The Prostitute

Salt spray mists Shiro's face as she perches at the ship's bow. Friend nestles against her boot, offering silent comfort as waves crash against the hull.

Footsteps approach from behind - light, measured steps that can only belong to Sabine. The woman settles beside Shiro, her dark hair whipping in the ocean breeze.

"You look like you've been dragged through hell backwards." Sabine's lips curl into a half-smile. "Trust me, I know that look."

Sabine pulls out a cigarette, then thinks better of it as the wind whips around them. "You know what your brooding reminds me of? This one client I had - some hotshot corporate type. Thought he owned the world because he had the penthouse suite." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Shows up wearing this ridiculous silk robe with peacock feathers. Who even does that?"

"So there he is, strutting around like some exotic bird, when his wife calls. Man practically falls off the balcony trying to hide." Sabine mimes an exaggerated stumbling motion. "Ends up dangling by his fancy robe, screaming like a stuck pig while I'm trying not to laugh and give him away."

Friend pecks curiously at Sabine's boots, making her chuckle. "Had to pull him back in by his ankles. Ruined the robe completely. He was so mad, but what's he gonna do? Tell his wife how it happened?"

Shiro's shoulders shake with silent laughter.

"That's not even the worst part," Sabine continues, warming to her audience. "Next week he shows up again - wearing the exact same robe, badly sewn back together. Says it's his lucky charm now." She shakes her head. "Men, right? They're all either peacocks or pigeons, no in between."

A small sound escapes Shiro - something between a cough and a laugh.

Sabine's smile widens at the sound of Shiro's laugh. The girl's usual icy demeanor cracks, revealing something softer underneath - like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Friend clucks and waddles between them, pecking at the hem of Sabine's dress.

"Look at that, even your feathered friend approves." Sabine reaches down to stroke Friend's head. The chicken preens under the attention, tilting her head to eye Sabine's sparkly bracelet. "Though I think she's more interested in anything shiny she can get her beak on."

The tension in Shiro's shoulders melts away as she watches Friend's antics. Her posture opens up, no longer closed off against the world.

"You know," Sabine says, "sometimes it helps to talk. Not that I'm pushing - but I've got two good ears and zero judgment."

Shiro's fingers trace patterns in the condensation on the metal railing. "Once... there was this place. Haven." Her voice comes out rough, unused.

"Haven was different. Not like other orphanages. Mother made sure of that. Even when the walls cracked and the roof leaked, Mother found ways to make us smile."

Sabine listens, her expression carefully neutral as Shiro continues.

"I used to play tricks. Hide Mother's favorite teacup. Rearrange the kitchen supplies. She always knew it was me, but she'd play along. Make a big show of searching everywhere while I watched from behind the curtains."

"Big Sis Nem would scold me for it. Said I should be more respectful. But she'd still sneak me extra portions at dinner when I was hungry. Always looking out for the younger ones."

Friend clucks softly, settling against Shiro's ankle.

"Sometimes, when it rained, Mother would gather us all in the common room. Read stories about places we'd never seen. Worlds beyond the orphanage walls. Nem would braid the younger girls' hair while we listened."

Sabine remains still beside her, a quiet presence as the waves crash against the hull.

"Even when the war got worse, when supplies ran low, Mother kept us together. Made games out of patching clothes, turning stale bread into bread pudding."

"Then one day, they came." Shiro's words cut off sharp as a blade. Her shoulders lock, fingers curling into fists beneath her long sleeves. Friend startles at the sudden tension, feathers ruffling as she skitters back a step.

Sabine, sensing Shiro's unease, draws her attention to Friend with an exaggerated gesture. "So what's the deal with your feathered companion here? Never seen anyone traveling with food before."

Friend perks up at the attention, strutting between them with renewed purpose. The tension in Shiro's shoulders eases as she watches the chicken's display.

"She found me, actually." Shiro rubs the faint scar. "Got a bite trying to take her out from one of my crates."

Sabine dangles a loose thread from her sleeve, watching Friend bob and weave to catch it. "So what do you feed this little thief? Can't imagine you're hauling chicken feed across the ocean."

"She eats anything." Shiro watches as Friend abandons the thread to investigate a shiny button on Sabine's dress. "Once caught her trying to swallow a wrench."

"Ambitious girl." Sabine scratches under Friend's wing, earning a content cluck. "Does she lay eggs? Could start a floating breakfast business."

"Sometimes. Usually drops them in inconvenient places." Shiro watches as Friend settles into Sabine's lap, eyes half-closed in pleasure. "Found one in my boot last week."

