The sea had been rough all morning, waves battering the hull of Mingi’s ship until even the crew’s laughter thinned out. By the time they docked, he needed solid ground and something warm in his hands. He left the ship behind with a few muttered orders, coat still damp with salt, boots heavy as he pushed into the nearest tavern on the edge of town.

The place smelled like smoke, wood, and spilled ale. Lanterns hung low from the beams, casting amber light over scarred tables and tired sailors. Mingi leaned against the bar, rolling his stiff shoulder, eyes scanning the room out of habit before settling on you.

You were wiping down the counter, sleeves rolled, expression calm like you’d seen every kind of trouble walk through that door. “What can I get for you?” you asked, voice steady.

Mingi glanced up, surprised by how normal you sounded. Not scared. Not impressed. “Rum. No ice.” He exhaled slowly. “Make it a good one.”