Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ozzrick liked to say he ran a flexible business. It sounded varied, experienced, rounded—in truth, he took whatever was before him, for the most part, and as it happened, one of the things Yaelians apparently imported in some portion now was medicine. Or, medicinal ingredients and cargo. He rarely pressed for specifics, and for some clientele, that was his selling point. In this case, he was fairly certain the facility in question was running a legitimate business.

That did not stop customs from being incredibly suspicious of the foreign herbs.

“I’ve told you,” he added with just a touch more volume than the five times he felt he’d said it already, “that crate is the same as the next. It was ordered by your capitol’s clinic, and I don’t know if the staff will appreciate the contents being exposed to the sea air like this…”

Oz would have liked to have insisted that if the patrolmen damaged his goods, the costs would be on them, but even he didn’t think he could convince him he had that much sway. As a foreigner, it was probably why his goods were already under such frequent, scrupulous inspection.

Unbeknownst to him, some ways down the dock, a fisherman blinked, squinting up at the city goer who had made his way somehow to the shore front. He pointed towards the bow of one of the moored vessels. “Do ya read? Most of ‘em have the name wrote. But…” The man shrugged. “Never learned me letters, m’self. Never ‘eard of it…”

Ozzrick was still where he was, watching as the customs inspector began digging through the ninth crate of his goods. He exhaled a withering sigh. There was nothing to be done about it without causing too much of a stir, and at least in this case, for once he had nothing to hide. If anything, it was a good time to be held up. Just frustrating while it lasted for the delay it caused.

His eyes wandered the docks as braced a foot on the pylon behind him, attention trailing over the Yaeli. As always, he attracted a number of stares, and when he was paying attention himself, it meant catching stray silver eyes in the act and watching as they darted away, pointedly redirecting to something else as though that would somehow make it less conspicuous at that point. He was used to a certain amount of it as a gypsy. Particularly the further they made it from Tale, the more there might be some talk—but at least then he was part of a unit, and it had never been in quite this fashion. Other Tendajians may not have all been equally fond of travelers, but never could he remember being met with open hostility other than in times of war or when dealing with the alkidike, and the peoples of other nation states were not intimidated by he or his troupe.

The Yaelians, on the other hand, seemed often genuinely spooked.

Amidst the cast of more serious faces, stolen glances and whispers of those that made their way past, a roudier pair of young boys dashing along at a rate that might have given their parents nightmares of drowning drew his attention. Ozzrick snorted, the corner of his lip edging up with amusement. At least some of their kind were as rambunctious as the youth he was familiar with, and not so openly wary.

Speaking of the more bold of Yaelians…

Ozzrick’s eyebrows rose, surprised more than anything else to spy none other than a now-familiar young doctor making his way down the dock. Once he was positive he wasn’t mistaken, Ozzrick chuckled, lifted two fingers to perch between his lips, and blew, letting out a shrill whistle, designed to be heard over a camp of gypsies to attract attention—among other things.

Oh, good—Tacrith seemed to have noticed him at least.

Ozzrick gave a bit of a grin at the man’s wave before he began to approach. Being that his help wasn’t apparently needed with any of the inspecting, there was little for him to do but attempt to eavesdrop. Tacrith had interest in his ship? What were the odds? But then, he supposed, being that it was medically related in this instance it wasn’t much of a shock after all. He snorted, arms folding loosely over his chest as he watched with curiosity to see whether the doctor’s ‘official paperwork’ would get him any further than his own boasting-

The guard was coming this way.

He blinked.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Young as he looked, Ozzrick got the sense the Yaelian healer was of decent prestige already, certainly if he was ‘bold’ enough to work on foreigners, and it stood to reason that an established local with connections to their healing facility would have more sway than a dangerous outsider regardless. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a touch impressed in advance as he watched the guard speak with, argue-discuss, and then lead the inspector over to see the paperwork Tacrith provided.

He snatched it up without a word, pursed his lips at whatever was written, and then groused. “You, and you only,” the inspector grunted at Tacrith, “may accompany this…‘captain’ to identify whichever goods are meant for the hospital and none other. Bring them forward to us after and we may speed the release of those.”

Ozzrick stared for a moment. Truly? As easily as at that was it, they were letting him on board?

He couldn’t help but feel a touch impressed, and huffed when it apparently wasn’t even necessary to ask his permission whether or not this ‘strange’ Yaeli man was allowed on his vessel. Not that Ozzrick would have denied it, but it might have seemed like common courtesy—if the inspector had shown any signs of giving him that thus far, which he hadn’t. Shaking his head, he decided to take what amusement he could instead from the doctor’s bewildered look at having to go on board.

Yes, you.

His expression was still amused when Tacrith beckoned him over himself, and Oz hummed before approaching, and hoisting himself on deck. “What a pleasant and unanticipated surprise,” he greeted, ignoring Tacrith’s dive into business and grinning. “What has you running errand boy duties? I wouldn’t have expected to see you this close to the salt of the sea. I’ll admit, though, you made more progress with customs in two minutes than I have in the last three hours. That’s some talent and I should probably thank you.”

“Oh, you can relax,” Oz said lightly, the corner of his lip edging up with amusement as Tacrith eyed the water in evident displeasure. “We’re docked and lashed in, she won’t be going anywhere. You’ve nothing to be concerned about safely at shore unless you can’t swim and let yourself tumble off.” After only the briefest of pauses he added, “But even then I’d fetch you.”

At Tacrith’s surprise, Oz grinned. “I am! It’s been a work in progress as I sailed with other captains at first before I knew enough to be trusted to run an operation myself. But this is my first ship of my own command…”

…please find the container of supplies now.

Ozzrick tisked, shaking his head. “All business, mm? Do you believe in fate?” he asked as he lead the way down into the store hull, below deck, and gestured to the crates labeled for the clinic listed in Tacrith’s papers. “It’s these here,” he said. “I think I’ve managed to cross paths with you more often on chance than anyone I know. Perhaps we’re destined to do more business together than we thought.”

“Mm. Suppose I can’t say I’m surprised…”

The doctor had struck him as an especially pragmatic sort. At the cane, he blinked. He had seen him with it before, but hadn’t been aware of how much the man brought it about and apparently needed it to some extent. Ozzrick found himself wondering what had lead to that in a young man—injury, perhaps, or illness? It didn’t quite seem his business, though, to pry.

“Here…” As Tacrith knealt to fiddle, Oz moved in beside him, helping him open and shift the crates for easier access. “I couldn’t identify everything in it myself,” he said, “but I’m not as familiar with such things as I’m sure you are. I don’t ask too many questions. You’re welcome to rifle through as much as you need to satisfy yourself, since it’s your people making payment…but if it is all there, let me know, and I can help you bring it up deck for inspection and delivery.”

At the request, Ozzrick nodded, climbing halfway up the ladder out to holler for the nearest of his crew still aboard. Most were out ‘on the town’ already being that they’d been docked for some time and would not be leaving port any time in the next several days. With them currently under inspection, it didn’t require all hands on deck. Still, he hadn’t been about to be left the only safeguard to their ship and cargo.

Between his and the crewmate’s effort, it was easy enough to re-close, hoist, and get the goods up and out where customs could have their glance, though Oz spared a peek down the hatch as soon as he’d made it above deck.

“Will your leg manage the way back up well enough?” he asked. “I can spare you a hand.” At a nod of his head, the deck hand took the weight of the crate they’d been carrying to finish its journey to the dock, while Oz lingered. It didn’t seem quite right to dart about without offering.