It took Lenny a moment to register what it would mean if Del was to sail again instead of this voice-confused woman, and though her reaction time was off by a few seconds, she was quick to shout, "No!"
"I mean, no," she repeated, adjusting her tone, "that won't be necessary. I put my trust in you."
At least if they crashed she'd know who to blame.
What she really wanted was solid, unmovable land underneath her dainty feet, and a bed to sleep in that didn't occasionally toss her to the ground as the ship fought the waves, and chicken. Oh, she'd kill any one of her shipmates for chicken.
"When do you think we'll be hitting port?" Lenny asked, shoving her hands into the deep pockets of her pants. She really loved the comfort of baggy man-clothes. Dresses were such a bother, and they didn't have conveniently placed pockets. What a pity.