"Could use some paint," Agreeably, from somewhere — well, under the rail. Vance clambers up its side, props arms out with a puff of breath. A moment longer before he rummages for a smoke. "Gets better further up. See that?"

The wave of a thick pinky high, toward cliffs shrouded in mist. Here and there, a fleeting glimpse of green. Of stone arches. Something a bit prettier than working harbor.