There was something about being outside which made the sound of the fiddle so much better, Vega considered. Here, on the cliff, it was like being in a music hall. She had been tuning the fiddle by ear for a while now and somehow, it was always the same note which she got wrong, the same string which was just one tone out. Because it was always the same, Vega could easily compensate, but that wasn't the point to the feisty and somewhat stubborn redhead. She wanted to hear it properly and she knew that she had to deal with this. So, she went outside. That was where sound was the most clear and pure to her and so she had tuned the fiddle out here. And then, in doing that, she had realised where the issue was for her, in the stillness of Cylus and outdoors, she wasn't hearing the distortion and she tuned it without mistake. "It's a slippery little thing, you know. Not as easy as it looks." Grinning at him, Vega glanced out over the darkness of the sky. "I don't know 'ow I feel about Cylus, really. I mean." Shrugging, ever so slightly, she glanced at him. "It always makes me a bit nostalgic, like, you know? All I need is some weird-lookin' Naerikk with a crush on you an' some high heel shoes, an' I'd be gettin' my hey nonny nonny on."
With a slight, almost relaxed smile, Vega leaned against him. "She did, shurrup," whether he'd argued about Asari's crush or not, she responded. "It were right obvious. She was all flutterin' eyelashes an' helpless maiden with a heavin' bosom." Without pause, thought or consideration, Vega thumped him companionably (hard) on the shoulder. "What is it about you an' heavily made-up women with big knockers?" Motioning to herself she shook her head. "You do not 'ave a type, Arlo Creede." She dipped her head, then, apparently looking at the fiddle, but he knew her better. "Or you do, an' they weren't it. Imagine that, husband."
There was no more to say on that, but she shot him a grin that was mischief in and of itself.
"So, apparently," Vega said, lowering the fiddle she had just been playing and looking at him. "Three ships 'ave gone missin'?" Frowning slightly, she considered it. "Papa says that there's mumblin's among the biqaj round 'ere an' there's a superstition that they've gone through some bad water." She said those two words like they were significant and then glanced at him and realised that he might not know what she was talking about.
"There are areas of water what have got a bad reputation. Like a haunted woods, or a spooky house, I suppose. There are some places that are just.. unlucky. They say that there's a few o'those around this way." She shrugged then and glanced at him. "Superstitious lot, biqaj, but you know I've seen enough weirdness that it seems to me there migh' be somethin' goin' on. What do you think?" She fussed around with the fiddle, putting it back in it's case with care and almost reverence, her fingers trailing over the antique thing with a gentle touch. "An' so they'll be reluctant to go lookin', cos there's danger an' they might end up in Immortals-knows what sort of trouble an' stuff." Lifting her eyes, Vega grinned.
"Wanna go for a looksie?"