It was remarkably quiet out at the shift station in the middle of the night. The Puffing Tom stopped running after midnight and didn't start again until six in the morning. For that entire six hour period of the day, Kokoro's home became a solitary island of timber and steel that you'd need a ship to get to and from. And Kokoro didn't have one. Paulie felt like he was out at sea as he stood and stared out the window, trying to make out the line of the horizon. The water was incredibly calm.

"Even kept you in the dark about that announcement right up to the moment itself, huh?" she said.

"Press's been having field days on me ever since," Paulie grumbled. He'd started on his fourth cigar of the evening. Or perhaps instead, it was his first of the morning. "Have to be on my best behaviour cause they're all on the hunt for the next big scoop about my whole damn life story."

"Them's the breaks kiddo!" she smirked. "As it turns out, when you're good at something, people want a piece of you."

"Yeah, so I'm finding out. And it's not always just meant well either. I don't think I'll ever get used to it," he sighed. It was late, and he was getting tired. He'd quit the drink by now and filled himself back up with some water from her sink. "How does he even put up with it? He doesn't like attention much usually."

"Hm, how to put this?" She glanced over at the little framed photo of Tom's Workers that still sat out on her table. "You have to think about how it was for him before. There was just the four of us, five if ya count that big old frog, though I imagine most wouldn't. That was it for nearly twenty years. Our world was so tiny."

"When you put it like that, guess maybe he appreciates being more connected now?"

"Yeah, think so," she said gently. "You know, back then, because no one'd have anything to do with Tom's Workers, there was a loneliness hanging about those two boys that nothing could heal."

She stared down deeply into her glass, giving the last few drops a little swirl.

"Not me, not even Tom. Least of all each other with the way they got on, fighting and all the way they did. But sometimes they tried. Bit of a mess really, but they ended up lovers, sort of, if you could even call it that."

She swallowed the last of it.

He quickly turned back from the view to look at her, his face burning red. "Iceburg… and Franky?"

"Before you go judging them, you gotta remember, like I said, each other's all they had."

"I just don't get it," he said, wearily running a hand through his hair.

"It was that or their own hand and eventually that wasn't enough for either of them, I guess," she mentioned. "I had to give them the talk myself and all. Boy, that's a day we all wish we could forget!"

Paulie's cigar nearly dropped from his mouth. "This is all getting way too crude and way too personal!"

"Probably shouldn't be gossiping about all that really now that you mention it. You did wanna know more about him though, didn't you?" she chuckled back.

"Yeah, but there's certain things I don't need to know. Didn't really want to know."

"Ha whoops! Sorry if that made you uncomfortable there."

She tried to laugh it off, but Paulie didn't join in, so she eased back out of it. She coaxed him over to sit down again with a tap on the table. He drew her curtain back over and did so obediently.

"Anyway, what I was trying to say, is he gets a lot back from it, being in the role he is," she said. "It's not just some burden to him. And it's not that Tom cornered him into it either if that's what you thought."

"Sort of, yeah. Wondered whether he was just doing it out of duty to the guy."

"There's a bit of that I imagine. Iceburg tried so hard to make him proud. But Tom always gave him hope too, you know? Gave him everything he had, a home, a purpose, hope for change and hope that maybe he'd find a way to heal himself as well as the city. That's why he does it."

"Cause he really believes in it." Paulie nodded.

"Yeah," she smiled back.

"I'm glad. I'd hate to think he was slaving away the way he does with no reward." He tapped his loose ash into the carton. They hadn't really made it deep enough. It was near full. "I know you don't know much about what happened to him before, but how'd he end up coming to you guys in the first place?"

"Tom just found him," Kokoro began. "Kid was sleeping rough, trying to sell little things he carved out of wood in the street during the day. They were crude, but Tom liked them. He was so scrawny that Tom brought him home to give him a good meal."

"And that's all there was to it? Just started working with you guys after that?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Once he saw Tom at work, Iceburg begged him to teach him everything. Don't know where his parents were. Sometimes I wonder if maybe even he hadn't a clue. Tom decided we'd never push him to talk."

"Quite a story, where he started and where he is now."

If it hadn't been for Tom and Kokoro, who knew where he might have ended up. Paulie'd heard some rough stories about the lives that some of the kids at the convent had lived on the street before the nuns had taken them in. No body deserved to have tales like those to tell. He only hoped what Iceburg wouldn't talk about wasn't half as bad as some of the worst of them.

