Avakaron ⇒ [Complete] The Brazen and Buff

[Boga Negura]

Because Boga hadn't been looking at Currituck's face while he corrected him, the flush of the sailor's skin from either source of fluster was missed entirely. Other than the way Currituck pulled away from his hands, which is natural for anyone to do in the same position, Boga is clueless to Currituck's change of emotion. Despite his lack of insight, however, Boga still feels the same sort of embarrassed shame as if Currituck had slapped his hands away and told him to back off. His stammering didn't help him feel better either because now instead of just feeling embarrassed about having corrected Currituck out of the blue when he's strictly been told not to do that to people for who knows how long (roughly 20 years but he's the only one counting), but now he's also embarrassed about the fact that he can't properly speak what it is that he wants to say.

Doing something he knows he shouldn't do and not being able to communicate what he wants. These are the most frustrating things he can think of. And right here he's done both of those things at the exact same time, basically. Thank the gods Currituck is ready to move on.

He seems really happy about it too. Boga's not going to lie, Currituck's language feels unusual to hear, but he can't quite place why. It's not the accent, the accent is fine. As a matter of fact, Bo finds it a bit charming the way that the young seaman's tongue can just slip across words with such ease that some letters don't even need to be said for Boga to understand him. That could just be the years of working on the docks and staring at sailors rowing into the sunset talking, but Currituck definitely has his own style of speech that specifically is endearing to the labourer. It's always on the downtick of his voice, his slurs— every time Currituck's voice lowers. Like he's enunciating the words that are being stretched across the great mountain peak of his higher octaves right up until he gets to the summit of his vocal range— then lets them fall in whimsical relaxation as they tumble off the cliffs of his lips in jumbles of shortened consonants. All the work is being put into the forefront, emphasized by the higher range which is then followed by pure alleviation of form, turning full words into a brushstroke of letters that is carried by the deepening of his tone. It's actually quite fascinating. But despite the fact that Boga is entranced by his thick cadence Bo really does feel— like a...that he- uh... Hm. What was he thinking about again?

Boga nods a silent response to Currituck confirming the presence of his waterskin, Bo setting his jugs on the ground sideways so that way the handles face upward, about to demonstrate the next exercise he does in his line up. Currituck returns to the site of Boga's fumbling words, however, completely denouncing any feelings of contempt at all for the event. The way he says it as well is like he's speaking with the sun shooting between his teeth. This brings back Boga's previous train of thought. It seems unusual to him, that's right. Almost uncanny the words he speaks. Boga is not sure if that's because of his own faults and biases stepping in or if this interaction genuinely is unusual. Currituck speaks with such pride that each word feels as if it were specifically chosen for him, but the words themselves feel out of place. Kind of like most of Boga's jokes, to be honest. The good intention is there, but the words don't fit the form. Does he really appreciate him letting him know he was slouching? Really? Does he really think that or is he trying to cover up the fact that he's uncomfortable? Because no one likes being corrected about anything, especially about their body. Does he really want him to just say "straighten up Currituck"? For real? Boga doubts it very much.

The intention is there, but the words don't line up with what he has been taught. And what Boga has been taught is what he uses for his social survival, so he can't afford to throw it to the wayside. He could end up ruining everything. Not that he doesn't do that already.

Boga picks at one of the few remaining scabs from his knuckles while he tucks his chin to his chest. He smiles meekly when Currituck mentions his own posture, looking at his fingernail peel away at the old wound which no longer bleeds when exposed. It may feel unusual, but a compliment is still a compliment, he supposes. "Heh, thank you. I don't have perfect posture or anything like that though, I'm not trying to say that I know everything about posture. I just know that it's important to doing certain exercises right," and to ensuring that you hit your head on every doorframe in Avakaron by making yourself as tall as possible. "You still command a lot of respect." Which is true. Boga is struggling to find a reason not to respect him, and it's very difficult.

