By Court and Cargo.

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This time it was he who didn't bother raising an objection. No sense in going thirsty after all.
"John! Two please! Cold as ya got!" There wasn't a reply more than a grunted guffaw from the gorilla of a man that made Cobiah look like a child.

"Good thinking. I talk better when I'm not thirsty." It was an oafish grin now on his face as the drinks were delivered. Tin flagons topped to the brim in stereotypical beer fashion. A pence to pay them both dropped into the waiting server girls hand, or was that two because of her bright smile?
 
When the server girl's back was to them, Adella reached into her blouse and yanked out her bulging coin purse. Honestly, it was amazing how well she could hide such a mound within her bodice. Adella didn't exactly have much to ogle at unless one was drunk and keeping an eye out for an easy target. Pulling out a coin, she slid it across the table to the man. "You may tip for smiles all you want to, but I will not have you covering my share." She slipped the pouch back and wrapped her hands around her mug. The smell was already making her nauseous. How could people drink this concoction? Holding her breath, she took a sip and immediately set the ale down. "This... is awful," she announced with a soured look.
 
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When that coin purse came his eyes went as wider as saucers. A soft whistle escaping his mouth just past the foam of his flagon. It didn't take him long to take a long swig and set it down, once more generically wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "I tip 'er cause she's got a boy at home who needs raisin'. The smile's just a bonus." Another brief swig, it was bitter, but the cold helped that one. "It ain't no fine mar-low or vin du mois." How he managed french in a less than butchered accent was likely a small act of God.

"So tell me now." A brief look about the room as if to sate her paranoia. "What're you doin' out of your cage, sparrow?"
 
Adella pushed her mug across the table to sit next to the coin, her appetite now completely diminished. She folded her hands in front of herself and leaned forward onto her elbows to lessen the distance between the sailor and herself. Nothing but an agitated sigh and a quick roll of the eye suggested her displeasure at being likened to a sparrow, never mind the cage for that was true enough in its own way. Oh, why was she fool enough to trust such delicate information with the old barnacle? Well, there was very little she could do about it now, what with owing him for saving her earlier that day though she was loathe to admit it.

"You must not share this with another soul," she said quietly, "but there is some concern in regards to Her Majesty's proclamation. Whispers of contention among the nobles and unrest in the heavily catholic areas of the province have reached Her Majesty's ears. I left her highness's service to investigate these claims."
 
For all intents and purposes Cobiah looked enthralled by what she said. He wasn't often privy to take a fancy to gossip and other such juicy stories, but of course, curiosity was always at his doorstep and he rarely bothered to ignore its call. It wasn't that he liked to pass it around, just find that grain of truth and remember it for a later time, even if he often forgot it.

"Really and truly?" He queried with raised brows and wide eyes. "You? Workin' for her' Majesty to try an' root out angry folks cause the church don't like her bein' on that seat? Yer' makin' a joke about it. Ain't no way."
 
Adella's eyes flashed angrily, not having the strength to check it. She hissed, "Did you not hear a word I said, you impertinent, beef-witted barnacle? I have left her Majesty's service and it is the catholics posing the possible threat, not The Church." The maid shook her head wearily and sighed. "I don't even remember why I'm confiding in you."
 
"Cause I'm the best looking bloke willing to lend ya an ear?" He quipped sarcastically as he leaned over on his elbow. Trying to digest all that she'd said without confusing himself. There was a place for politics and the like, wherever that was he didn't belong there.

"So you're cut off then.." Less a question and more of the slow realization. An impressed whistle left his lips before taking of sip of the bitter yet chilled beverage.
 
"From the court, yes," she snapped, biting her tongue to keep the rest of her information to herself. But it wasn't enough to silence the mumble of, "Thank God," at the end of her sentence. "Was there anything else you particularly needed to know before I collapse?"
 
"Not likely I believe." A sip of his bitter drink made his nose wrinkle a bit, the cold only adding to the roughness the drink had. Not wholly bad for drinking, it sure best the city water.

Finally setting it down his eyes fell across her with the all too apparent gaze of appraisal. "You're either damn good at yer' part or knee deep in the Thames muck an' mire, Addy.."
 
"Hopefully it is the former, sir," Adella replied, her shoulders straightening just slightly as his eyes took their time assessing her. There wasn't anything alarming in his gaze, but-- dare she guess it-- a hint of respect or admiration? She felt like gloating at the thought, but kept her lips pinched to keep her smile to herself. She had yet to fully prove her right to declare herself the victor between the two of them.

After a few moments of returning his gaze, she dropped her eyes and began shuffling herself out of the booth. "I should get going if I am going to catch my ride back to the house." Having dislodged herself, she shook out her skirts and turned to Cobiah. He really wasn't that bad, not for a barbaric barnacle. And she owed him, whether she was willing to admit it or not. Adella dipped her head, "Thank you, Coby, for earlier."
 
