Private/Closed A Long Night in Canalave

[Mr.RMA]

OOC: This here RP involves the following individuals along with myself. If you're not on the list, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading along
@Dwayna DragonFire
@Ry_Burst
@Dark Soul
@Rex

BIC:
Despite living in a world inhabited by deadly, surreal creatures with inexplicable and, frankly, abominable powers that an outsider would deem a violation of nature itself, to most of the people of Sinnoh everything seemed like business as usual. Adolescents, and children yet to even be designated as such, were roaming the land with elemental beasts at their command. The quaint port town of Canalave used to be a common stop on their road to the regional League Championship, but… as of late, that was no longer the case. The gym leader, Byron, had left some months prior, on a sort of spiritual journey of self-actualization. This mainly equated to him moving to an old cabin in Iron Island and digging… Not for anything in particular, mind you, he simply enjoyed the process. Any fossils he dug up or trainers he encountered were simply bonuses to his day.

Unfortunately, this left the city without its primary tourist attraction. Few people were interested in the logistics industry, leaving the cargo freighters without any gawkers. The library, while crammed with books of Pokémon mythology, was of interest mainly to a particularly niche demographic who still enjoyed reading through old books instead of just perusing through one of the many high-tech devices available for their information. Oh, a few passed through every now and then, but not anywhere near to the extent of the trainers from before. There was reason to believe that the town would fall into complete obscurity, and the small population of Canalave desperately wished for something to rejuvenate the port town’s notability. It’s a stock phrase, “be careful what you wish for,” but there’s a reason it’s so often said, and the unsuspecting citizens of the Cargo Port were about to learn firsthand.

It started with a young boy, tossing and turning in his sleep, yet he never fully awoke. His parents couldn’t rouse him from this state, and by the time a physician came about to diagnose the child, a man several doors down had fallen victim to the same affliction. There didn’t appear to be any simple reasoning for it, these people seemed to simply… remain in a state of rapid eye movement, and the resulting dreams appeared to be anything but pleasant. Soon a third and fourth victim became known, then a fifth… and steadily as the days passed the number grew. Those who were fortunate enough to awaken every following morning immediately feared this to be the return of a menace they’d all thought to be gone forever. All those years ago, the nightmare-inducing Pokémon, Darkrai, had plagued a single child, and that family had moved sometime after the ordeal had been resolved, the memories of the experience having been too unsettling for them all. After its next victim managed to wake themselves up on their own accord, everyone assumed that nightmare had come to an end, and yet, here it was, happening again, and again…

The harbor was eerily quiet these days, the light splash of the waves splashing against stone elevations of the town, accompanied by the distant sounds of Starly flocks in the sky. Watching them pass overhead was a man who looked dreadfully out of place as he fruitlessly held a fishing rod over the deep blue coast, his long blonde hair poking slightly out of his otherwise hooded face. It had only been a day since he first arrived, but he was already starting to notice things, strange things indeed. Those flocks of bird Pokémon would always seem to fly a little faster whenever they passed by; the water Pokémon never seemed to bite no matter how long he waited… they never seemed to show up at all for that matter, not even to refuse his bait or taunt his efforts. As he kept at his hopeless endeavor, he seemed to be looking further down than where his line ended. Indeed, despite his supposed attempts at fishing, his real concern was the visage of his contact coming from the first screen of the watch-like device on his wrist, the second screen showing off his own scraggly, bearded features with greater detail. It was clear from the expression on his face that he was at least a little bit concerned about the situation he’d been placed in.

“I don’t know where they went, none of the folks who stayed behind knew either, I couldn’t tell you, I wasn’t gonna just follow them on a whim,” he said. The person on the other end of the call, a woman with short, slick black hair and wraparound sunglasses of a similar shade, merely shook her head disappointedly at that.

“This was supposed to be a simple open-shut mission, Crank. You’re in a small town full of forgotten bumpkins who’re probably just making a scene to draw attention to themselves. I’d think even you wouldn’t so easily buy into whatever they’re trying to sell.”

“It’s not like I believe the rumors spreading around, this isn’t that thing’s M.O. at all. Still, something could really be amiss here. There was another victim just last night, I heard that poor bastard’s family from several blocks away, if this is an act, they ought’a start doing movies at Pokestar with it,” he said, his contact merely sighing, well-aware she wasn’t just going to convince him it really was such a simple case.