"Anyway- this one you need your jugs on the ground," he turns away from Currituck to return to his weights of choice. Back to the routine. "And you get on the ground like this." Boga bends over and holds the jugs, but doesn't pick them up. Instead, he puts his weight on them and pulls his feet back until he's holding himself above the ground, similar to if he were about to do a push-up, but while on the jugs rather than with his hands in the sand. Boga took special care not to have any part of him other than his feet touch the sand. He hates sand. "Once you're comfortable, you start with one arm, take the jug, and lift outward." Bo uses his left arm as the demonstrater again, lifting his fully extended arm outward towards his left with the jug in his hand, carefully lowering it back to the ground. "I know this was difficult for me at first, so if you need to, you can drop your knees to the ground and do the exercise that way. And again we can always switch weights— or dump water out of those ones too, that also works. Achieves the same thing. Understand?" Boga attempts to look over his shoulder to Currituck, but can barely reach his chin to his shoulder in the first place, making looking that far a challenge.

[Currituck Itavi]

Currituck plonks his own jugs down on the ground like how Boga's are lying, still beaming. He is so happy to be here with Boga and learn things from his friend whom he respects greatly. Maybe, in the spring, they could frolick through a meadow of flowers together. Or play ukeleles. Or lick sand. As Boga demonstrates the next procedure, Currituck mirrors his actions play-by-play, tightening his core so that his body forms a straight line from head to foot. Currituck starts with his left arm, too -- another of his particulars, leading with his left limbs. When he goes to move the jug, he notices the effect the weight has on his wrist, so he keeps his wrist straight to avoid straining it as he extends the jug up parallel with his upper back and then lowers it in the same controlled manner as Boga. He must tighten his core more to stabilize himself against the change in his center of gravity. Exhale...inhale... Interesting, like a seagull flapping its wings. He nods when his physical fitness instructor explains ways in which the exercise can be made easier and asks if he understands.

"Yes, I do."

Of course, he doesn't want the exercise to be easier. But Currituck promises himself he'll make one or more of those adjustments if necessary -- he can't improve if he sprains his wrist or blows his shoulder out. That'd be awful for when he goes back to sea, too. So the little sailor proceeds with continuing the exercise with his left arm...

And this time he makes sure to keep his body STRAIGHT.

He wonders what it was that put his posture out of alignment the last time. Whatever it was, he'll pay strict attention this time to figure it out. Currituck closes his eyes and draws all of his focus into himself, onto his physical body. He listens to and feels his breathing; feels how his abs, lower back, and giss clench and his chest, shoulders, and 'hi-ceps' press up against the jugs to keep his body in the shape of a plank. He takes in a breath in preparation for the exhalation of the upward motion, feeling the muscles in his shoulder and the port side of his upper back flex to raise the weight, feeling how the muscles in his abdomen shift to keep his body in one stable position. He slowly inhales as he lowers the weight, as his back and shoulder muscles change the type of effort they put in to counter gravity's pull in a different way. He continues up to eight reps, at which point he notices that his core muscles start to slack, and he stops. He moves on to his right arm and focuses on remaining in a firm, straight line, although this hyperfocusing results in him losing focus on maintaining steady control over the weight a few times. He corrects himself when he notices, but his focus throughout is primarily on keeping his body STRAIGHT. Straight as a ship's bowsprit. He taps out at eight reps when he feels his posture start to slip again. Currituck looks over at his big, strong, muscular friend with the big hair and the big heart to match.

"I'd like t' switch jugs f'r this one, please."

[Boga Negura]

Because this exercise is more difficult than the first, Boga has to force himself to actually focus. His mind can wander and do the can-can in his brain all he wants with bicep curls, but this works quite a bit more than just his arms, so he has to think about not only bringing his arm outward to lift the jug, but also to holding himself up from the ground so he doesn't fall. It's a lot of moving parts, so Bo tells his head to get to work on thinking about it.

He counts the breaths that leave his mouth by watching for the white fog that would fall to the ground from his mouth. He inhales sharply through his nose, but if he doesn't see a big enough cloud, he knows that he didn't take a big enough breath and adjusts for the next one. Even if that meant he needed to pause the lifting process to do so. Boga's never had to really think about how loud his breathing procedure is since he's been by himself when working out mostly. He can be as loud or as quiet as he wants and not a soul would care. But after a while, getting two reps of five in, one for each hand, his attention is brought back to his companion who reminds Bo of his existence. Is he breathing too loud? His nose isn't whistling when he's inhaling is it?

