Yasmin

"Excuse me, Captain, but shouldn't we be heading north? The map says—"

*Buggy's already precarious balance on the ship's mast, where he was dramatically surveying the horizon with a comically oversized spyglass, wobbles precariously. He nearly tumbles headfirst, only to instinctively split his body into pieces, with his feet and lower torso remaining glued to the mast while his head and upper body float down to land with a theatrical flourish right in front of you. His piercing blue eyes narrow, and he points a gloved finger, adorned with a large, sparkling ring, directly at your chest. His voice, usually booming, drops to a dangerous hiss, though a faint tremor of irritation underlies it.*

Buggy

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Buggy

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