“Have you at least told anyone about this, any of the local cops maybe, or are you too afraid of blowing that ‘brilliant’ cover of yours? What are you even supposed to be anyway? You don’t look a thing like the usual Sinnoh native y’know.”

“I’m trying the whole ‘stranded tourist’ act, alright? Figure it might be more convincing until I’m ready to strike,” he said, muttering ‘it’s not like you cheapos gave me much in line of resources anyway’ under his breath. “Besides, I’ve got the real master of disguise on the look-out at all times, if something’s amiss and I can’t spot it, Olivier will, easily.”

“Yeah, well, it’s all the more critical he doesn’t get exposed. You think you’re out of place, they don’t exactly have any of his kind roaming around those parts, not any on record at least… But, whatever, if you wanna waste your time with this mission, be my guest, just means you’re not gonna be seeing any sorta promotion in your near-future, better not expect any lucrative jobs to be coming your way,” she replied quite sternly, arms crossed.

“Won’t need ‘em, this is plenty lucrative, you just don’t wanna believe it,” he retorted with a light smirk.

“Yeah, well, shame me for being a non-believer in this all you want, it’s your head, Crank, just try not to waste too much more time, you’ve got plenty more opportunities to make an ass of yourself.”

“Roger that, Tiller. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got work to do,” Crank said as he already turned his attention back to his fruitless fishing endeavor.

“Over and out… you kook…” And with that the transmission was terminated. Cautiously, the shabbily dressed officer took a glance to the side at the one humanoid figure nearby, leaning against the wall of the long-abandoned, decayed inn, proving to be a rather convincing sailor, all things considered. He’d gotten the white suit, hat and red ascot down perfectly, though of course there remained that streak of red hair that went down his head, continuing down to mark some of his skin on the back of his neck as well. Fortunately, it was the sort of mark you’d have to look for to really pay much mind to, and of course, you’d have to be suspicious enough of the otherwise entirely convincing human being standing before you.

Still, Crank of all people knew how observant his fellow humans could be when they bothered to try. Hopefully these poor civilians would stay distracted enough by their own problems. Even with his own particular sleeping methods, so long as he wasn’t sure who, or what, was the cause of these ceaseless nightmares, he didn’t need to gain the sort of attention that would have the culprit place him on their sleep-list.

 

[Dark Soul]

The people of Sinnoh frowned upon having one’s PokéMon out at all times, as the people of Hoenn did. Cal’s most trusted partner, however, was skittish about spending any time at all within its ball instead of staying with its trainer. So, as compromise, Cal had found the quietest and most well-hidden corner of the Canalave library, so they could pour through tome after dusty tome as a seven-foot mass of gold-trimmed darkness hunkered over them, one glowing red eye fixated on Cal’s position.


Cal yawned loudly and stretched their arms out, then gave the Dusknoir’s belly a firm pat. What their hand struck didn’t feel like skin, or fur, but something akin to ice cold satin. “Think it’s about time to call it a day, pal.” Cal mumbled. “Think I’ll just leave these piles here. Can’t imagine they won’t still be here when I return.” They looked at the evidence of their research of the day; Two piles of books for the two mysteries that held their current interest- The topic they came here to research originally, the ancient structures of Hoenn, and anything they could find on the creature ‘Darkrai’ and the nightmares it was said to be causing.


Few PokeMon were as infamous as Darkrai was in Sinnohan mythology, perpetually portrayed as a malevolent spirit whose influence was inseperably linked to nightly terrors plaguing the inhabitants. People often thought of Ghost- and Dark-types this way, however, and Cal had found the opposite to be true. They knew Ghost-types could be just as playful, inquisitive and benevolent as any other wild PokéMon. People side-eyed Moroi whenever it was brought into battle, too, for its supposed habit of stuffing the innocent down its gullet to take them to the afterlife.


All Moroi ever ate was heaps and heaps of Poffins.


Cal rubbed their tired eyes and stood up from the desk, packing their torch and various notebooks and pens into their bag. Moroi looked on inquisitively and let out a low, guttural rumble. “Yeah, yeah, don’t grumble. I promise I’ll let you out once we’re back in the hotel room.” Cal said. “You can trust me, bud.” They clicked their ball into the open position and a startlingly bright red light transferred Moroi into its temporary resting place.


