Sindra took the cup in both hands, her limbs still numb and shaking from the cold of the sea. She drank, greedily; it had not been longer than a night, one sunfall to one sunrise, but the strain had given her a powerful thirst.
"I give thanks," she carefully placed the cup back on his desk and considered his questions. "It was called the Lucky Coin and it was once a fishing ship, not meant to stray past the coast. Its use had been altered by its newest owner, Quirino Caivano. He was- a little of a scholar, but more a seeker of lost treasure."
Sindra paused, running her fingers over the fabric for comfort, "I- find things. Things lost, or hidden, by others. I was known for it, in Myr."