7th of Bethas, 2719
Murko Muelton was certainly no fool. He didn't send Terrance to win her over at all. Instead, the galdor used him as a tool to see what the heavily-tattooed pirate lass held behind that impassive expression.
"Fuck off. Ent interested," was the beginnings of a very fruitful conversation. At least, as far as the galdor was concerned. It was almost impressive how Terrance, a human the galdor had fought alongside multiple times, could be so thoroughly undone just by the thought of Blythe. Of course, the sour pirate had her reputation, but there was more to her than the aggressive bitch the rest pf them saw. Murko needed fighters on his side, people with the talent to carry him towards what was now the broken dream of long-form piracy.
Shipment to shipment lootin' ain't what I signed up for, he reasoned, knowing that with whelps and drunken curr at his side he wouldn't get much done at all. The galdor felt the stupor grip at his senses, his feet heavy and his tongue fat even as his sharp mind remained intact. He didn't want a crew, not after the dream of one died with Tom, but the more he thought on it... the possibility was rife with profit.
Blythe is seasoned, unlike the rest of these fools. Even if she don' like people... She don' gotta to slit their throats, he affirmed, more and more taken with the idea of recruiting her. He knew he'd made the effort harder for himself, sending Terrance along, but he needed to see for himself without being directly involved. How deep in the shitter was she, really?
Then, Terrance pulled the dick move.
"Wha' else ye really got goin' on, Blythe?" he began, throwing the conversation into the furnace. Murko shook his head in distaste, knowing the flame that'd come next.
"Y'know, we've all heard-"
And then he was cut off. Finally Luella caught Terrance's eye, and the hell that was in them brought a smirk to Murko's lips.
There it is, he ruminated, quite pleased to see the hatred in those eyes before she cought him by the collar. Then, Blythe spoke out, and she threw her weight around, causing the terrified Terrance to nearly shit himself with fear. Murko watched as she slapped him upside the head, then she threw the other man to the floor in front of Murko.
Rather than be intimidated or remotely displeased by the confrontation, he spread his lips in a grin. He remained seated, moving towards the empty glass of whiskey and setting it on the table in front of Blythe. He motioned for the bar waitress to approach, raising his glass for it to be filled, exchanging it with some coin for her trouble. The waitress couldn't get out of there fast enough, nearly running to the safety of the bar.
"I know how it feels to lose, Blythe. Yer probably seethin'. Gotta get some shit off yer chest. I threw Terrance at ye for the chuckles and gods damn it, I wasn' disappointed. Sit wit' me, we can chat all serious-like, if you wan'. Or ye can remember that you're me Brother, and we can go tear some shit up for the King, savvy?"
He invited the woman to sit in front of him, placing the untouched glass of whiskey well within her reach regardless of whether or not she chose to listen to him. Murko Muelton had every intention of speaking regardless. He provided her no opportunity to speak, for he had more to throw at her before decisions were to be made.
"I dunno what sort of mess yer Dingus and Doofus made out of me oceans, but there's plenty of fish to catch, ay? I've heard some rumours. Some nice rocks that'll get all the junkies nice n' high is up floatin' down the way. With yer skills and me ship, they don' stand a chance. Ye in? Or ye up to stew in yer misery a while longer?"
"And wha' about me?" Terrance chimed in, still, on the floor, his voice a croak at best as Luella's boot continued to hover over his neck.
"Ye'll get what ye deserve if ye deserve it, aye? From wha' I'm seeing, yer jus' a lil bitch with a blade."