While the Acrobat is sipping on another iced coffee.

The Centenarian apparently has good timing, because she's approaching from another direction at about the same time.

"Everything go well for you ladies?"

"Quite," the Skipper replies with a smile. "Plenty of people with things to say, and only one unlucky fool tried to mug us along the way."

She smirks and gestures with her cup-bearing hand at a pistol hanging from her hip — one she didn't have when they left.

"Always so kind of them to keep our lives interesting. Is the new toy any good?"

The Acrobat shrugs.

"We haven't examined it too closely yet. It's moderately well-made, at least, and the tools of a failed assailant are his loss and our gain."

She reaches over and pulls it out, holding it butt-first to the Centenarian. It's a semi-automatic pistol of warm, gleaming brass, clearly of Infernal make. "No idea where he got it, but it's ours now."

"Hmm. I think our mugger was better off as a burglar. This looks to me like the guns devils make for each other, not for broad sale. Weird mechanisms, that seem like they ought to work even on the Surface, but it's hard to tell how. You know the type? They're good weapons, quick to fire and load, but a Hell and a half to maintain."

She hums and nods. "Probably our best uses for it, then, are either taking it apart to further our own understanding of firearm design, or trying to sell it back to Hell."

She leads the way up the gangway onto the Handbasket.

"Or sell to the Khanate, both the Heart and the Shadow reverse-engineer this kind of thing when they can. But yeah."

"I'll give it a try then. I'm good enough to make sure I don't break it, even if I don't get anywhere. Maybe I'll just make sure I understand it well enough to maintain it and make more cartridges and these curious magazines for it, and then just keep it."

As they step onto the deck, the Figurehead calls out, "Welcome home, loves. All cargo is in place, fuel loaded, and we're ready to depart at your order."

She steps out of the hold and nods at the Centenarian, "And you need quarters. Right this way."

She steps through a hatch that opens as she approaches it, leading the way down a corridor lined with more doors. The nearest two on the left, and one on the right, are open, revealing decent rooms with a bunk, a set of shelves mounted high on the wall, a private head, and a fold-out desk in each. "Take your pick."

"All sorts of skills, eh? Well, as long as you're confident!"

She glances over the rooms briefly. "Nice bunks. I guess I'm not surprised, it does seem your style. I'll take... this one." She sticks her luggage - really more of a footlocker - under the bed, then pops back out.

The other two doors shut on their own as she picks her room. When she emerges, the Figurehead points at a hatch at the end of the hall. "That is our room. The closed hatch to its right at the end of the hall is our darling Acrobat's, for when she needs her own space. Would you like a tour, lunch, or would you rather we get underway immediately?"

"I'm in no hurry, but if you want to cast off I'll help. If not... tour, I guess?"