As Cal emerged from the maze of ceiling-high bookcases, they noticed the light streaming in from the first window they came across. Damn. Morning already? They consulted their watch, which proved that sunrise had, in fact, taken place. Ah, well. Sleep first. Then food…


As the front doors of the library creaked open, Cal was greeted with the flame-coloured rays of dawn’s light warming their skin, and a warm, salty sea breeze blowing in their face. Their heart thumped a little faster in that moment. It felt like home. It took them back to early mornings spent fishing in the Slateport harbour. Cal missed Hoenn sometimes, even after two years traversing Sinnoh. They took a few more moments, eyes closed, to enjoy the breeze, before heading on their way to a well-deserved rest.

 

[Rex]

A dark room in the Pokemon Center's dorms, the first weak rays of sunlight peaking in through cracked curtains. A man, mid thirties, disheveled, wearing a gray suit and white coat. The beginnings of bags under his eyes, a week's worth of stubble on his face. He was sitting at his desk, leaning back in the chair, knee pressed against the wood to keep him from falling forward. On the desk beside his knee, a half empty cup of coffee. Beside that, an ash tray, several cigarette buds resting within it, one or two still smoking. Another cigarette between his lips, off to the side. It wasn't lit yet, the lighter still resting in the man's white coat.

Out of his other pocket, the man fished out a small tape recorder. He brought it up to his mouth, the side opposite the cigarette, and hit the record button.

"Another patient tonight, that makes twelve," the man said, "Symptoms are consistent with all the others. Patient was deemed stable at S-C-S six equals E-one, V-three, M-two at five thirty-five." He hit stop, and set the recorder on his desk. The man sighed, this routine was getting old. He dug his lighter out of his pocket, finally lighting the cigarette that had been waiting, expectantly, for his attention. He returned the small silver lighter to his pocket. Back in Castelia, his colleagues would joke about his addiction to these 'cancersticks,' but they helped him focus. The fact that he needed them to focus was a sign of his nicotine addiction was not lost on him. The man picked his tape recorder back up, and hit record again.

"Patient appears comatose, and possibility of severe brain damage can not be ruled out," the man said, then frowned, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "They are restless, and frequently cry out. Symptoms seem consistent with R-B-D, were it not for their failure to awaken. Pathogenesis remains unknown, the majority of patients are not blood relations, ruling out idiopathic causes unless they all happen to have a common ancestor. Perhaps a viral agent causing some kind of neurodegenerative disease-"

The man paused, hit stop on the recording. He rewound, listened to what he'd just said. He paused it again after 'ancestor,' and hit record again, "Symptomatic causes can not be ruled out at this time. Further testing would require moving patients to Jubilife City." Recording stopped again, and the man set the tape recorder back on his desk. He took another drag on his cigarette, then snuffed it out in the ash tray. He picked up his coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. It had gone cold.

 

[Ry_Burst]

A tall man's feet gave a soft crunch as he jogged through the sleepy town, reading a research paper written by Profesor Fennel of the Unova region, regarding Dream Mist. This man, Seth Curtis had came to this town about 5 days ago, to speak with a local librarian, involving a new update on his app to include old history and lore, mainly because of the suspicions and interesting history the entire region seemed to emit. However, after he had arrived the man fell into a deep sleep, and soon became one of the victims, of this crisis.

While a large majority of the citizens blamed the legendary Pokemon Darkrai, including multiple of the librarian's colleagues, Seth believed that it, in reality, was something that made more sense. And soon his curiousity developed into a stubborn obsession, while other peole we're afraid, and often enough, ditching town.

To prevent himself from falling into this deep sleep, Seth had been running on 5 hours of sleep, relying on coffee, and excerise to stay fully awake. There was no possible way he could unravel anything if he became a victim.

Seth stopped outside, a small cafe, where his stomach gave a growl. He shook his head, and continued his jog, and finishing it, outside of the hotel he had been staying at. He climbed the staircase and unlocked his bedroom door. There, he changed into his normal, more proper, styled clothes, and grabbed his wallet. Then he headed towards the cafe, to eat.