"Oh, sure. Of course," Boga says through a pant that is caused by his sudden desire to restrain his breathing. Bo puts both jugs on the ground and puts his weight on them fully as he briefly hops, tucking his feet closer to himself. As he does this though, the jugs crackle as they contort under the pressure. Boga's eyes widen. Squatting above the sand, Bo puts the jugs on his thighs and examine them. The wooden containers, fashioned very similarly to tiny barrels with handles, looked alright. Water currently wasn't leaking from them anywhere. He makes sure by twisted and rotating the jug around on all sides, searching for potential holes. But no, the jugs are just very sandy. No new water is being drawn from them. He cackles, "Sorry about that. They are fine though. I should have remembered that they are getting old before doing that." Because Boga rarely thinks about the fragility of items or people before interacting with them. Hence why he ends up breaking almost everything he has prolonged contact with. As is his life, he supposes.

Rakar, please help him control himself. He doesn't want to hurt anyone or break anything today. He's not sure if he can take it...

Boga had paused as he silently thought out his prayer, staring at the jugs in his hand. He sends the message off to the sky with a light sigh, holding them out to Currituck and exchanging them for the larger jugs. Even if these jugs could more easily take his weight, he doesn't hop back into position, rather carefully walking his legs back and returning to the exercise. Having started with the smaller pieces, his arms got used to their weight, making using these new ones feel that much harder. Not that he couldn't do it, he finishes his reps fine. Bo just had to let go of his thoughts again and completely return to the task.

About 10 reps laters for each arm and Boga walks his feet up enough that he can lift his rump in the air and press his back down towards the ground in a brief stretch. He groans as he does, then walks the rest of the way and brings himself to a stand, leaving the jugs in their place. His backpack is set in the sand not too far away and he walks over to it, hand plunging inside its pockets to grab the waterskin inside and chug a decent chunk of the water within. "That was pretty good." Boga says, feeling the need to say something encouraging to Currituck in order to make up for his corrections earlier. "Your posture was great." Boga actually has no idea what his posture looked like. He should have paid attention to Currituck's form more, but he simply had too many things going on before, during, and after the exercise to really think about it. "Keep up the good work." Bo flashes a smile that only lasts a few moments due to the mental strain that drags it down.

"Take a break if you need to, but I'll show you what I like to do next." Boga drops the waterskin on top of his bag and goes back over to his jugs, taking the larger ones again so Currituck can use the smaller ones. "This one focuses mostly on the shoulders. The last one kinda help your stomach and chest along with your shoulders, but this one is pretty much just shoulders. So all you have to do is bend your knees a little like this," Boga keeps his feet apart and bends at his knees some. "Not all the way or anything just a little. Then you bend forward, making sure your back is straight and let your arms hang in front of you." He demonstrates this, letting his arms hang in the space in front of him while he looks at the sand. "And whenever you're ready to start, you bring your arms back up to your sides." Boga brings the jugs back and up and slightly past his torso in a controlled pendulum motion, letting his arms fall back to a hanging position. "You want to go as far back as you can, but obviously don't hurt yourself doing it. Just do what's comfortable. You can build it over time. The higher you go back, the harder you're going to work." He quickly shows the difference between bringing his arms to his sides and then going further. Why, he doesn't know.

Once the demonstration is done, Boga brings him back up to stand, dropping one of the larger jugs and grabbing a smaller one, holding one of each out to Currituck. "Pick your poison." He had thought about just letting Currituck have the smaller jugs, but he should really let Currituck choose. He shouldn't decide for him. Exercise is too personal of a thing for Boga to accurately decide for someone else, let alone this particular someone who has managed to break every preconceived notion Boga has had about him since the beginning.

