Selene slumped in the wooden chair without a shred of dignity, rubbing her bulging stomach with both hands. Even her burps reeked of seafood.
"God, I've never had such a solid dinner in my life. The cooks at those rip-off restaurants in Gotham should come to Amnesty Bay for some training." She complained, too stuffed to even stand.
Maggie had already started clearing the table. She stacked the empty dishes, ready to carry them into the kitchen.
A thick arm reached over and steadily took the stack from her hands.
"Leave them. Go inside and rest. I'll handle the heavy work." Arthur took the dishes without waiting for an answer and headed into the kitchen.
Soon, running water sounded from the kitchen. Arthur wasn't particularly delicate with the dishes, and the crockery clattered loudly, but he worked fast.
Yang Ming rose from his chair and walked to the far end of the cabin's porch.
Thomas Curry sat on a small folding stool beneath a dim, yellow windproof lantern. Wearing reading glasses, the old man held a long needle fashioned from white bone between his rough fingers as he mended a badly damaged nylon fishing net.
The sea breeze swept past, carrying salty moisture.
Yang Ming leaned against a wooden post and adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"That net's pretty badly torn." Yang Ming looked at the gash, a good half meter long.
"The tide was out a couple of days ago. Arthur took the boat too close in and snagged it on a reef." Thomas pushed his bone needle through the mesh and deftly tied a tight knot. "Patch it up, and it'll last another six months or so. A new net costs a fair bit."
The water stopped running in the kitchen. Arthur pushed open the back door and emerged