To this man, public appearance was everything. He needed to have a proper image, and show some class. This was probably for some deeper psychological reason, involving his upbringing, but he chose to ignore this possibility, despite the likeliness of it, mainly because of him not wanting to dwell nor blame all of his problems on his childhood. The man entered the small cafe, with a commanding presence. He walked up to the counter, where an old man was standing behind the counter, looking wearily tired. He, along with the majority of citizens were probably hadn't got much sleep out of fear. It was natural for paranoia to start, but the astonishing part was the fact, that in the day, they acted like people weren't falling into comas. They continued to live their lives.

Seth sat at the stool and ordered, a cup of coffee, black, and a small bagel. He wasn't as hungry, as of late, but eating wouldn't hurt, and give him some energy. As the man poured the coffee, Seth focused a bit more on the papers, he had placed in front of him, when he sat down, examining more about Dream mist, and feeling the frustration of getting no where.

 

[Dwayna DragonFire]

Careful steps into the ports city of Canalave slowed considerably as the woman attached to them looked about warily, her deep blue eyes uncertain. She had heard about the rumors surrounding the city: people drifting of to sleep and never seeming to wake. Until Charlotte had come here, she had the sense that something was off, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. Now, however... even using what little of her power she had, there was a overwhelming sense of dread and discomfort, as if something was very wrong with the world. Perhaps there was... and with that in mind, the human woman decided that she would need a little bit of help figuring this all out.

Charlotte reached towards her purse and drew out a PokéBall, opening it to a gust of cold air. The typically red light coalesced beside her into a mostly white, humanoid figure that appeared to be wearing a kimono, including a red obi-like belt around its waist. There was light blue detailing on the sleeves and ice crystal horns atop its teardrop head; similarly crystal blue eyes in yellow sclera staring up through what almost seemed like a mask. Upon closer inspection, the figure was lightly floating off of the ground, with no legs to speak of.

Mistress... came the typical greeting directly into the human woman's thoughts, with a bow of the Froslass' head to Charlotte. There wasn't much else other than that from the PokéMon, as the trainer was still learning how her own telepathy worked. The Ice-Ghost type would do her best to communicate with her Mistress, and tilted her head curiously as if to say 'why have you summoned me?'

“Glacia,” greeted the human in kind, curtsying in her gothic-style dress. “Perhaps you can help me... I sense an overwhelming feeling of despair... I was wondering if you had any insight into the matter?”

The Froslass looked thoughtful, before looking back to Charlotte. The human woman got the vague sense that Glacia felt the sense of dread that the human was feeling, but didn't know the source. Of course things couldn't be that easy... Charlotte thought to herself. However, the PokéMon seemed to extend a sleeve towards the dock ominously, and a slightly cold wind seemed to pick up. Charlotte felt ill for some reason, paling slightly at the feeling of a Ghost touching things that shouldn't be touched, and being entirely too aware of it because the human woman could now sense that sort of thing.

“I should look that way, then?” asked Charlotte, and Glacia nodded her response. “Very well. Stay close.” The Froslass faded from view slightly as Charlotte walked around the dock, where keen eyes could probably see the edge of the water ice over slightly before sloshing back to its original form.

 

[Mr.RMA]

(OOC: So, due to being idle for too long, we'll be continuing without Charlespark from here on in)

BIC:

As the morning drew on, the locals started going about their business, those of which who were able to still do so at least. All the people who had disappeared into the woods in the middle of the night were back as if nothing strange had transpired at all, though those who had stayed put naturally gave them a few suspicious looks as they passed each other by. Really though, there was a look of tenseness on every denizen in town who was still conscious, and concerned discussions seemed to continually whisper through the streets.

"We're all just staying here then? Just gonna let it happen? Why don't we make a break for it?"
"No, no... It'll probably just target us quicker if we try and leave. We can't risk angering it like that..."

"Seriously, they have to be going somewhere..."

"Got us some strange visitors these days..."

Crank had been keeping himself alert to as many of these passing conversations that he could hear at once, though it seemed most of these people were as puzzled as he had been. Nonetheless, he pondered over the mention of "strange visitors" in particular for a moment, before shivering as an unexpected chill blew past him. As he started to question the origin of whatever it was he'd just felt, the sailor with the red mark tapped him on the shoulder.

