Our Blessed Lady of stolen whispers - Part One

Jondrim stands at the top of the past in the crows next, but with his hand gripping the very tip top of the mast and his feet on the rails to lean out just that extra bit as he peers out towards the other ships and examining them. As they start to close the gap he just... lets go. A slow, teetering leaning forward to tumble down off from the next into a neat somersault as he falls before catching a line for the sail to arrest his downward motion just enough to so that he doesn't splate on the deck before he lets go to land nimble on his feet. "They look to be ready to great us... nearly friendly like even."
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