He knew some parts of him proved he didn’t lie about his time at sea, but there were other unavoidable ones that always drew unwanted curiosity when stopping for the night in random northern ports. His unlucky red hair, the narrowness of his shoulders, the shape of his brow, the indisputable lack of even a shadow on his jaw that he often worried betrayed his claim to manhood. He’d learned long ago that avoiding eyes was the simplest way to avoid those words he hated so much, but couldn’t blame in their curiosity. You sure you’re a sailor? Somethin’ about you looks more like a lass.