[Currituck Itavi]

Currituck laughs with Boga about the crumpled jugs. "Not t' worry." He switches jugs with his strong friend and returns to the exercise at hand. He finds it much easier to perform the movements properly and keep his posture as perfect as possible at the same time. Such are the values of this little perfectionist. He is able to complete two more full sets of ten for each arm, and is meticulous, oh so meticulous, about his posture. He stands back up off the ground, lifting the easier weights with his knees. He sees Boga walking to his backpack, presumably to get water. Hmm, good idea. Currituck leaves the two one-gallons behind as he follows his friend's lead, but with his own backpack and waterskin. He unscrews the cap and starts sipping. "That was pretty good. Your posture was great. Keep up the good work." Some water spills out of the smiling corners of Lil' 'tuck's mouth and flows down his chin. He stands up even straighter and turns around to meet his friend's smile with his own. "Thank you, sir~" he beams. He just couldn't restrain himself from using that title of respect this time. He respects Boga a lot. "I'll admit that I didn't pay attention t' how you were doin', but my guess is thatchou did as wonderfully as you did when y' demonstrated how t' do it f'r me."

Boga gives what Currituck's brain registers as an order to take a break if needed. "Yes, s-- yes, Boga." Currituck feels a little out of place and flustered now. Is this appropriate? Does Boga even care? He drinks a little more water, thinking. Boga's phrasing of his instructions in the imperative draws out the unconscious reflex for an immediate formal response, as if a superior were giving those instructions. Odd, but how curious! He closes the cap of his waterskin and returns to observe Boga's technique, nodding in the enthusiastic affirmative his acknowledgment and understanding of each instruction (and for Cheon's sake, refraining from saying, 'Yes, sir,' once the demonstration concludes). He mimics what his friend shows him without inclusion of the jugs as he shows him. "Got it! --" Oh no y' don't, you 'bout said it then.

And then, Boga offers him the choice of which type of weighted jug to use. Currituck puts his hands behind his back and cocks his head to the side, his eyes drifting to and fro from jug to jug. "Mmm..." He smiles and points to the smaller one. "That one."

[Boga Negura]

Bo is only caught off guard by a hair when Currituck refers to him as sir. Not because he didn't like or isn't accustomed to the word being used, sailors use it all the time when talking to the dockmaster. But usually, only children refer to him as sir, not other adults and especially not other men. This doesn't bother him most times because just "Boga" or "hey big guy" or what have you is good enough to catch his attention, but during those few times he is referred to as sir its absence is suddenly very apparent. He gets a feeling of "oh, hello there person who doesn't think he's a child, thank you for not listening to all the rumors about him and assuming he's just an infant in a man's body when you haven't even met him yet". Then again, Currituck isn't a founding family member. His family is small and likely hasn't dwelled in Avakaron for long, if they dwell in Avakaron at all. Currituck also spends much of his time on ships out on the sea and river, not in town listening to women's gossip. It makes sense that he wouldn't have heard anything nor have any other outside influences. So really, now that Bo dwells on it, it's probably not that big of a compliment to begin with anyway.

He still likes it though. And the compliment too. That is nice as well.

Boga hides a smile behind his waterskin before demonstrating the exercise. When Currituck expresses that he understands the jist Bo lets him to it and continues with his own exercise. This particular work out is somewhat hit or miss for Bo. On some days he can really feel it working his shoulders and his core, especially when he engages it is really working at it. But on other days, even when he feels as if he is doing the same thing as before, it just doesn't feel the same. Bo doesn't often work with a mirror so he doesn't know that these times where he feels less worked are the days he's not as flexible due to built up soreness, extra tension in his shoulders, or just laziness. He's prone to not lifting his arms back enough to get any meaningful engagement from it. However, because today he is particularly interested in focusing on nothing but his physicality, he does take the extra time to ensure he does it properly. The gradually building stings in his muscles really help him forget whatever it was that was taking over his head. It helps give his mind a rest while his body does the heavy lifting. Literally.