His head dipped down in some boring form of submission with a coy from stuck to his mouth at that tight lipped look. It was a bit funny the way it made her face scrunch of just s little bit, a line here, a taut cheek there, never did it bother his ego to allow someone a moment in the sun.

"Ain't no need to thank me. Any gentleman would'a done just what I did, but the salt would be in chains for it. We just got 'im a bit wet." The thought to stay wasn't a hard one to make, the hour was later and she was alone, only proper and polite to finish his escort. Sliding out of the seat as well. "If yer ever in need of a set o' hands feel free to ask for me from the locals. With the docks slow I got plenty of honest men looking for honest labor."
 
Apparently, the bloke felt it necessary to keep his eye on her. Adella sighed inwardly, but she didn't mind, not really. All it took was one little recollection of this morning's incident to convince herself that she really would appreciate the extra company. Turning sharply on her heel, the lady clipped a steady pace towards the exit, keeping half of her attention on where she was going and the other half on what the oaf was saying.

"The docks? Why are the docks slow?" she asked, confused but intrigued nonetheless.
 
His intention to leave followed hers as he dropped a few pence for wasting the last inch of his drink. "People are worried. Could be lots of unrest if the queen, (beloved by all of her subjects!), were to be taken down. There might even be some war or battles if you listen to what the gutters say." It was all played off with a nonchalant shrug. His little blessing was met with a few half wet approvals and only a single boo from a less than sober geezer.

"M'hoping to be outta this city of that goes down. Royal business." It was sweet to his tongue to know something few did, but that only made it harder to keep secret.
 
Adella balked at his answer, clearly at a loss as to what to say in reply as they exited the tavern and she started towards the rendezvous point with her maid. Her mind whirled within her head, picking up implications, drawing conclusions, and coming up with a host of questions. Trade had slowed because of rumors? How backwards were the simple common folk? Did they have no understanding of how a society was run or what loyalty meant? Did they not realize England was free from the scepter of Rome even after all these years of establishing the Protestant movement?

Perhaps.... this barbaric barnacle would be a decent enough source of information for her to begin her inquiries. Although he obviously kept his head out of figuring things out for himself, it wasn't a dull head that sat atop his shoulders. The lady bunched her skirts higher to keep from tripping and posed her first set of questions-- more in the form of excited statements-- to the sailor.

"But surely the people know that what the Pope declares or doesn't declare shouldn't affect our kingdom! We aren't under Catholic rule!"
 
The humid night air greeted him, with that bite of the chill that was brought on when the wind's blew just right. Though it was easy to desire to dismiss the girl and her sudden shouting. Arms quickly rose in gesture to attempt and quiet her down with a hiss to his voice. "Keep yer' voice down girl. You'll cause a problem an' I don't like problems.." Thick brows knitted together in mild annoyance that she'd let an outburst like that come out, Coby had thought better of her in that regard.

"If'n ya' must know.. We ain't under their rule, but plenty o' places are an' it ain't hard for a few voices to get folks gossipin' about war coming to our shores like the ol' days. God save the Queen an' all, love, but by the Lord's larder ya' can't blame us for worryin'." Slowly his face began to relax, as if a weight had been lifted quite quickly.
 
Glaring at the man, Adella crossed her arms over her chest. Keep her voice down? If it'd been any lower, he wouldn't have heard a syllable. But she didn't protest the injustice and focused instead on what he was saying.

It made a certain sense to her, which surprised her. Worry was a powerful enemy, and greed even more so. How Spain would love to get her fingers on their island! And if overseas trade could be weakened, it would strengthen the Spanish monarch's chances of seeing England in his hands. All the court would need to do would be to place a few well-situated spies, whisper the right words to the right nobles... Her eyes travelled to Cobiah's again in question.

"What is your opinion?" she whispered as inaudibly as possible to keep him from shouting at her again and drawing more attention to themselves. "Is there a real threat?"
 
She was asking him?! Of course she was, he could very well be the voice of the small community below the bridge line. That made his chest swell a bit with some pride that wasn't much deserved.

"Could be. Wars been fought for less. Haven't they?" Less a question to her and more to himself, history wasn't his strong suit in this country. His parents home land he knew more about.

"People are worried. Course they are. Don't get along too well with the spaniards. Well I do. But most folks don't."
 
So, the barnacle had no qualms with the Spaniards and felt there was something to worry about. That didn't sit well in her gut, but she kept it to herself. "I'll keep that in mind." The lady paused on the dimly lit street corner and gestured towards the lamppost. "My ride will be meeting me here, sir. Thank you for the escort, though it was really unnecessary."
 
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