It was usually quiet on the pristine upper decks of the Nautilus—a peaceful calm that could have been driven by the complete trust Nemo's men had in his leadership, or a stern silence where the ship simply took on characteristics of it's new infamous crewmembers, either was the norm but neither reason mattered to Mina as long as the status quo of quiet remained. It had been a welcome difference from the busy clamber of London proper.
Something was wrong about tonight's quiet though. . .disturbing she would call it, a tingle along the shoulder that made her think some other invisible being was eating noisily in the cavernous dining hall and no one had let her in on the secret. It was the first night she had availed herself of the sumptuous public feast and Mina could only presume it was the same aura of enmity that had drawn both the Captain from his private quarters and the scoundrel Skinner from wherever the bloody hell he had been keeping himself. (Dorian—if Mina were to venture a guess—was still examining his nails for any refuse from souls he had torn away from small children.) Quatermain and the Boy had gone out into the French capital hours ago to capture. . .well they had all been told the identity of the gentleman of whom they had been sent to retrieve but that did little to help the process of putting a face to a name. Infamous they all may be—but not necessarily to each other.
She had seen at least five glasses of quality brandy rise and fall and disappear at the far end of the table, along with half a roasted fowl and numerous buttered potatoes. The token greenery was still in place though the alcohol showed no sign of stopping. Nemo had finished his more subtle platter some time ago and sat perusing reports as if reluctant to leave the table and company of others until the last moment. Mina alternated between her burgundy and ice water, eyeing the rare slice of beef with slight interest. For some reason she could ifeel/i Mina did not wish to return any earlier to her suite either—
"Is it true what they're sayin'," the thief spoke up, a splatter of chicken flying from the corner of what she dearly hoped was the vicinity of his mouth. "'E's some kinda vampire?"
Mina dropped her wineglass heavily upon the tabletop, stared down the invisible man, and pushed her chair back with a high-pitched squeal, her quarters suddenly looking incredibly appealing, auras and feelings be damned. Nemo's sedate tone followed her out.
"They do not have a name for what he is. But I believe he prefers 'Doctor'."