Lot slid her an intrigued sideways glance once they had started to walk, "If you find yourself struck with creativity I know people would appreciate it, the majority of the tribe are complacent and lazy men, alongside a bar tender perhaps you'd consider donning a chefs hat?" he asked.
Walking up the bank the edge of the old parking lot became visible, the RV's standing proudly rather than stranded (as was the truth of it). "I wouldn't bother concerning yourself with deciphering Niro's moods," he advised. If Niro was in a good mood she'd find herself charmed, if not she'd find herself burnt. As they stepped up onto the concrete he pointed at the now shabby looking marina museum, "This is the old museum, we use it for tribe meals, special occasions and such - it's locked at night to discourage squatters but there's bound to be someone around that has the keys so if you need them just clear it with them," he turned to the water ahead, "This is home," he looked up the bank at the boats bobbing happily up and down, "There aren't any house boats left open, if you want to pioneer a search I'm not going to stop you," he looked at her, "If you can't find an RV without a hole in somewhere important in it then I can organise a share but I don't recommend it for long term use some of the people here can be..." he paused, "Territorial," yeah territorial, that was a nicer than the truth. The truth was they'd probably rob her blind.