group
Below deck, while Svierk busies Finn with conversation and sunrises, Gidror awakes with a shout, his head dripping wet as Mazirax stands above him with an empty–also dripping–water bucket. Or… well, there's no guarantee that it is actually water, but Gidror assumes that Mazirax has more dignity than that. Esteban on the other hand… Well, there's a reason the tabaxi and the half-orc no longer share any sort of quarters. Mazirax huffs, his breath warming the air, and he approaches his wardrobe to choose his attire for the day. It's all the exact same shirt in just slightly varying shades of brown with wide trousers to accommodate his massive and scaled thighs. He accessorizes with an ungodly amount of gold, polished to shine in any light, no matter how small.
Gidror gets up with a grumble and orkish swears. His hammock is as damp as his sopping mohawk. His grimey shirt gains the same condition as Gidror pulls it over his head. His routine is done much faster than Mazirax's, the half-orc having no need for accessories or face washing. If his god made him this way, Gidror certainly isn't about to disrespect them by altering it. Esteban would blatantly disagree, but he's too busy applying various plundered conditioners and whisker oil to bother lecturing his half-orc crewmate. Billi only takes a few minutes to gather their instrument and change into more adequate day clothes. Ivanca disappears and reappears, ready for the day, in only a few seconds. Nobody knows how she does it, nobody cares all too much to ask.
"Mmm!" Esteban hums as he stretches his arms high above his head. He smacks his tongue a few times, chasing away the taste of sleep. He could go for some raspberry muffins right about now. Perhaps he'll ask Mazirax to make some for the crew tomorrow morning. "Ready for another lovely day, Billi?"
The satyr scowls and pushes open the ajar cabin door. "It looks like sunshine decided to take a morning walk." Of course, there's nobody the bard could be referring to other than the new warlock. Almost as soon as they finish grumbling their sentence, footsteps sound and the warlock descends the staircase. "Manage to sleep well?" Billi asks, but their words are clearly not interested in conversing.
"I hope you didn't mind the floor much. We haven't swept in a little while, but I'm sure you won't catch any deadly diseases." Esteban, quite the opposite of Billi, is willing to converse all morning with the newcomer.