Driftwood I: Flyboat

Black smoke billowed overhead, trailing behind the flyboat as it paddled up and away from the dock. Bright yellow sparks danced in the air above the paddle wheels on either side of the vessel, flashstone at work, keeping them afloat. Westam laid back into the bench, watching with dulled interest as the other passengers settled in on the deck around him. It'd be a couple days until the boat reached the city, this was the closest thing to entertainment he'd get until then. A woman took a seat across the deck, glancing nervously at the other passengers as she did so. Why?
Westam decided to entertain himself by making up stories for those he dared not speak to. Anything he imagined would be infinitely more interesting than their realities, after all. This woman must be the heiress to a coal baron, she's stolen a great sum of cash from her father and is en route to the great city where her lover awaits. Now, she's...pulling a bandana over her face? Westam raised an eyebrow, surely this isn't what he thinks it is? They were too close to the dock for something so bold. Another passenger, seated nearby, tied a similar bandana over their beak. Then another. The three masked passengers all rose in unision, wearing identical bandanas.
We've all seen yer faces already, idiots. Westam thought to himself as he watched the trio brandish their guns. One of them, a slim figure wearing a vest meant for a much bigger bird, accidentally bumped into their larger accomplice and reflexively fired their gun into the innocent deck below.
"Ah! We're...ya'll're being, this is a robbery!" They shouted, finding their voice only at the end of the sentence. "Jus' give us anythin' worth anythin' and we ain't gonna hurt no one!"
Westam forgot to feign fear, he was much too busy stifling a laugh. Feller probably never shot that thing before, lookit im! He's shakin! The vest-wearing bandit, still trembling a little, nodded to their accomplices. The first bandit, the woman Westam had been watching, now began collecting the other passengers' valuables into a large sack. These were pathetic sorts Westam was sure had never so much as seen a fight before, who were easily cowed into parting with their money, jewelry, and peace of mind. Westam placed a hand behind his back, watching the scene unfold with amusement. Guess this ain't gonna be a boring ride.
As the woman reached a trembling young man, he suddenly stood up and grabbed her wrist. "Y-y'all won't get away wit' this!" Before he could say another word, the woman broke free from his weak grip, stuffed the sack over his head, and tossed him off the edge. Westam put a hand over his beak, it was all he could do to stop from laughing now. Amateur.
The larger bandit ran up to the edge, watching with dismay as the bag, and the boy, fell to the distant ground below. "Ya idiot, ya just tossed yer cut off the boat!" He growled.
"I ain't seen you git any." The woman mumbled. The larger bandit glared at her for a moment, then scanned the deck, looking for easy prey— before aiming his revolver directly at Westam. Westam didn't move as the man took a few slow, measured strides up to him. Clearly he was attempting to be intimidating, but the fact that his vest was much too small for him— it must have belonged to his thinner accomplice— significantly undermined his presence. How the hell did ya accidentally swap vests?! Westam wondered.
The man towered over him. "Alright fancy boy, wit' a hat that nice, you outta have somethin' valuable." He leaned in. "Give it."
Westam grinned as a plume of green smoke swirled out the tip of his beak, curling into the air like a beckoning finger. His grip tightened on the revolver hidden behind his back. "How 'bout I show ya what real robbery looks like?"