Boga doesn't count out the reps this time at all, instead only putting his attention to his movements and his breathing. That's another thing he struggles with at times, especially in more strenuous workouts— breathing. He's a heavy breather normally, taking lungfuls of air on the daily, but when he's working, especially on his core, chest, or shoulders, he feels much more restrained and holds his breath or only breathes shallowly. So this is what he tries to fix for this exercise. Keeping it controlled and even all the way through.

When Currituck gives in, ending his segment, Bo does the same and puts the jugs down. He shakes out his arms, bouncing on his feet much like in the warmup. "Ooo, okay then. It's hard doing that one in a jacket but we did alright. Good job." He doesn't think twice as he pats Currituck's shoulder once. He brings his hands together and rubs them, breathing his warm exhales into their skin. "I like giving myself a little break from shoulders and arms right about now," more like always right now," because I get pretty worn at this point, so the next few I like to focus on legs. I know that's not your back or anything like I said earlier, but I personally can't do just straight arm workouts the whole time. I get too tired." His arms and shoulders already are getting that jelly sensation. "If you want to go back and redo some of those other exercises to only work on your arms you're free to, but I just can't." He snickers, "I don't last very long."

Stepping away from the jugs and his pack, Boga draws a small line in the sand with the heel of his boot. "This is a simple one. You just squat on one side of the line and then jump over to the other into another squat. Nothing much to it." This whole teaching thing is kind of exhausting, isn't it? " Just try to get your thighs as flat with the ground as possible when you squat. Don't get lazy and do half squats or bend forward or whatever, that's the important part- well, it's all important, but without the squats you're just jumping. There's nothing wrong with jumping but that's just something different. I can't help you there." Without further ado, Boga sets himself on one side of the line he made and bends his legs until his thighs are parallel to the sand. After reaching this, he makes a controlled jump over to his right, landing and squatting on the other side of the sand trench line. This work out always leaves so much sand in his shoes, but he'll empty it out later like he always does.

[Currituck Itavi]

This next one should be fun. Well, they're all fun, but this one doesn't engage as much of the body as the last one, so Currituck can just focus on holding his body correctly and performing the workout properly and then fall into his mind with the rest of his brainpower. Exhale...inhale. Raise...lower. Hmm, seems like this one would help him to keep his shoulders back when he stands. He brings the jugs up as faaar back as he can, then slooowly lowers them back down. I wonder what kinda drinks Boga likes. Raise... Does he drink much? Lower... What kinda fruit does he like? Raise... I like fruit. Lower... Does he like vegetables? Raise... I wonder which ones he likes. Lower... The way Currituck's eyes drill into the sand in front of his feet and the way his expression is a blank stare are the physical manifestations of his brain's simultaneous hyperfocus on his body and preoccupation with his thoughts. His hat slips off his head and dangles off his right horn during his second set -- avent. Here comes the draft. But he continues without missing a beat as if nothing happened. The lack of insulation on his nearly-bare scalp chills him quickly. He puts his hat back on his head after he finishes the set and soon begins and finishes his final set of ten. His shoulders and upper back are on fire, but apart from that, he shivers due to his head being exposed for a little bit. He crosses his arms in front of him and smushes his hands between his upper arms and torso to warm them. Due to being so skinny, he gets cold easier than others.

Currituck smiles up at Boga when he starts hopping and flailing as before. He beams when his friend compliments and pats him, and he feels the strength and gentility behind that pat. He's so cool~ "Thanks, you did great, too." Currituck takes his hands out and flexes his fingers, continuing to listen. "Nah, I'll join y' on this one, too, I'm feelin' a little uhhhhhh top-heavy." He gestures to his upper body when he says 'top-heavy.' "I'm not used t' not usin' most 'r all a' m' body when doin' physical avent."