"What's up?" he asked, being directed to look at the sea beneath him, which had an unexpected layer of frost where the tide hit the harbor. It faded off just as suddenly as it appeared, which seemed to infer something had caused it, beyond some natural climate anomaly. His disguised companion pointed in the direction of what appeared to be a young woman, dressed in very... oddly formal attire for a place like this. There wasn't any sort of ball or anything scheduled today... What, was she just doing some sort of Lolita thing? He'd heard of some trainers in the Kalos region taking up a similar style but... this wasn't the attire of the average Sinnoh native... and if Olivier was sensing something peculiar about her, then there must've been more beyond just the stand-out clothing. The simple deduction was that this was one of those visitors mentioned prior, perhaps he could learn a thing or two about why she was here...

"'scuse me, Miss?" he said as he stood to his feet, approaching the woman as she appeared to be pacing the docks for some unknown purpose. "Mind if I have a word with you?"

 

[Dwayna DragonFire]

The feeling of paranoia felt almost suffocating, and part of her wished she hadn't come here at all. But her will was stronger, and a place that appeared to be in so much distress needed any help it could get. Still with her friend following behind her, invisible in all but presence to Charlotte, she paced the dock slightly.

"'scuse me, Miss?" said a gentleman stranger, dressed like he was poor and out of a job. "Mind if I have a word with you?" Charlotte stopped to consider him for a few moments, thinking about whether she should even bother to give him the time of day. She centered her thoughts on him and gave pause. He felt... different, like he didn't belong here. His paranoia wasn't the same as the others; he was more suspicious and wary. He clearly wasn't all he seemed to be... Perhaps this is what Glacia wanted me to find.

"I do mind," she replied honestly and bluntly. "But I suppose you'll bother me until you get what you want. Out with it then." He felt like the sort of person that just didn't leave well enough alone.

 

[Dark Soul]

As soon as Cal walked into their hotel room they pressed the button on their PokeBall to release the restless Dusknoir from containment. The grey-black apparition barely fit in the confines of the one-bed, one-desk hotel room, but it seemed content to float up to the slanted ceiling and hover there. "There you go, bud." Cal said, before yawning. They could barely manage to keep their eyes open.

Cal pulled shut the curtain of the room's only window to keep out the vibrant light of dawn, bathing the room in a darkness in which Moroi's sole red eye stood out like a nightlight. "Wake me up if anything interesting happens." Cal told the Dusknoir, who let out only a low rumble in reply, as they dropped into the bed, not even bothering to take off their shoes. It occurred to Cal that they should feel more worried about going to sleep in this town. And yet, they didn't, knowing that if there was going to be a war for their psyche in the night, they'd have a strong ally on their side.

Cal drifted off within minutes, dreaming of lapping waves and sunlit beaches.

 

[Rex]

When the man departed his room some minutes later, he had changed into his day clothes: yellow jacket, black shirt, gray pants, sunglasses handing from his coat's collar. The sun was steadily rising in the sky, and the man suspected he'd need the shades soon. He needed coffee, and some good coffee at that, not the kind they served at the cafeteria here. Working at night and in the early mornings had started to take their toll on the man, his body needed sleep, but his brain was too wired. A little caffeine would help his body perk up in the short term and hopefully help his mind crash later on.

He put on his sunglasses as he exited the Pokemon Center, more to hide the growing bags under his eyes than to protect them from the still weak early morning sun. He then let his hand fall to his belt, upon which three Pokeballs were clipped. Two o his own, and one he'd borrowed, the only familiar things in this strange city in a far off region. The locals treated him well enough, he was a doctor after all. But they were getting frustrated with his inability to do anything to help them. He understood, and was frustrated himself, but there was so very little he could do, so much he still didn't understand.

The man paused on his walk towards the cafe. He'd just walked past a pair of people, but hadn't really noticed them until he'd taken a second to disengage from his thoughts. They appeared to be outsiders, like himself. One was a woman, who appeared about half his age, dressed in a ballgown of all things, looking like she'd stepped right out of some fantasy novel set centuries in the past. The other a man, older than the woman, younger but younger than the doctor himself. He looked shady, a hoodie and baggy sweatpants. Something about him seemed incredibly off, and the doctor wondered if the woman might be in some kind of danger.

His hand drifted to the Pokeball containing the Pokemon he'd borrowed. He didn't intend to jump to any conclusions. Perhaps it was just because he was tired. He certainly didn't want to imply this woman couldn't take care of herself, hell she was probably a better trainer than he was. Something just told him not to leave these two alone together. The doctor had learned to follow his gut feelings to their logical conclusions, even if they didn't always turn out to be true. So he waited, and watched, eyes obscured behind his shades.

