A visit with an old friend...
"Goldie, you scandalous thing, you," Myra drawled as she hugged the smaller woman. "Trousers?"
"I like them," Goldie grinned at her. "And the suspenders play merry hell with my personal customers, too." Oh, Myra could see that; the thin belts stretched across Goldie's ample bosom, garnering attention without a doubt.
"La. I take it you've a very busy social schedule, then?"
"Never too busy for you, Duchess," Goldie assured her. "And what's this I hear of your being considered as the heir to Tyrconnell? Will I be calling you princess next time I see you?"
"Not if I can help it," Myra replied with a sigh. "Uncle Colm is finally discussing annulling his marriage to Deidre."
"It only took him three hundred years, but good," Goldie said, pulling out her cigar case and choosing a slim cheroot. "Light?" In a blink, a flame appeared stationary in front of her, and she leaned in to light it. "Thanks."
"My pleasure, just blow the smoke away from me," Myra said, dismissing the flame and gathering her skirts to sit down on the lounge and looking out over the rail. "You do have such wonderful perks to your position, Goldie."
"Yeah, well," the dwarven woman sat down in a chair beside her, taking in the same view. "I earned them, Duchess. Fair and square."
"You did. And I deeply respect that about you."
"And so did you," Goldie added. "You don't just hang about the courts, you earned your title, can't buy it, that's for damn sure."
"Very kind," Myra murmured. "Very kind indeed."
"I always am, to my friends." Goldie paused, blew smoke out over the railing. Myra started at the slightest touch to the back of her hand, and looked to see deep green eyes searching her own. "Moira. What are you running from?"
"I haven't the faintest --"
"You don't lie well, Moira Derryth. You never have. That damn near killed you the last time you were on my boat, and it hasn't changed. Now. What's wrong, and how can I help?"
(It's a possible opening as to why Myra would be on the Double Rose.)
