[Historical ‘verse, any era or fandom that suits.]
At the docks, where no good woman ought to be …
“ … Gone?” Thera’s voice raised on the word a little more than necessary. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
Well, he meant gone, of course - the Harbour Master dithered a bit over the question, and how to deliver the obvious answer without incurring further wrath from the woman in front of him. “Change in the weather’s predicted, ma'am. Captain Arnassus decided to set sail at an earlier time.”
“Captain Arnassus,” Thera pointed out with narrowed eyes, “has also decided to hop off with my money!”
The man stared at her, muttering a quick, perfunctory apology. “I can provide you with means to lodge a complaint if you wish, ma'am. But as for the immediate matter of your passage, I’m sorry …”
“No -” She closed her eyes and exhaled, hand half-raised. “I understand.” Ship captains told him when they were departing rather than the reverse, and her being left on the dock with her packed bags and a now-useless paper ticket wasn’t any of his doing.
She turned to look around at the bustling port, hissing out another sigh and resisting the urge to kick the nearest post, box or bag of grain. “Thank you, sir, I’ll put in that complaint shortly. Right now though, I have other things to arrange.”