He goes over to watch Boga start explaining the next exercise, rubbing his hands together. Hmm... Oh, like a frog! Squatting, eh? That's pretty handy to work on. Sounds fun, too. Giss parallel to the ground...don't fifter out on it... Currituck smirks. I ain't shirkin' NOTHIN'! I'll give it my all, just like I always do! Currituck watches Boga make like a frog a few times before turning in another direction and drawing his own line in the sand with the toe of his boot, orients himself facing perpendicular to the line, shimmies his tush down to where his thighs are parallel, and... BOING! Over the line! His landing scuffs up the sand. He stands up, turns around, squats down as before, and... BOING! Over it once more! Keeping his back as straight as a ship's mast. Turn around... Jump! Turn around... Jump! Hehe, this is fun! He starts giggling as he gets ready to jump again. Jump! He giggles some more and grins as he turns back to face the other way. Jump! "I love this!" He keeps jumping around to and fro until he's all Currituckered out and he flops his giss down on the sand, giggling away tiredly.

~~~

After the pair concludes their delightful morning workout session, Currituck dusts whatever sand's on him off and gathers his things. His pack remains lightweight despite his muscle fatigue due to what a small amount of crap he stores in there. Just his waterskin, some rope (handy in emergencies!), his compass, his glasses, and a few other light articles. He pulls the straps over his squared shoulders and looks up at Boga. "D'you have a bar y' like t' go to, or d'y' want me t' d'cide?"

~~~

Translation of Currituck's sailor dialect:

"I'm not used to not using most or all of my body when doing physical avent."
"Do you have a bar you like to go to, or do you want me to decide?"

[Boga Negura]

When Currituck's hat nearly feel off of Currituck's head, Boga had to stop mid rep to stifle his laughter. His diaphragm clenches as he snorts through his nose, but the rest of his torso becomes weak as he snickers, resulting in him having to let his arms dangle uselessly beneath him and slouch. He's only seen Currituck without his hat firmly set upon his head a maximum of 3 times, and the bout is short-lived, so in Boga's head Currituck's hat might as well be his horns. So when it fell off, it nearly shocked Boga, as if he just witnessed the man shed his horns entirely. The moment of bewilderment mixed with the comical image of the hat dangling on the horn that Currituck did unwillingly shed just struck Bo's funny bone. When he manages to calm down his snickering, grinning with sharp canines, he starts to reach over to help stick the hat back on his head, since Currituck just kept rolling as if nothing had happened. But as he does, Currituck finishes his set and repositions it himself, Boga merely shaking his head with a concluding chuckle. They move on to the jumping exercise together, and unlike his energy-a-plenty friend, Boga doesn't view the exercise as making like a frog or any sort of critter. Bo doesn't think much of the jumping aspect at all, rather picturing the squatting parts as if he were about to lift cargo, so his jumps don't end up nearly as buoyant and playful as Currituck's endearing, spirited hops. He does put effort into his hop, making sure to gain some height, but he's nowhere near gracefully, landing on the sand hard unlike his more nimble-footed companion.

Regardless of their differences, both in their workout forms and in appearance, the unlikely pair finish their routine, Boga chugging down the last of his waterskin with a greedy tongue. When he throws the empty skin into his bag which has nothing more in it than a few ribbons and threads for hair tying and his suspenders, his head already begins to prepare to return to the boat for a few hours of sitting, pacing, and what have you. He's only reminded of the plans he made with Currituck when the sailor asks him where he'd like to go for a drink. "Oh, uh~" Bo thinks for a second, having to pull his head off the Crab Bag and into the heart of the city.

To be truly honest, Boga is rather picky with his drinks, as with his food. He's not exactly adventurous and usually gets the same thing every time on the rare occasions he does splurge and goes out. He also hasn't had much money to spend on things like drinks, so he's always had to choose the cheaper options. With all of these things in mind, the only place that consistently fits his criteria is actually the Swords and Sandals. He used to attend the establishment when he was younger and hung around verbose socialites on a daily. The grog is dirt cheap, it's strong, and it doesn't have the same intense bitterness to it as many other drinks he's attempted to down have. Some of those other drinks even have a sourness that Boga detests more than anything. But the grog at the Sandals counters that with a very light pinch of sweetness. Not in any sort of fruity way- or maybe it is fruity? Bo doesn't know he's not a chef or whoever it is who makes grogs and ales. He knows nothing of that sort of thing. All he knows is that he likes.

