Lang laughed. "Well, I hope it doesn't come to that either. Undead rats." She said, shaking her head. "You don't have to come." She said to Curr. "No one is forcing you to make it your business."

"Not every murderer has feckin' powers or is usin' magic. Sometimes they're just killin' folk, like you said," Curr said reasonably. "I'm not a coward or anything," he said, defensive now. "Not me. I just don't want you two gettin' hurt when there's no reason for it. I could give a damn about the people in this city who ain't friends, family, or crew."

"Spider's in this city," Starling pointed out. "Anyways, it's not that big a deal, what? Anyone we're gonner find is already dead."

Lang nodded at Starling. "Unless we find out what they're doing, or who they are, perhaps we can stop there being dead people." She countered, scratching at her dress.

She looked back at Curr. "No one's calling you a coward or anything of the sort. It takes courage to say you've had enough." Lang told him, not quite looking at him, hoping to stop the sidling.

Maybe she shouldn't be was on the tip of his tongue, but he decided just in time to bite the words back and instead just gave a shrug, the kind of completely uncaring, teenage shrug that suggested he had spent some time practicing how to get it just right.

"It's not that, it's just- Augh!" he threw his hands up in the air.

"Don't either of you ever get tired? Just want a few months of feckin' peace, where we're not the gottverdammt soldiers of the whole world solvin' everyone else's problems? Where for once we don't get yanked into some big mystery we have to solve that ends up with one of us half or all dead?! Somebody gets kidnapped or beaten to a bloody pulp or fucking, fucking possessed and it seems like the common thought here is that we go trompin' on in to every mystery what finds us! And these are real people, dead real people and you both act like you're feckin' characters in a bard's song and everything's just lyrics and melody and I... "

Curr left the word stretched out for a long pause, and then turned and went stalking off himself into the darkness.

Starling let his hands drop to his side. "Dammit, Curr, you always do this . . . " He dropped a hand on the boy's shoulder before he could sidle further. "Look, you want to turn back to the inn, we'll do that, but don't go off alone, what?"

"Ja, why don't we rest on it, and discuss it in the morning? We're still tired from being at sea." Lang tried, a bit annoyed that Starling was better at appeasing Curr than she was. "We'll get rooms, and think on it."

Curr stopped in his tracks at Starling's hand on his shoulder, not quite relaxing.

He felt sort of longingly that he really would like to just run off now. But then again, he had a nasty way of getting kidnapped every time he ran off. And when he'd had a fight with Elaine, -she'd- gotten kidnapped when he ran off. So...

Starling had a point.

"Fine, we can go back to the inn. Maybe I'm just tired from everything. I don't need a room, though. I feel like stayin' in the trees tonight either way. Maybe I just need sleep."