Bad Influences in Good Places
Being one of the most decorated Generals of the Orcish Horde army had its downsides. One of them was that he couldn't just meander about Stormwind on the Queen's Gambit without some kind of defense.
Like the amulet Mona gave him to turn him into a Draenei, a purple skinned, hulking menace.
Unfortunately, however, it seemed it wasn't a good enough disguise. Maybe it was the resting expression that translated into the same grumpiness and unsavory attitude in the alien guise. His stance, the way he walked, or talked, or even that word had traveled too far and too wide.
He was startled enough to jump in his skin when they materialized feet away from him, and he fumbled with his sword for so long that they had time to cross their arms before he got the right stance.
No, the person who had found him out was his wife's best friend. Figures.
"Oh," Mugara Zungen sighed roughly. "What are you doing here, Sansone?"
"Getting an eyeful of this ship, apparently. What hasn't this hunk of junk been through?" The redhead murmured, looking around, some strands of hair slipping out from the bun piled on top of her head.
"I think that might be a smaller list than what it has been through," he responded, calming down and sheathing his sword again. "Checking on me, are you? What has Mona told you? Is she giving you wild and sweeping accusations about my safety and the danger I'm putting myself in, in retirement?"
The mage shifted in her spot and looked away, arms tightening over her chest. Her gear looked fortified, even for a caster: the Kirin Tor's set of armor from the excursions in Ulduar, or at least its appearance laid over something much more durable.
Mugara's brow came together as he watched her. He expected that she was trying to bother him in lieu of Mona's inability to do so, but she seemed... Distant.
"I'm here for myself. The letter said next week, but once I saw your name I couldn't help myself," she grinned faintly.
"Mona didn't tip you off, eh?" He chuckled, though concern still edged in his tone.
Her grin spread further and she shook her head. "No, not this time. It was me; I remembered her grouching about how you decided to spend your retirement on a ship, and thought maybe it would be nice to get out."
"What about the rugrats?" He wondered, relaxing against the railing.
She breathed in, deep, but he saw the somber trace across her expression. "Mm," she toned, the faraway look in her eyes getting stronger. "They're fine. There's no lack of someone to look after them, and it isn't as if I'll be gone forever. Johnathan just turned 10, you know."
Mugara grinned at the human, looking away. "I bet he's a handful," he murmured.
He felt her hand on his shoulder and breathed out. "You should adopt. Leave this old ragged ship to me and I'll take care of it while you raise a kid."
The not-draenei let out a hearty laugh. "Sure. That'll happen. Speaking of leaving..."
She snorted and took a lean beside him, breathing out as he had, shoulders slumping some with the action. "I want this. In any case, I have a week to decide otherwise, right?"
He shook his head at her. "I mean before the Captain gets back, you should leave. He doesn't care much for unannounced visits. Especially if he isn't expecting you for a week."
"Ask your wife how much I listen to directions," she joked, but stood, listening to him.
"As if I don't already have a laundry list of examples," he snorted back at her. "You two are horrible influences on each other."
"I think you meant fantastic," she corrected him, grinning. "Do you have any other advice for me before I come on officially?"
Mugara's head leaned back as he looked her over. The joking, amused demeanor seemed to fade for a more serious expression, and he had the ghost of a grin on his face, shaking his head lightly.
"When you think it can't get any worse, know that it will," he told her. "If you still want to come on board after that, I'll put in a good word for you."
Not that he really wanted to, he realized, watching her walk off down the dock before disappearing completely. Not long ago, he had known Semmi in his bed, just before Mona had wrangled his attention. But even without that history, the human had still made fast and close friends with the not-dead blood elf. They dragged each other out of alcoholism and depression, having been together through death and more.
The old General had a sense of care for Semmi that was akin to how he felt for his own sister. He wanted to protect her, keep her from falling, from getting hurt.
He knew better, he couldn't save her from this. Even if he wanted to tell Kurel to rescind the offer, he wasn't her father or her bodyguard. He was the husband of her best friend. Though his heart was in the right place, he'd have to sit and watch her stumble.
At least he could help her stand up, from that, though she'd never take his hand.
(Mentions: @kurel-andiel)
