at each other once more before shaking their heads.

In the strange way that seafaring traditions were often born, it had become a sort of running joke aboard the Albatross for all the "true" members to have the names of various birds as a sort of nickname or handle.

It had started with the quartermaster, in what had undoubtedly been an actual codename of Bluebird; overheard quite accidentally during one of their quartermaster's "monthly reports." Who, exactly, these reports were to was unknown, past it being a long-known and well-trusted ally, and it likely would have been forgotten just as quickly as all the previous had been if it weren't for the fact that the errant eavesdropper had been quite drunk at the time, and absolutely tickled pink at just how well he felt the handle fit.

Bluebirds were bright, colorful, vain, and seen as bringers of joy as much as they were carriers of precious, secret information. Not a single member could deny that the image fit their dandy quartermaster as well as his silk gloves, if not better.

Next had come Raven; The loyal shadow that followed their Captain and his brothers around. While always quick with a smile, a laugh, or a helping hand, getting any sort of information out of her was a game never won. The woman could talk you in a circle until you were dizzy, and still leave you feeling so flattered that you would be thanking her for the dance as she walked away. It could easily be days later before someone would even realize she'd deftly avoided answering even the slightest of questions about her own person.

Ravens were famous tricksters across countless legends, associated as easily with death as they were mystery, and yet consistently, fervently loyal to any human who showed them a steadfast kindness. As the crew had yet to get any hint as to what her actual name could be, their only clues to who she was were what they had observed with their own eyes, the nickname had stuck. While she'd never said as much, the growing frequency with which the clever corvid would appear in her beautiful, (if grotesquely detailed at times...) art made the crew fairly confident that she approved.

The first mate gained the title of Cardinal during a bar fight of all things, though perhaps that shouldn't be surprising. The man had a temper like a powder keg, perfectly safe until that first fool spark. Months could go by of him being the voice of reason, a natural leader and a wonderful teacher, and then some strange tide would turn and all at once it would seem as if getting into fights were almost a hobby for him. Especially if some fool was daft enough to insult one of the Albatross's members within his hearing, or even worse; ignore Raven's polite disinterest in favor of continued attempts at gaining her attention.

Cardinals were a seasonal bird of bright vivid coloration, sweet songs for their family alone, and an unrepentant territorial aggression.

Even his brothers agreed it was a perfect fit.

The Captain himself, however, had taken quite a bit longer to find a good fit for. There had been plenty of half-serious discussions over ale about what could be a good fit, a few ideas sparked by a fevered moment, only to be spurned by another. It had taken so long to find a nickname that even remotely felt right that the crew had just about given up- When finally, one sleepy evening, Davis had let out a loud bark of a laugh, as startled as it was drunk, and began waving the book he'd been perusing at the bar around in the air with a loud cry of "I've got it!"

The entire tavern craned their necks to look. The book was one of Raven's, a slim thing filled with old wives' tales and Raven's thorough debunking of them. What possible name such a notebook could inspire left them all scratching their heads, until Davis grinned and read the page aloud.

Owl.

A bird of prey so regal and majestic in its patient stillness, and so ruthless in its hunting, that many attributed great wisdom and cunning to the birds, often to the point where they were considered Sages in some areas.

"They're dumbasses."
"What?"

Davis's grin only grew in size, before pulling an obvious page of notebook paper from amongst the bound parchment, and with all the theatrical might the disgraced bard could procure, read out Raven's amused observations.

"While possessing a near preternatural intuition for hunting, it seems many fall to the error of mistaking a well honed instinct for intelligence. Nothing could be farther from the truth, however. They are easily outwitted, a fact any prey they set their sights on must make best use of if they are to have any chance to escape."

His performance garnered a few snickers, and enough votes for the name to be official that it likely could have been settled with that alone. However, the next page had been too good not to share, and easily sent what had been an amused voting into a unanimous agreement.

Do not let the owl's foolish and at times even lovably clumsy nature set you at ease however. There is still a reason why certain reckless civilizations see them as omens of death, even to this very day. Swift, silent, and startlingly efficient when needs must, the owl is never to be underestimated; Especially if there is a nest nearby. This predator's pragmatism will vanish in a blink if it believes for even a moment that its chicks may be threatened, and will quickly turn to something quite terrifying and deadly if one is foolish enough to grant it the chance.

The crew of The Crimson Albatross were a lot of things. Merchants, refugees, Revolutionaries, deserters, outcasts, hell, Davis would bet his left arm that Raven was an ex-assassin (Questionably on the ex part); But not a one of them were fools.

Which is why the possibility of lying never even crossed their minds.

"Did she look alright?" Braun repeated, almost disbelieving. "Bink's sake, Boss, that kid couldn't have been more than what, ten, twelve?"

Their Captain seemed to come back to himself a little more at that, and turned to frown at them in obvious puzzlement, even as the present started to crowd the dullness of the past out of his eyes.

"No, Captain." Davis finally says, knowing the simple answer was the one that had been needed from the start. "Not even a little bit."

Owl took that in, and then nodded, as if to himself, as if in finality, as if a doubt left too long unchecked had finally been quelled, and both men could only grin and snap to attention as every trace of hesitation in their Captain burned away, leaving only a cold and determined defiance behind.

"Follow her."

"Aye aye, Captain!"

They didn't say a word past what was needed to set the Albatross moving, just grinned and shook their heads, sharing knowing looks with the others as they all set to work. They all knew what it looked like when their Captain had decided that someone was his now, and what exactly that meant.

They might not know who exactly had hurt that particular little redheaded chick, or even what had happened, but they all knew what the asshole in question was in for now, and rather frankly? They were looking forward to the show.

-o-0-o-

AN: I almost screwed myself over with this chapter by forgetting to censor the dialogue before crossposting. Whoops. That could have been a ban. Well, it's fixed now anyway, and I'll try to be more careful in the future.