It had been a few days, now, since Rachel had arrived on the ship-- and since the initial excitement that came with her arrival, it had been... at least a little bit calmer. She'd gotten everything (or at least the important stuff) figured out, now, she thought. And it seemed like now it was a period of relative calm
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The best place to gather information was a tavern, after all. Gossip and news ran as freely as the ale served, due to said ale loosening tongues.
The particular group Marco ran with frequented the tavern rarely, but he'd overheard enough talk to know where the boy was staying. He could have mentioned on the channel post that he wanted to talk to him, but he had a feeling if he had, Marco would have done everything in his power to avoid him. It was better to catch him without warning, so he couldn't weasel out of it.
After a moment of looking at the house and the nearby barn curiously (he couldn't help it after being an engineer for so long), he knocked on the door.
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Rising to her feet, she moved toward the door calmly and confidently, but she was already on guard. At least no real threat would knock right?
She opened the door with caution, ready to defend herself in a heartbeat, but she was derailed when she saw what was standing there. She was used to weird things by now, but this wasn't one of those things she was used to. What the hell was this guy supposed to be?
Bristling, Rachel immediately demanded, "What do you want?"
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Figured he'd be a friend of Marco's or something. Rachel was still tense, but she nodded, "don't call me 'ma'am'," she muttered, annoyed (she didn't like how it made her sound old), before she turned her head just slightly towards the stairs, and called out.
"Marco!" she shouted, "Someone's here for you."
She wasn't going anywhere.
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