Shame. I was hoping one of us would.

[ His tone is still light, as careless as the shrug he sketches where he's settled against the dock, turning back toward the moored row of ships. There's potential there, still, even if neither of them knows the rigging from the anchor. ]

Ah, well. Even if we could abscond with one of these ships, we'd still have no idea where we were going, would we?