But it's at the Swords and Sandals. Which is a brothel. Which is not a place to really just sit and socialize over a pint. Well, you can socialize over a pint, Bo has done it before, but he's thinking that perhaps that particular location wouldn't be entirely appropriate. "I don't know. I know of the Snapdragon's Tavern and a couple of restaurants that sell beer and spirits, but I have no preference between any of them. Why don't you pick your favourite and I'll follow your lead." Who knows, maybe Currituck knows of a place that can compete with the Sandals' potent grog that he can attend more often.

Boga sheds his jacket and pinches it between his legs, immediately shivering at the wind. His shirt is untucked from all the movement and his white cotton shirt isn't broken up by his black suspenders as normal. The shirt's shade of white is that of an off-variation that suggests it has tanned into an off coloured hue due to wear and tear rather than that being its original pigment— which is a familiar appearance as this is the same shirt Boga always wears when out and about. Small, reddish-brown speckles spread across its fabric, much like freckles on a face until they smear along the bottom rim of the shirt. The stains are hollow in the center, showing that they had been washed with an effort made to cleanse them, but the outer rims still remain like vague, red-tinted coffee stains on parchment. These smudged, rust coloured blemishes are less familiar, for they were not apparent on his iconic, old shirt when the two had met.

Blood is surprisingly hard to wash out, especially after it dries to Bo's dismay.

Attempting to move quickly so he can return to the warmth of the inner lining of his jacket, Boga jams his shirt ends into his pants and grabs his suspenders from the bag, buckling the back clip slightly off-centre before pulling the two straps over his shoulders and fastening them to the front. Once done, he takes his jacket from his legs and pulls his arms through faster than a child fleeing their overbearing parents' wrath after they realize that the child fed all of their vegetables to the dog underneath the table. He buttons up and gives his arms a pat-down and tight squeeze to help bring back the insulation. "Okay, I'm ready," he completes his look by throwing his back over his shoulder. "Does the place you have in mind have a hearth? Should I bring my flint and steel in case a fire needs to be lit? Or do you want to just head straight there and pray there is one already there?" He really would like there to be a fire, but he can make do without one, he supposes. He knows not every place has a hearth.

[Currituck Itavi]

The sound of Boga's laughter stirs up empathetic mirth in Currituck's heart and cracks a smile onto his blank face. Boga keeps laughing, and laughing! His friend's amusement is part of what motivates Currituck to act like nothing is amiss with his headwear of choice. After he's got his hat back on, he looks up at Boga and finally snickers with him. In this moment the little sailor is reminded of that time about a week ago, back on The Gaudy Verse, when he also postponed his laughter for when it was more convenient for him -- or rather, in that case, for when it was more safe. The emotions his empathy takes from those memories help him to temper his mirth and complete the final set of the exercise with a straight face, his mind shifting from thoughts of Boga to thoughts of another man who's also bigger and stronger than Currituck and also has black hair and a powerful voice like Boga, but who is very different from Boga; a man whom Currituck will never tell Boga about.

"Alright! I'll take y' there."

Currituck's favorite place to go in all of Avakaron was th' seafood shack a small ways away. It was mainly a place to go for a quick bite to eat, but they also served alcohol to cash in on the tastes of their mostly-seafaring clientele. "Does the place you have in mind have a hearth?" "Nah, but it's got a firepit they bring out when it gets cold. Wouldjou rather we go someplace where we c'n go inside t' drink? Th' seafood shack down thattaway don't got any inside seatin' arrangements." The little sailor points down the beach towards a tiny shack with a veranda attached to its starboard side, on which there are a handful of tables ranging from two-top square tables to six-top round tables with what appears to be an already-lit firepit in the center of the galley. There are a few people there at the tables and bar, but it is quiet and not busy at this time. Currituck likewise discovers that his own shirt flew the coop. As he and Boga traverse down the beach, the shorter Hellbend undoes his belt, stuffs the wayward edges of his shirt down around his white undies, then refastens his belt and brushes out the wrinkles and folds of his happy top garment. Of course, Currituck endeavors for some semblance of modesty as he performs this adjustment, keeping his pants close around his waist with one hand and stuffing his shirt down with the other. He has noticed the color difference in Boga's shirt, but he doesn't say anything; it's rude to bring up the dirtiness of someone's clothes, and Currituck wants Boga to be as comfortable as possible.

