What you trust and distrust is your choice. But I rarely make promises; those that I do make, I intend to keep.

[ He is different in this world and he knows it, but very few others do. He would have done nothing once, would have let her freeze in the cold. He would not have this ship, these dogs, anything but far more power and a realm outside of the waking world. But this is not his world, just as it is not hers.

The smaller of the two dogs whines, unhappy about the presence of the stranger. The larger, though they're of the same breed, growls; the Outsider soothes her with a whispered word, though she still looks at the newcomer with clear distrust. This close, he can feel magic: her own and something other, something older, from the mark on her hand. ]

This weather has killed people, [ he says, but it's an agreement. When she is on board, he Pulls the gangplank back up. It is left within reach; she is free to go whenever she wishes. He simply doesn't want others joining them uninvited. ]

There are stores of tea and such in the galley, should you wish some. I am afraid you will have to make it yourself; I am rather unskilled in it.

[ Mostly because he doesn't eat or drink. ]