Paplo ate absently from his jar of meat, which he found tasted quite delicious compared to his standard, raw and fresh meat. Adding a bit of salt was already quite the improvement of taste, yet now it wasn’t only salt what he tasted, but also black pepper, some sort of vegetable oil, and inferior cooking skills he nonetheless appreciated. The texture was appealing, for the sauce was not too thick nor too thin. So appealing, truly, that the male couldn’t help but let out a small moan upon flickering his tongue upon the mysteriously-present spoon, cutlery whose origins none of the crew could explain. The teacher made an effort to eat slowly and delight on the food rather than just pushing it down his throat, a challenging task for something like himself. So focused he was in his manners that Paplo forgot how much his teeth ached from his fall.
“None taken,” replied Paplo to the female’s response. Having no true interest in sailing, he’d need to find a different sort of activity both of them could practice in order to grow closer. Maybe dissing Vuda would work. “It’s a shame our employer doesn’t pay. I would’ve managed to buy said boat much faster were it not for his desire of cheap labor.”
Unlike Tirta, Paplo took very good care of his own food, so much that, the moment the female’s jerky flew to the deck, the Mortalborn wrapped his hands tightly around his ration, as if suddenly the waves would rise in attempts of stealing this little charade of a meal. Those calm and educated manners of his ended, for now he ate like a rodent, barely letting the spoon kiss the air as he basically poured the can within his maws. Furthermore, his eyes flew to the sides, suspiciously, paranoidly, as if the waves were to truly attempt a robbery. Thankfully, Tirta’s presence avoided this lapse of judgement to last too long.
“Oh, ugh,” he muttered, raising his almost-empty can of meat. “These two were the last ones, unless you’ve hidden some under the bed.”
Considering her bed was actually a hammock, perhaps she’d notice the hint of humour behind said statement.
Even if stil chasing some meager jesting, Paplo was worried. Vuda had made a promise, issued a challenge. What would it entail, however? Would the waves rise and block the way out of the bay? Would the boat simply sink? Vuda was a powerful individual. The first time Paplo had met him, the mortal born was captured and tossed in a cell owned, apparently, by Vuda himself. One little mistake, one missing meal, had made him go insane with hunger, and before he realized it, he had been eating through the Etzori crowds. Thankfully, it was only a whore what he had eaten. He still remembered he reasoning for this; she sold her body as a good, and Kovic had made it clear he'd get his money's worth of the good she sold. Even so, the whole problem began with the fact that Vuda knew about his... condition. From that moment forward, Paplo had been slowly trying to work his way behind Vuda, so that a knife could plunge into his neck and the secret of Paplo's monstrous nature could die with the Advisor.
Tirta could be used. Even if they didn't have much of a connection for now, Paplo would work his magic on her, so that she could serve as a surrogate for Kovic's betrayal. She was a mage, and Vuda wanted mages. Perhaps she could either convinced or manipulated to do Paplo's dirty work, to bury the secret she would never expect from such a fine man the Mortalborn played to be. Even he didn't realized that he needed her more than she needed him, and seldom were the ocassions when this happened. The teacher often felt in control. However, whenever he recalled Vuda, he wondered if the advisor could see right into his head. Perhaps he knew what Paplo was trying, and so he'd kill them both just to be sure the insurrection never happened. Perhaps he'd turn Tirta against him, and be there to witness how Paplo, once again, made a mistake he'd have to pay.