 

[Mr.RMA]

"To the point, huh? Good, then I hopefully won't be taking much more of your time," Crank said as he shoved his hands in his pockets, just to accentuate the disheveled look. "There's been word spreading around town, about ah... peculiar folks dropping by these days. I mean, the place ain't exactly a hotspot anymore, so I can see why they'd be suspicious. I've only been here for a short while, but this is the first I've seen your face around here, and you don't exactly look like a local either. So, I was hoping maybe you'd be willing to tell me why you're wandering about in a place like this. Surely you've got some kinda reason?" He knew he was lucky that she'd even entertain hearing him out at all, so he wasn't expecting a complete answer, but surely if she had anything to hide, there would be a chance to catch a glimpse of it from however she chose to respond. That was the logic the undercover agent was going with at least.

Crank's focus was pretty much entirely on the young woman he was speaking to, so he wasn't aware of the gentleman in the yellow jacket approaching. Ever-attentive by contrast, Olivier quickly stepped between the newcomer and the two humans conversing. Glaring suspiciously at the man, his eyes briefly flashing a particularly wild, bestial sort of look to them, it was a minor giveaway, but anyone savvy to his kind's ways wouldn't need much more to see through the human facade.

Hidden from sight, in some unknown part of town, something was scanning the quaint port, detecting something rather unexpected. An extra soul slumbering at this time of day? How curious... how convenient... Its presence suddenly shifted to Cal's room, formless, shapeless, seemingly undaunted by the cycloptic ghost type keeping vigil as it seemed to edge near the sleeping figure in the bed. If Cal was dreaming vividly at this moment, their dreams were likely starting to take a particularly nightmarish turn... and perhaps it would even feel like they were suddenly contained, trapped, aware of their unconsciousness, but unable to break away from it. But then, the presence suddenly stopped. For whatever reason, it didn't seem to want to afflict this individual. It released its grip on its would-be victim, hastily fleeing from the room, back to wherever it had come from. It seemed it would need to wait for a more... preferable target.

 

[Dwayna DragonFire]

Charlotte narrowed her eyes suspiciously at this gentleman, not sure exactly what to make of him. He was keen on the information gathering technique, trying to manipulate her through intimidation, it seemed. The goosebumps spreading up her legs reminded her that this was what Glacia had been trying to warn her about. Was it a warning? She wasn't sure... but with the way he was acting towards her, it was almost as if he thought Charlotte was doing something wrong by just being here. Perhaps a half-truth would suffice...

"I came to look around," she answered, just as curtly as before and reasoning that he hadn't been polite, either. "I'd heard some rumors about strange things happening in the area. I tend to be interested in that sort of thing. Is that a crime?" Those words felt very deliberate in some sense. Why did I ask something like that? A flicker of confusion crossed her face, but she didn't have long to dwell on it. Charlotte had the distinct feeling that they were being watched, and perhaps they were. Whether it was by the source of the mysterious gloom or someone else, she couldn't say.

Speaking of the mysterious gloom, however, it seemed all the more palpable. The man had just implied that this place wasn't a hotspot anymore, which also implied that the people around here were possibly on edge. Perhaps that would explain why the paranoia vibes were off the charts... and why a strange man in a hoodie was keen on asking her questions.

 

[Rex]

Another man, a wild look in his eyes, stepped between the doctor and the woman. A burly looking sort, possibly a sailor, probably dangerous. The other man and the woman were talking about something, he wanted to know what she was doing here, in Canalave. She was non-committal, 'came to look around.' Was he hostile to her being here specifically, or any outsider in general? Was he hostile at all? The doctor's gut said yes, and the sailor, muscle for the other man perhaps, seemed to back that idea up.

How did he proceed? She was effectively surrounded by the two other men. He was tired, not firing on all cylinders, it was difficult to come up with an idea. The important thing was not to give the men the idea that he was on to them. Get her attention, give her a way out. At the very least, he needed her to notice the other man. He moved to the side, so he could see the woman past the sailor.

"Miss? Don't I know you from somewhere?" he called. It wasn't his greatest idea, but all he needed was for her to look his way, and she'd see the sailor,