The pitch was thankfully not too terrible. It was a large lined crate. In its present form, it was heavy and solid. Later, to use it, Lukos or one of his crew would chip away at it, melt it until it was molten and pourable, and then seal the cracks in the hull. The thing just happened to be a bitch to carry and had something unknowable and sticky on the outside. By the time he and Skylla were done dropping it off, they both looked the worse for wear. Faces shining with sweat, hair frizzy and puffed, cheeks pink and flaming, he swiped his brow as she took out bread from her satchel.

He hadn’t realized until she forced the bread and cheese in his hands that he’d been hungry at all. At the first bite, he felt it. His stomach gave an almighty, audible growl. Tearing into the food, it was gone before he was even remotely satisfied. Now he very much wanted some wine to wash that down with but had to content himself with the small water pouch at his side.

“What now?” Skylla asked, her attitude having very much returned. “Back to the market or do you have other errands to run, Captain?” and before he could actually answer that, she asked, “When do you leave?” He knew why she was asking. It was obvious that she planned to spend every moment with him while they were in the same port.

“Tomorrow, with the tide.” He never stayed anywhere long. Tilting his head, he appraised her reaction to that, then said, “That washer woman won’t be done until tomorrow morning. Let’s go get something to eat back at the tavern.” And, as though they hadn’t been bickering at all, he hooked an arm around her neck and practically dragged her with him through the streets. “If you’re a very good girl, I’ll stay in your room again.” And get a refund for his…

The tavern was crowded with people when they arrived. Doubling as a restaurant the way most did, he had to fight for their place at one of the long tables. The owner brought out flatbread with goat cheese and figs, strips of roast lamb, and all this was washed down with cheap beer. Lukos loved this kind of food. He didn’t get it on the water, that was for sure. What they got there was cured meat, salted meat, salted fish, or hard bread.

“Good, right?” he asked around a mouthful of food. And then he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and nodded at her. “When’s your what’s-his-name want you back?”

Did he care that Skylla was fucking around with someone else? No. She’d made it fairly clear where her preferences were and so long as his vanity was suitably stroked, she was completely free to come and go as she pleased, just as he was. That was his take on it, at any rate. Hers, he didn’t know. He’d never asked her and likely wouldn’t.

The answer, it turned out, was 'whenever'. Good enough for his purposes, anyway. That meant that while he was in port, he had a familiar person and Skylla had something to occupy her time. Once the meal was finished, they headed upstairs in a repeat of the previous night before falling asleep sometime around early morning.