"Yeah, he did well that kid of mine," she said, puffing out her chest. "Course he deserves it too, not everyone does. There's not a better man that could be running this city."

"True," Paulie replied. He allowed himself pride in his boss as well. "Still, if anything happened to him, that's the end of it. And I sure as hell am not ready to take over Galley La just yet."

She patted him on the head. "Relax. It'll take time, but you'll get there. That's a worry for years down the line. Now just concentrate on learning and, what was it you said again? Doing your best?"

"Don't you go parroting that at me too," he grumbled. "I get it from everyone now."

"Ha, sorry bout that, hard to resist."

"Anyway, you keep getting me side tracked."

He was stopped at a news stand nearby his apartment when he left for work in the morning.

"Mr Paulie hey! Come over here!" the owner waved him over.

Paulie wandered his way. Iceburg's plan to overshadow the sparse details of the assassination attempt with the news of Paulie's appointment was a clear success by the looks of things. Some even featured Paulie's face alone on the front page, photos from the moment they had swarmed him for a statement, and he cringed at the images of himself blankly staring back like a startled animal.

"Ah Jesus," Paulie groaned.

"Impressive right? Think you must've made every cover this morning. Really did your best there." The news guy nudged him in the ribs and he grimaced back. That was going to get very old very quickly. "Here take one on me this morning, alright? You have a regular paper?"

"Call me cheap, but I usually just take a flip through whatever's lying around Galley La's canteen. Don't often buy one myself," Paulie said, hoping to wave him off.

It was more or less the truth though. Headlines about Galley La tended to catch his attention regardless of the publication.

"Which'll it be?"

"Thanks, really, but I don't want one. It's way too embarrassing."

"Ah come on." He threw an arm round Paulie's shoulder and he irritably tried to peel him back off. At some point, an onlooker had appeared and approached them.

"Paulie," she squeaked. "Sign one for me!"

He tried his utmost to remain contained. "Alright," he said, through clenched teeth.

It wasn't long before a small crowd gathered around him. And quickly his patience to stand and listen was tested further than he could cope with. As soon as a slight opening formed through the swarm, he made a dash for freedom towards headquarters.

It was another day of scanning through paperwork, struggling to make heads or tails of the majority. He set Iceburg to work on finishing his drafts for the fishing vessel first. Starting on small tasks to build a sense of accomplishment often boosted productivity over at the shipyard, but he hadn't really expected it'd work on Iceburg just as well. It seemed likely he'd finish by the end of the day and it would give something for them to tick off and allow Iceburg to feel a sense of progress. He figured it'd be good for Iceburg's morale, and just as good for his own to see he was managing to start helping things along.

Iceburg's transponder snail rang.

"I'm nearly finished these," Iceburg called over. "I'll get that."

"I'm sitting right here. And I am your acting secretary after all," Paulie reasoned. "You keep working on there."

"Sorry. I must be getting used to having to answer my own calls again." Iceburg put his head back down.

"No worries," he answered, and lifted the receiver. "Hello, Galley La main headquarters? This is Paulie."

"Ah Paulie, just the man we were hoping to speak to," the deep voice started.

"Who is this?" he snapped.

Iceburg glanced over.

"Water Seven Times. We were hoping to arrange an interview with you?"

"Sorry, not interested. See you," Paulie said, and quickly hung back up.

"It was the press wasn't it?" Iceburg asked.

"Got it in one."

They'd just settled back to work when the snail began to ring again.

Paulie shook his head. He was already tired of it all. "That's probably just them again."

"Sorry Paulie, I hadn't quite expected this much of a fuss."

"I'd like to say it's alright, but I'm still kind of pissed at you too," he grouched.

"All things considered, you've been very gracious about it," Iceburg replied.

"Knowing you were planning on announcing it at some point in the future anyway… I'd just have had to deal with it later on, so really it'd be no different for me if it's now or later, would it?" Paulie took a sip of his tea. He'd made them both a mug earlier. He'd brewed it a little strong and the aftertaste was unpleasantly bitter. He wasn't surprised that Iceburg hadn't drank much of his own, though he'd taken a few sips at first to be polite.

"No. I suppose it would have been like this regardless of when it was."

