Gareth sat down in the carriage and listened to the story as he was jostled lightly by the movement of the vehicle. Coach was definitely not his favorite means of transport, as it could sometimes make him feel sick. It had been mild on the way here, but it was worse now and he could not entirely suppress a grimace.

"How did you come to know that story about Caverhill? And how do you know it's real?" he asked. "It could just have been a nonsense story to make a worthless map seem valuable."

She climbed into the carriage as well and sat. Her eyes were studious of both men, one for the story and the other for his questioning nature. Claire tilted her head and said, "Why would it not be real if there are clues? Someone would have had to have taken a lot of time just to set up a hoax if that was the case." She twirled her pointer finger in the air for a moment before her hand dropped into her lap. She gave a shrug then.

"I know the story because it was passed along with the map." Quentin says simply. "When you buy a treasure map, you tend to remember the story that sold you on it." He says with a chuckle. "As for how I know if its real, I do not. But I had business to conduct in Whitby when the map made itself available to me and I decided that the small pittance being asked for it was worth the risk that it was false. Still, two clues in does suggest there is some veracity to the claims. It was when I found the first clue on my own that I decided to hire some help to look for more."

Gareth shrugged at Claire, and then at Quentin. "I just meant that there's a lot of fake things sold in Whitby for high prizes - fake jet, fake relics.. and fake treasure maps no doubt. Anyone can tell a nonsense story to make it seem worth more than it is." The fact that a pittance had been asked for something that was supposed to lead to great treasure, only made it more suspicious. He shrugged again. "But I suppose you're right. They wouldn't go to the length of providing a solution to the first clue."

He decided to stop talking. It made him feel worse. And he didn't want to throw up over his new employer, or over a lady. That would be unchivalrous.

Claire pursed her lips. Maybe Gareth was correct in assuming the treasure was fake, or maybe he wasn't and she was reading the situation wrong. She sighed then and tried to relax into the seat for the time being. She smoothed her hands over her legs and looked down at her hands. "Whether it is real or not, I supposed we're going to find out soon enough," she said, glancing up and over to Gareth, then Quentin. She gave pause as she peered at the bigger man for a moment longer than necessary. Lord, he was easy on the eyes, she thought and then averted her gaze toward the window so she wouldn't sit there staring like some sort of ninny. Hopefully, the reporter had missed the way she appreciated Quentin's looks. It would be a stupid thing for him to focus on anyway, she thought. Gah, why was she even thinking about it?

"You are right it is entirely possible it's all fake." Quentin says with a light chuckle. "Could be an elaborate joke even now. But I wouldn't fret too much Mister Scott you will be compensated for your time regardless of the ultimate result. The pay is more than fair I am sure you will find." He would give Scott the same rate he had offered Longbottom which was nothing to sneeze at in this day and age. "Speaking of, are you also looking for compensation Claire or are you content simply with the adventure?" He had no issue paying her at the same daily rate but she hadn't actually asked.

Luckily for Claire, Gareth was too preoccupied with keeping his sickness under control to be his usual observing self. He nodded at their replies, and was glad to find that Quentin turned to Claire to do business. Gareth meanwhile, stared out of the window, turning rather pale.

She looked back over toward Quentin when he brought up the subject of payment. A smile curled at her lips and she said, "I will let you decide." She gestured as if it didn't matter. "I do wish to be of help to you, but I do admit it is the adventure that drew me." Her eyes flicked over to the ill-looking man and she tilted her head. She studied him for a moment while thinking about asking if he was alright. For the moment, she let him be and continued talking to Quentin. "In any case, if you don't find it necessary to pay me, I will live to see another day." It really didn't matter. She was, after all, an heiress.

Her concern for the reporter took over then and she asked Gareth, "Are you alright?"

The magnanimity of the offer makes Quentin chuckle deeply. "Well, I'll save the days wage then since you aren't worked up about it. But you'll get a share of the treasure just like everyone else." He smiles at her but then, much like her, Gareth's progressing illness caught his attention. The man looked as though he might just lose his lunch. "Are you alright Mister Scott? Do you not travel well?" He didn't recall the man getting motion sickness on the way down but perhaps it was the late hour combined with the days exertion?

Gareth would have been surprised by the strange exchange between the two - who didn't want to get money? - but he was too occupied with not vomiting. That was always the problem: Once he did start feeling sick, the feeling sick made him feel even sicker.

Oh shit, they noticed. Despite looking pale and miserable, he nodded, not daring to speak.

The nod was the last push. He rose and banged the roof of the carriage. "Stop the carriage!" he shouted, and if the driver listened, Gareth flung the door open, stumbled out - but shit, the steps hadn't been prepared, so he fell down - and threw up.

If the carriage didn't stop... well, let's just say Gareth hoped Quentin had servants to do his cleaning for him.