The food is always good, much to Edwin's disappointment. People always ask his opinion, and when the food is always good all he can say is that the food is good. They get paid hundreds per charter but then they are forced to take their leisure time in the streets where the rich play too. The food is always good at the expense of the small tip they received. The food is always good, and so Edwin goes to talk to the head chef and ask for his local supplier.

"Well?" Audrey Wilson reaches an arm out for him. They are all huddled outside of the restaurant, and while the day was warm, the night air is whistling and brisk. Edwin wraps an arm around her as they begin to make their way to the first club.

"Not the guy I picked," Edwin pulls out his phone. "I'm texting Shells, asking if she can switch it while on anchor watch. Yeah yeah, Captain Shelly. What the fuck ever."

Audrey Wilson giggles, leaning her shoulder against him if for the briefest second. She's got three inches on him, but Edwin isn't the kind of man who gives a fuck about anything. Audrey Wilson spends enough time in the mirror to recognize a liar when she sees one. At least he's so arrogant he doesn't recognize Audrey Wilson for Marlene.

"Come on," Finn bends over, blocking August's path.

He gestures, arms stretched out behind him ready to catch him. August shakes his head. Joy drops her conversation with Lina and leaps onto Finn's back. He stumbles one step and then straightens, shrugging her up onto his back. Then, Finn starts to sprint. Joy shrieks, wrapping her arms around him tightly and laughing.

Audenzia, watching the scene, rolls her eyes. Ethan has his arms crossed over his chest too.

"Do they make painfully sweet candies? Or are people like them enough for that?"

Ethan kicks a rock on the road, "I think it's just sour candy."

"They are..." Audenzia trails off as Finn begins to turn, heading back to them. She plasters a smile on her face and waves.

Ethan pulls his eyes in tighter against himself. He only ever lets himself get paid to fake a smile. Here, he lets himself scowl.

The same expression shrouds Bellamy's face. He walks next to Devon and both of them cast a glance back toward the docks at the same time. Ophelia's Violet is hulking, but none of them can see it right now. Even on sturdy ground, Bellamy feels the hollowness of the deck beneath his feet. He would shout it until his voice went hoarse. If only he could talk to Shelly, even tonight since Devon is, for once, not on the ship conducting anchor watch or otherwise glued to her side. Bastard that he is, looking back at it too.

Devon doesn't like the ground either. He'd much rather be out of deck, staring at the waves, their crests and troughs, the steady rhythm of the sea being called by the moon, the salt and sand and stickiness of heat.

"Dev, think fast," Vic calls out.

Devon fumbles to catch his wallet. Vic laughs. She wraps an arm around August and pulls him in close just as Joy and Finn dart past from behind. Lina knows to move. She saw the throw coming, saw the grip of Vic before it touched August, and now she sees no one watching them on the streets. It's a kind feeling, a relief. Like a sprinkler in the grass on a hot summer day. Lina hasn't frolicked since she was a child. Now, she raises her hands, reaching them up to the starlit sky.

They get to the first bar, where Vic challenges everyone to shots. Edwin takes her up, and suddenly the night starts to blur. Joy has the fewest drinks, only two at the first bar which by their standards is very few. Then again, her medications make the night slippery, wet and wild.

The colourful lights feel like spotlights on August. The blue makes him look less red, less flushed with heat and embarrassment.

"D... darn Shelly!" he sloppily wraps an arm around Lina, resting his temple against hers. "I want to work with you!!"

His words become more consistent with a drink in his hand. It doesn't escape Lina, who has her arms pulled in just as tightly. She only lets herself have a few, just in case. Especially in unfamiliar places where men have wandering hands and tourists have flashing cameras.

"What?" she yells back. She heard him fine but just wants to hear it repeated.

"I said, I like working with you," he jabs at her side with a finger, and she smiles, brushing him off.

Joy grabs August around his arm and pulls him onto the dance floor. They dance side by side, refreshing compared to some of the others.

In tandem, Audenzia and Finn sway their hips, flushed bodies and sweaty necks. The room is perfumed with sweat and spilt liquor, but she smells like candy, like the sweetness of fairy floss that melts on your tongue. Audenzia feels like a memory, even before him.

The alcohol cools the headache she gets from him. With Finn behind her, Audenzia doesn't need to flinch from his brightness. She casts a shadow on the dancefloor.

Nearby, Edwin's hands hold onto Audrey Wilson's hips. He feels the pads of his hands through her tight dress. He's not quite handsome, not in the way that is easily explained. No one knows anything about him, the string of lies longer than his recipe book. Audenzia is sure of exactly enough to know that whatever he is hiding behind his cologne and his smirk, it isn't money.

He has no idea what she hides. Isn't even aware that there are aspects of Audrey Wilson that might be fabricated because he can feel her hip bones jutting out, see her collarbone, know her flesh so intimately. It's the kind of behaviour he would only engage in while drunk. Like, kissing a man.

He cups her face. She blows on his nose and he laughs.

Ignoring them, Ethan tries to dance. He's lanky and awkward, but so is Devon and that isn't stopping him. He bobs to the music, using his elbows too much for his own good. Ethan's never had to keep an eye out on Devon before. The crowd is pushing in, and Ethan finds himself nudging in Devon's elbows. Devon looks up and laughs.