They let the snail ring off. But it wasn't long until it started back up again.

"They're all crawling out of the woodwork now, huh?" Paulie said, exasperated.

"Just disconnect it."

"What if there's something important you need to answer?"

"Well, if you're not picking it up anyway..."

"True. Alright then," Paulie muttered. "This call will decide it. If it's another journalist, I'm cutting the line."

"That's fair enough," Iceburg shrugged.

Paulie snatched up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi there, Water Water News."

Paulie dropped it back. He prized a finger underneath the snail's shell to flick the switch that prevented incoming communications. "Fucking reporters."

"Don't know if I'm gonna be able to leave the building without getting chased down," Paulie said nervously.

A crowd gradually gathered at the gates throughout the morning, and by lunch they were making enough of a collective babble that Iceburg hadn't even needed to bring it to Paulie's attention.

They both watched from the window.

"Well, if you'd like, I'll go talk with them," Iceburg offered.

"Would you? And would that even work?"

They watched as a lone figure tried to scale the gates with little success. They slid back down the railings and landed on their ass. Paulie felt they'd only deserved as much.

"It should," Iceburg said. "Not that I have much to say to them, but I could keep them occupied long enough for you to get out the back."

"That would be great. Thanks. Really," Paulie answered.

"Not a problem. Well, it was my fault you're in this mess right now, it would only be right to take some responsibility for it."

"Damn right," Paulie said. He sighed, steeling himself. "Time to go see what my mother makes of all this. If I don't go see her now, she'd probably never forgive me."

"I'll walk down with you and head out the front entrance," Iceburg assured.

He held the door for Paulie as they left the room. They walked together down the excess of stairs that Paulie now held a distinct grudge against having to trek up each morning. He considered fashioning himself a pulley system of ropes to hoist himself in through Iceburg's window to by-pass them.

"Like I said, it should be safe to escape out the back route," Iceburg said. "There's no public access for civilians so it should be quiet for you."

"Know what you're going to say to them?" Paulie questioned.

"Not at all," Iceburg laughed apprehensively. "Well, I can make something up as I go along. I'm not sure what they'll ask either, but I'll try not to make things any more difficult for you."

"Yeah. Don't go making an ass of me. I could do that just fine on my own."

"Not at all," he dismissed, with a wave of his hand.

The chapel was a lot smaller than he'd remembered it as a child. Back then, the looming vastness of the space instilled the awe and fear of God in him just as intended. Now that he built ships far bigger and more imposing, the hall seemed quaint in comparison. But as a craftsman himself, he appreciated its workmanship much more now he was older. He admired the carvings on the wooden pews and the perfectly formed arches of the high ceiling with fresh eyes, knowing just how difficult they were to make appear so effortless. Though admittedly, it was starting to show signs of age.

Caught in the stream of blue light from the stained glass window at the front of the hall stood a stocky young nun. She turned round to him at the sound of his heavy footfall echoing through the chamber. It took a moment for him to recognise her. She was dressed in full habit, with her tool belt slung over it.

"Paulie!" She sprinted forward to greet him.

"Been a while Jude." His voice echoed through the hall.

"It's Sister Maria now, though," she explained with a grin.

He brushed the back of his neck. "Uh, have you finished your training then?" he asked.

"Not quite. I make my final vows in about half a year," she replied. "But Mother just chose my name, and I want to start getting used to it."

"It's nice." He smiled, and she smiled back at him. "It suits you."

She reached out her hand to grab his in a strong handshake. "Oh, congratulations Paulie. We all heard the news."

"Thanks I guess." He shrugged, slightly embarrassed as she clutched him with both hands shaking his whole arm enthusiastically up and down with it. He coughed. "Still not really sure how to feel about it."

"It's a pretty big responsibility," she said, finally letting him go. "Big step up from being kids running away to go see the sea train launch."

"We were always running away." He laughed.

The pride they always held for their escape was quickly staunched by their punishment on return. But some things were still worth getting in trouble for, and seeing the Puffing Tom was definitely one of them.

"Becoming a shipwright was all you talked about for weeks after." She giggled. "I remember thinking, 'I want to know what I want to do with my life too'.'"

"I didn't realise I'd inspired you so much," he replied, with a shrug.

"You were so passionate, it was infectious."