[Boga Negura]

Oh, the Seafood Shack! Boga almost forgot that place existed. It's funny, thinking about it now, the closer a certain place is to his home the less it comes to mind when thinking of things to do. The Shack is literally just down that way yet it wasn't even in the list of options of potential food or drink places. He's passed by it and seen it so much from walking these shores every day that it's turned into a land feature rather than being an actual business. It's funny how familiarity can obscure memory and perception in that way. "Oh, the Shack! Yeah, we can go to the Shack, for sure. Their firepit is plenty big, that's fine with me. They have good fish there. Hold on, let me grab some coin."

Boga's almost empty pack jostles on his back as he jaunts back to the Crab Bag, dipping inside of its belly and plundering a few Skerricks from his stash. He's had to find a new place to store his coins since he had broken the side table that he used to keep it in, so now he keeps his money under his mattress. Bo shoves the Skerricks he grabs into his pants pocket and jogs up the stairs to return to Currituck. They both mosey down the way until they reach the handful of tables. The smell of simmering fish emitting from the tiny establishment overpowers the normal salty breeze. There is no line at the counter as those already there have chosen their seat and drink of choice, so Boga feels comfortable going straight to the bar and counter.

Once he gets there though and leans on the sturdy structure, Bo is reminded of one of the main reasons why he doesn't drink often. He can handle trying a drink and not like its taste or texture, but in order to do that Bo would have to order a drink first. Off the menu. Which is in written form. Usually, Sahkra or Deego or any other of his family would explain to him what each of the bold titles says and what their descriptions explain about the drink. But he's not with someone who knows of his lack of reading skills. So he can't really ask for help. Boga briefly panics, glancing about the counter until he just grabs a menu and pretends to look at the words. He knows so few words that it's pointless for him to try and decipher. He knows Lunch, Dinner, and Drinks, but any specifics is jibberish. "Uh," he clears his throat, counting to 30 in his head before putting the menu down. That should be enough time to "read" the menu, right? "You know, I'll just have whatever you're having. What better taste tester of liquor than a sailor, right?" He gives Currituck a smile. He hopes it's a convincing smile, one that doesn't show his anxiety over his lack of education. It doesn't look too nervous, right?

[Currituck Itavi]

O delight that Boga knows the place! Wait, coin?

"Wait, I said--"

Too late, Boga's done gone out of earshot. I said drinks on me... He smiles and sighs, then waits for Boga to return into speaking range. "I said drinks on me, Boga. You don't need money." He shoots him a happy grin and they continue forth. It is a delight to Currituck's heart to know that Boga is familiar with this place, and that he's comfortable here, judging by how confidently he strides up to the bar and peruses the menu. Currituck grabs one of his own, wondering if Boga would rather belly up to the bar or grab a table... Let's see... Kiwi notes, strawberry notes, blueberry no-- Boga interrupts his scanning of the varieties of rum sold here by saying he'll have what Currituck's having. Currituck raises his eyebrows and looks up at Boga. "Y'sure? I drink some strong avent." Something seems off about Boga's smile, and it makes Currituck frown. Maybe he's worried Currituck'll pick somethin' too strong f'r 'im. Or maybe he's actually nervous about being there. Currituck puts on a confident smile in attempt to put his friend at ease.

Can I get a uhhhhhh...

"Two Avakaron's Own, please." It was a locally-brewed hard cider with miniscule alcohol content compared to Currituck's usual choice of straight rum, but nonetheless has delightful fruit notes from the fruit of the trees of the White Wood Forest. If Boga prefers stronger, I can always buy him somethin' else. "And I'd like a shot a' rum with mine, please, sir." Gotta get that rum. He looks up at Boga to see if he'd like a shot as well as the Hellbend behind the counter prepares their drinks, two bottles and one shot glass. "Where we sittin', Boga?" Currituck puts his hands behind his back and taps the toe of his right boot against the ground idly.