Zlaw's Echo

Sitting at a table in the corner of the local watering hole, a woman is studying a couple of maps, by lantern-light. Despite her activity, she does not seem to mind the drunken sailors celebrating being back to shore after months at sea, nor the miners unwinding after a hard day of digging, still covered in soot. After all, they are part of the charm of the place, and even the other quieter patrons appear amused by their antics. At one point, a man in a unironed shirt enters the bar, and goes straight for the woman as soon as he has located her. He hasn't even reached her that she raises a hand to stop him, before even looking up from her work. "Let me guess: you're mounting an expedition, and you'd like me to be your navigator." His smile widens. He isn't even going to bother denying the accusation: "You're the best one out there." "I'm really not." "You are to me…" She sighs, and lowers her hand to interlace her ...