Paulie smiled as the memories flooded back of their secret missions out to the old library to cart back all the books on carpentry their two pairs of feeble little arms could carry. Eventually, even his mother grew tired of slapping books on sailing knots out of his hands when he was meant to be studying the Bible. When any handyman visited the nunnery to fix anything, the two kids ran at him, screaming at him to teach them everything he knew.

"Course I still like to build a bit too." She flexed her arm proudly. "Help out a lot with the DIY jobs around the place. The big stained glass window? "

"Uh huh?"

"I'm designing a new one to replace it. It's kind of become my dream to be honest, to fix up this old chapel with my own handywork. I'm sure you've probably noticed how beat up the old place looks."

"It's been in better shape," he answered. "That's a good dream."

"Look, here's my plans."

She pulled a little folded sheet from a pocket on her tool belt and handed them his way with enthusiasm. Paulie looked over her drawings, not expecting much, they'd never been great as kids, so it pleasantly surprised him. She'd learnt a lot since then too. There was a careful pencil sketch of the design for the window, and a test for the glass tints in soft watercolours.

"Looks nice. You know, if you ever decide to quit there'd probably be a job at the shipyard for you."

"Ah, no, it's just a hobby for me," she dismissed.

"Anyway, here to see Mother," Paulie said at last.

"Should be in the office this morning. Here to talk about your big news then I guess?"

"Yeah, don't know how she's going to take it though. She never was completely sold on Galley La." He frowned. "Or Mr Iceburg."

He wasn't looking forward to talking with her. His work, or perhaps more how it had taken him away from her was something of a point of contention between them.

"I'll come and see the window though when it's done, so let me know. Call me cause I want to see it, alright?"

"Sure, can't wait to show you. Not going to let you show me up."

She waved, and he raised a hand.

"All the best Jude."

"Sister Maria," she corrected.

"Right, right. Sorry."

He knocked first, pushed open the door and peered in nervously. She sat at the desk, her large frame filling the chair and spilling over onto her workspace. Two crumpled cigarettes hung from her mouth, threatening to fall and set her papers alight. Whatever it was she was working on must have been a two cigarette kind of problem.

"Um, hi Mum," he mumbled.

"Paulie!" She flung her thick arms open and waved him in.

He felt awkward about these dramatic displays of affection, but put up with it for her sake. She hopped up and hugged him tighter than even Tilestone would. It knocked the wind from him.

"I can't believe it. Vice President."

"Yeah, quite something," he mumbled into the back of her veil. "What do you think?"

She stroked his hair. The way she clung to him, Paulie was worried she was never going to let him go. "My own son's heir to the city. I can't believe it."

He corrected her. "I'm not Vice President Mayor or something you know." He tried to prize her off subtly. There was only so long a hug was meant to last and she'd far out-maxed that limit.

"I know, but the shipyard's so important you might as well be."

"Not really," he choked as she squeezed him tighter. "It's just that Mr Iceburg happens to be both Galley La's boss and the city's Mayor. I really won't have any say beyond the docks what goes on around here."

At Iceburg's name she finally released him, but clutched him at arm's length. She was much shorter than him now, and Paulie could count the wrinkles folding on her forehead like incoming waves as she frowned up at him.

"He might be a fabulous engineer, but that Godless man has been leading our city into spiritual ruin for years." She fished out a third cigarette from her headdress and lit it up too. "Since his election attendance at Mass has fallen to the lowest it's ever been."

"Forgive me for saying, but what Mr Iceburg believes or doesn't isn't any of your business," Paulie said.

"And your attendance." She began preening him, smoothing down little stray hairs. "And since he allowed it, this city welcomes pirates of all people. No one has the guts to speak up against it."

He swished her hand away like a stray housefly. "You might not want to admit it, but not all pirates are bad," he protested. "And Marine and Government offers aren't fucking saints themselves. If I've learnt anything lately, it's that. Pirates saved all our lives."

"If they're all like that lousy father of yours they're good for nothings. And watch your fucking language."

He sighed. "Though we're both still so angry with him, even he's not bad, Dad. Just makes a lot of stupid ass mistakes."

"Idiot boy," she fussed, letting him go. "Guess your head's so full of ships now there's no room left for God in there."

He shrugged. "Somehow I don't even know whether he'd take my side anyway."

She stared at him in silent disapproval, and Paulie kept his eyes fixed on hers back. He wondered if the silence between them served as an agreement she didn't feel comfortable acknowledging.

