(123-06-08) A Sailor's Tale

Flox has ordered himself some ale. Today he looks every bit the sort of sailor who works trading vessels between here and the Stepstones, tan and hail.

The sailor who has been talking about crazy Targaryens is, once again, to be found laid out on some pillows next to one of the tables. He is laughing at some crude joke another of the sailors at his table made, raising his ale in salute and then taking a drink.

Flox takes his tankard to whatever pillows are convenient in that area, not intruding, but at the edges where he might wok his way into the conversation.

The sailor is just saying, as Flox sits down, "Aye, I been to Lys. Beautiful place," he says with a laugh. Most around the table seem to get that he's not just talking about landscape. "I been all over Essos. Depending on the cargo, we go everywhere from Braavos to Qarth. Wherever the deals take us."

Flox has a rough sounding Essoi accent, the sort that suggests Southern Essos. "Ah Lys, a man can have a fine time there." And if the audience seems receptive he tells a bawdy and improbable story about mistaken identities in a bawdy house there.

The audience is indeed receptive, and the story gets their attention. They listen through the story, bursting into appreciative laughter at the appropriate point.

Flox lifts his tankard in salute, "But you were saying about Braavos, friend? There I've not been."

The sale and nods, and says, "Aye. It's a strange city, but good for business. Been there a few times over the years, twice for one load of cargo a few years back now, though I didn't get to set foot there the first time on that load. But aye, it be a strange place."

Sailor Flox raises his eyebrows and looked intrigued, "Had you in the brig Eh? A shame. a man needs his shore leave.

The sailor coughs and sputters as he momentarily chokes on his drink, "Naw! I'm the captain! Even before that, I ain't ever… Well, okay, a few times, but that was long ago. Naw, my boss, a rich Princeling, ordered us back out as soon as we made port. A messenger come and tell him his favorite tavern burnt down, and we had to sail all the way to Oldtown."

Flox is suitably impressed and offers to buy his next round to make up for the mistake. He does look interested in this, "It must have had some fine drink there if it sent him home so quick. Which Martell was it, or is it rude to ask?"

If he was at all hesitant to name his boss, the generosity of the purchased round seems to cure him of it. He nods appreciatively, quickly finishing his current round so he can order the next. After, he says, "Naw, it ain't rude. Well, I don't know much from rude, actually, but it be fine with me. But it ain't no Martell. He be a Targaryen. Aevanar Targaryen. He's a crazy one. Not just that, but it be like he's keeping a tally of how many different ports he can trade with. Must have a bet with someone," he adds with a laugh.

Flox is generous with the round and puts extra in so they drink might keep flowing for his new friend. "Well, a man does like to see new sights when he's young. I did my share of that." He lifts his tankard, "To generous handed Bosses and pillow houses yet to conquer!"

That gets cheers around the table, and raised tankards in response, and the sailor adds a shout, "Aye!"

Flox drinks his toast, then starts singing "The Curious Mermaid" in hopes they'll all soon be singing along.

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