Scottie and Sky loaded up their airship, crates of Ravilan Wine being stacked neatly on deck. Sky looked around and noticed that there seemed to be fewer canvas bags than she’d packed, “Um, darling, where’s all of my luggage?”
Scottie stopped and cringed for a moment before resuming his job of picking up the crates from the airship dock and gently setting them on the deck, “Ooh, uhhh, well, all of the dynamite is gone, right? That was a few bags, sweetie.”
Sky stood on deck, hands on her hips and tapping her left foot, “Don’t sweetie me. There’s more than a dozen missing here. Where’d they all go?”
Scottie stopped again, taking a deep breath and looking up at Sky, “Alright, look. We had to make room for the wine. So I may have donated a few items to charity.”
Sky tilted her head at him and set her jaw, “Charity? Really?”
Scottie coughed and reddened, “Well, sold to a rather ramshackle little shop specializing in women’s clothing. Considering how little I got, it might as well have been charity…”
Sky eyes went wide, her arms flailing a bit in anger, “How little you got!? For all of my clothes!?”
Scottie stuttered, “I was in a hurry! We need to get the hell out of this town! We’ve helped kick off a war! I’d say we’ve overstayed our welcome.”
“…overstayed our welcome…” Sky muttered as she reached into her side satchel. She then walked around the deck taking inventory of exactly which bags Scottie ‘had’ to get rid of. After factoring out the explosives, she counted three missing clothing bags: winter wear, jungle wear and disguises. Sky knew, as well as Scottie, that the contents were replaceable, yet the Sky found it to be more about the principle of the thing. Thus, the redhead seethed.
Scottie had long since finished loading up the airship with their new cargo and taken the helm. Since he did not see Sky he assumed she was down below pouting for her long lost items. He sifted through maps to ensure he had accurately plotted their course but something kept nagging at him. He really did feel bad for having to get rid of his wife’s things.
Once the airship had made good headway and Scottie still had seen no sign of Sky, he locked the wheel into place to go check on her with a grand apology in mind.
Scottie was immediately puzzled at the sight that met him below deck. Every article of his clothing that he had packed was hanging up as if it had just been through the wash. He carefully pushed damp pants and shirts out of his way as he walked slowly forward, “Honey? What are you up to? I know you hate doing the…”
His eyes went wide. Scottie was rendered speechless at what he saw. His best shirts he had packed in his one bag were all hung together with his angry and yet strangely satisfied looking wife standing in front of them, her arms folded.
Eventually Scottie found his tongue, but still stammered out, “Were…were those my white shirts?”
Sky bared her teeth and gave a wide grin, waving her hand dramatically, “Of course, dear. Don’t you think they are so much better this way? I used my own cinderberry dye. I think they’re lovely.”
Before he could say a great many things he would perhaps later regret, Scottie reached up and forcibly yanked down a line of black shirts and pants that were hanging nearby. He growled through clenched teeth, “Purple…you dyed them purple…”