She flung her arms in the air in defeat. "You'd follow that man blindly into anything."

"Not blindly. And not anything." He folded his arms. "If you met Mr Iceburg for once you'd feel differently about him. He's a good man."

"Hm, I doubt it," she muttered.

He turned away. "Maybe I should just go."

"No," she said nervously. She placed her hand on his back, knowing full well another gut squeezing hug was the last thing he wanted from her.

"Sorry. But all the mess that man's dragged you into lately, it's a miracle you're still alive at all."

He turned back to her. "It's all done, and I'm still here aren't I?"

She looked so small and lost that he felt it only right to comfort her. He held her, and this time she didn't cling to him quite so desperately.

"I am proud of you, you know?" she said.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I should get back to work."

"Hm." She frowned up at him. "It was nice to see you Paulie, but don't make it so long the next time."

"I'll try."

"Oh, you're back," Iceburg called.

He was over at his writing desk and immersed in papers as Paulie stumbled in through the door a little later than he'd intended.

He fell into the chair at the other side of Iceburg's table. "We have to do something about those stairs."

"Well, I'll get thinking about it," Iceburg chuckled and glanced over at him. "Anyway, how did your talk with your mother go?"

"Not great. Same temper, maybe that's the problem?"

"Always arguing? Well, I guess I know what that's like…"

"Tiring." He slumped further into the chair and wiped the sweat from his forehead, taking a breather. "Anyway, how'd it go with the press?"

"Oh. That." Iceburg was less than enthusiastic.

"Not good, huh?"

"Well, they asked me some things," he said vaguely.

"Oh here we go."

"Sorry, I'm not entirely sure it went as well as it could have," he apologised.

Paulie noted that he didn't look up and it wasn't because he was overly invested in his paperwork, because he never really was. "What exactly did you say to them?"

"Hm, no doubt you'll find out in the papers tomorrow morning."

"Jesus," he muttered. "If you can't tell me I'm not sure I even want to know." He pulled a cigar from his top pocket. He really needed a smoke. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, go ahead," Iceburg conceded. "Sorry. I've just been making things impossible for you haven't I?"

"Not impossible. But not easy." He lit his cigar and took a long draw. He felt himself relax a little. "Anyway, just drop it. I don't care what you said. The press'll twist anything whatever way they want so even if you'd said nothing they'd blow up some big story about something or other."

"Maybe it would be good to arrange an interview with them." Iceburg gathered together his stack of pages. He placed them on the top of a pile Paulie's handwritten place card declared the finances section. "They'll hound you until they get one. Give them just enough to satisfy them and they'll leave you alone."

"Alright. I'll do it," Paulie reluctantly agreed. "But this time, I'm taking some time to prepare for it at least."

"That's quite alright. And if you need a break from looking through this paperwork to do it, I honestly don't mind." Iceburg took up the next set of documents from Paulie's 'misc' section. "I finished the blueprints as you might have gathered, so I've moved on to trying to sort those ones you couldn't."

"That's a bit of good news at least," Paulie said. He tapped his ash into a tray. "And thanks. Yeah, I'd kind of reached my limit there anyway."

He reached into his back pocket for Iceburg's working schedule, scrambled for a pen and ticked off the fishing vessel project.

"Now that you're the VP, I should really assign you your own office," Iceburg said off hand.

It was well past working hours. He opened his office door to encourage Paulie to stop work and leave for the night to get some rest. They'd scheduled his interview for early the next morning to get it out of his hair and the journalists off his back.

"Well, we did replicate the old headquarters," Iceburg added. "So we have an empty office in the new building that Kalifa used in the old one."

"You're always going on about Kalifa," Paulie pointed out.

"She was my assistant for the last five years Paulie. When you're around someone every day for that long you develop a close relationship."

"Close?"

"I considered her a friend of course, but I'm not interested in women."

"Oh," Paulie uttered.

Iceburg had said it so casually that it took a moment to settle in.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have gone prying like that. It was totally inappropriate."

"Well, now you know," Iceburg added, just as casual. "Anyway, goodnight Paulie."

"Um yeah," he mumbled awkwardly. "You too."

He could barely get to sleep that night worrying about what exactly Iceburg had said, and what the newspapers were going to spill about him in the morning.