"Silver," he corrects lightly. "Or John. I'm hardly worthy of a 'Mr,' name, not when I'm currently near an intrepid young purveyor of art." It's hard to tell if he's joking or not as the carriage rocks them both, gently swaying to their destination. silver dislikes carriages, he decides. an awful lot. The sway of the sea is better.

...To think he actually prefers the ocean now. There's a thought he doesn't want to dwell too much on.

"Can't say there are any galleries in Nassau, but I did know a very talented whore who was gifted when it came to sketching."