Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
Trevor nodded taking a slow sip of whiskey. He hopped onto the desk and pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged, staring off at a spot on the wall as he thought. "We'll talk to the crew, see what they know and don't know, maybe it's just fucking communication. If it's not, things are changing and there's some reason we aren't in the loop. Focus on 'ome for awhile," he sighed, picturing all the gold he might be giving up for the sake of keeping a tight reign on their power. "International business isn't going anywhere, is it? Pays better but I want this fucking settled already." He took another sip and pulled his eyes away from the wall, looking at her instead. "What do you think?"
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opportunist) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
wished,