Ethan smiles too. He leans in close to whisper.

"How many shots did you do?"

Devon looks down at his mostly empty plastic cup. He takes Ethan's, which is empty, and stacks it beneath his and passes it back to Ethan. Not enough for him to throw up, but Devon's stomach starts to twist. Too much, too much.

There is nowhere to put down the cup. Instead, Ethan pats Devon, rubbing the taut muscles between his shoulder and his neck.

"You're too good, you know," Devon whispers. "Better than I ever was."

"What?" Ethan yells back, but Devon doesn't repeat himself.

Unlike Devon, Vic orders another shot. Then, another. Bellamy thinks he's going to puke since he keeps drinking Vic's drink when she isn't looking. She's twelve in, and at this point, Bellamy's got to be approaching the same. She won't stop though, and the drinks keep coming even though her elbows are digging into the counter and she isn't holding herself up.

It's always like this. The third time they went out, the guys drew straws afterwards to see who would be the one to lug her back to the yacht. Bellamy lost, but he doesn't drag anyone. If Vic goes unconscious, he's leaving her.

"Come on," he says, trying to wrench her from the bar. He fears he'd need a crowbar to pry her off the thing. Then, he looks at the bartender, "cut her off."

The bartender glares at him. Vic's eyes are glossy, unaware. Bellamy grunts, digging into his pocket.  The bartender continues to stare, and Bellamy grumbles as he throws down a thousand lek. The bartender keeps staring, so he throws down three thousand lek, not bothering to do the conversion to British pounds in his head. He's too drunk, but he knows he overpaid.

This whole night wasn't worth the cost.

~~~

In the bridge, Shelly hovers over her laptop. The charges made to the business account are too low. Reading through the statement confirms her suspicions. Without anyone here, she shouldn't leave the bridge. Someone must be on anchor watch, but she hasn't got the time to complain.

So, she heads below deck, down into the gally. There, she begins to take stock of all the food they have. The preferences sheets for the clients said they were looking forward to trying new cuisine, but that was when they were in Greece. Do they want Montenegrin cuisine, or do they still want Greek? Shelly has lived here all her life, and can count on one hand the number of nights she dined on beaches in Montenegro. How would she even order food?

A shadow crosses behind her. She flinches, flipping around.

Behind her, a girl laughs.

"Shells, did I scare you?"

"What are you doing here?" Shelly asks, furrowing her brow.

It has been over a year since Shelly last laid eyes on Zahira Shaikh. She remembers the day exactly. The sand stuck in her black shoes, her mother fumbling in her heels on the beach, and Cruise standing on one side of her and Zahira's brother, Tahir on the other.

"You asked me for the name of my supplier, via email," Zahira pulls out her phone, wagging it. "I tried calling, but-"

"Oh, I only have a work phone now," Shelly smiles.

Zahira taps Shelly's shoulder playfully, "now, tell me about this chef. He is convinced there isn't a good supplier in Dhermi?"

"Sounds like it," Shelly forces a smile, "but I know you. You'd only order from the best."

"True," Zahira nearly sings the word. She digs into her purse and pulls out two takeout containers. "Some food, for you. Course, it's delicious. But you know I'd leave it in a heartbeat just to be your sous-chef."

Shelly sighs. This conversation isn't new, "the crew quarters is only fit for twelve. We could do thirteen, theoretically, but you'd have to room with Vic and me, and I can't think of a more cramped situation."

"You're no fun anymore," Zahira taps her fingers on the marble counters.

She sighs, the blunt bangs on her head rising and falling. Then she stands upright. Abruptly, so rigid Shelly wonders if there is a spider on her back. There aren't many here like there are back home. Zahira isn't afraid of them like she is tight spaces.

"What?" Shelly smiles. She looks around. "Suddenly realize boats are cramped?"

"No, I've been on your yacht too much for that," Zahira's words are rapid fire, and then she slows again. "I just... I forgot to tell you. Tahir is getting married."

Shelly blinks, "really?"

"My parents set it up," Zahira explains. "And I'm next. Unless, well could you do me a favour?"

Shelly hears something thumping. It might be her heart, but it sounds external. Zahira doesn't seem to notice.

"Zahira-"

"Just to the next port," she begs. She places her hands together, the gold bangles on her left wrist jingling as she mocks prayer. "Come on, Shelly. I'd owe you anything."

Shelly has to fight not to rub her temples. They're throbbing, pounding. Or maybe they aren't. Usually, it is easy to tell when something is external to her. Today, it feels impossible.

"I'll decide tomorrow," Shelly says. "We're leaving in two days anyway. So, it'll give you time to really think over if this is the best call."

"Scout's honour," Zahira places a hand over her heart.

And crosses her fingers behind her back.

~~~~~

Wow. On time yet again. I'm not as used to writing characters with pre-established relationships, so I still appreciate feedback! Also, nothing exactly is set in stone! I don't mean to be setting up any necessarily romantic relationships here, but just fun and interesting dynamics. As always, let me know what you think.

Also, information on my profile, but I've started a discord server. cryptidminds mentioned a while ago bingo for Overboard, like bingo card prediction stuff, and I found a place to set it up! It also has channels for every apply fics on there so if you ever have thoughts or want to see more behind the scenes wip stuff head there.

Also thanks to RockingGirl06 for Zahira!