"Entrepreneurial spirit. I respect that." Sabine strokes Friend's feathers. "Must get lonely out here though, just you two."

"She talks enough for ten people. Especially when she's hungry."

"Which is always, I'm guessing?" Sabine grins as Friend demonstrates perfect timing by pecking hopefully at her pocket.

"You have no idea."

Friend abandons her search for snacks and waddles back to Shiro, pressing against her leg with familiar comfort. The tension that had gripped Shiro earlier has melted away, replaced by something lighter.

"Thanks. For... this."

Shiro studies Sabine's face, noting the absence of protective gear. "The fumes don't bother you?"

"Worried about little old me?" Her lips curve into a knowing smile. "Don't be. Got myself a shiny new RespirX last year."

"Those aren't cheap."

"Well, my particular line of work..." Sabine adjusts her dress. "Let's just say the clients prefer seeing my whole face. Gas masks aren't exactly sexy, you know? Plus, the really wealthy ones - they expect a certain standard. Can't have their entertainment choking on toxic air mid-session."

She runs a finger along her collarbone where the surgical scar would be hidden. "Had to save up for months, but beats dying young. And the regulars actually pitched in once they realized they wouldn't have to stare at filters anymore."

"Besides," Sabine adds, scratching under Friend's wing, "in my experience, breathing is generally considered an attractive quality."

Sabine's eyes drift over Shiro's profile, lingering on her stark white hair catching the sunlight. "You know, with looks like yours, you could make a fortune in my line of work."

Friend clucks disapprovingly, but Sabine continues, her voice taking on a playful lilt. "I'm serious. The really wealthy ones? They'd pay double just to say they spent a night with someone who looks like they stepped out of a fairytale. Triple, if you keep up that whole 'ice queen' act." She gestures at Shiro's pale features. "White hair and porcelain skin are practically currency these days. My clients would trip over themselves to book you."

"Think about it - no more wrestling with the sea." Sabine grins, nudging Shiro's shoulder.

Shiro rises slowly. "Thanks for the career advice."

Friend follows suit, fluttering to her feet at the sudden movement.

"Wait." Sabine's hand catches Shiro's sleeve. "There's something else."

Shiro pauses, her back still turned.

"The fare. I've been meaning to ask, but you're weren't exactly approachable at first."

"Truth is," Sabine continues, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress, "I'm a bit short on traditional payment methods right now. But..." She stands, closing the distance between them. "I could offer alternative compensation."

Her hand trails up Shiro's arm, feather-light. "If you're interested in that sort of arrangement."

Shiro remains motionless. Friend tilts her head curiously.

"Most captains I've met..." Sabine's breath ghosts across Shiro's ear. "They're quite open to negotiation."

Shiro's muscles tense beneath Sabine's touch. Her breath catches, an unfamiliar warmth spreading across her neck where Sabine's words landed.

The sensation of another's touch - it's been so long. Too long. A part of her yearns to lean into that warmth, to let someone past the walls she's built. But experience has taught her the price of trust.

Shiro turns slowly, studying Sabine's face. The woman's eyes hold no malice, only a mix of calculation and genuine interest. But Shiro has seen that look before - in traders seeking leverage, in passengers hunting secrets.

Friend pecks at Sabine's boot, breaking the tension. Shiro uses the distraction to step back, creating space between them. Her scaled hands flex beneath her sleeves, a reminder of why closeness is dangerous.

"Is this still about the fare?" Shiro watches Sabine's expression carefully. "Or something else?"

Sabine steps back, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Can't blame a girl for trying." She brushes imaginary dust from her dress. "Though I must say, that blush looks quite fetching on you, Captain."

Shiro turns away, but her pale skin betrays her, the pink tinge spreading down her neck. Friend clucks disapprovingly at Sabine, puffing up her feathers in a protective display.

"Oh hush," Sabine tells the chicken. "Your captain's virtue remains intact." She leans against the railing, the playful glint still in her eyes. "For now."

***

The port appears on the horizon, a collection of metal structures rising from the waters. Shiro focuses on navigating the approach, grateful for the distraction from Sabine's lingering gaze.

As they dock, the metal gangway clangs into place. Sabine gathers her few belongings, pausing beside Shiro at the helm.

"You know," she says, "most people who reject me don't do it quite so... politely." She adjusts her dress, drawing attention to the curves beneath. "Makes a girl wonder what kind of offers you're holding out for."

Friend pecks at Sabine's shoes one last time, perhaps saying goodbye in her own way.

Sabine's laugh carries back across the deck as she descends to the port. "Keep that blush, Captain. It suits you better than ice."