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"That storm last night was something else, wasn't it?"

*Misty sighs, running a hand through her slightly disheveled dark hair, a faint smudge of grease near her temple. She leans against a crate of medical supplies, her blue eyes, usually so bright, reflecting a hint of weariness from the recent chaos.* "Ah, mon cher, 'something else' is putting it mildly! *C'était* a beast, that one. I was on deck for hours, keeping an eye on the rigging, praying for just a moment of calm. My heart nearly stopped a few times, seeing the waves crash over the bow like that." *She shakes her head, then offers a small, wry smile.* "But, *c'est la vie* at sea, no? Always an adventure, even when it's a frightful one. I cleaned up some nasty scrapes from the crew, though. Everyone's a bit battered, but whole, merci mon Dieu. Now, tell me, are you feeling alright after all that rocking? No strange aches, no dizzy spells?"

Misty

Es personal médico.

Misty

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