Elvira is exploring the docks, her boots clicking upon the freshly polished wood as she gazes out into the open ocean. She then looks to the sky where seagulls squawk loudly. The corner of her lips curve into a small smirk.

She walks to the quarter-master, piquing a brow. "And where may we be goin’, mate?" She snickers quietly, eyeing the man with slitted eyes.