"Ahoy, Jane!"
Giannine looked down from the crow's nest of the pirate ship. Below, she saw one of her shipmates, and although she couldn't see details, she knew it had to be Scurvy William. Normally he would have met her at the top of the mast to relieve her from her lookout post, but with his injury from the most recent battle barely scabbing over, he would need a boost onto the rigging before he could climb to the top. She would have to meet him at the bottom.
Nimbly descending the ropes, she landed lightly on the deck. Turning to face William, she stopped short.
It wasn't him.
The young man was dressed as he had been earlier, but without his large floppy hat that had obscured most of his face in shadow. Now, with the moonlight shining directly on him as the sun had been unable to do, Giannine saw that it was him. Even at night, there was no mistaking that face, and particularly those eyes.
Kenric. Nigel. One and the same. And apparently this pirate as well.
Had he put himself into this game too? And if he had, was he the bad guy again?
Giannine's face must have registered her shock, since Nigel- no, she reminded herself, here he had been called Jonathan- smiled at her.
"William should be on his way soon," he explained. "I asked him to be a few minutes late."
"Why?" Giannine asked, warily. She didn't want to trust him right away, even though he had so far given no signs of duplicity.
"I asked him to," he said simply.
"Well, I think I'll go find him," Gianinne replied, and moved towards the hatch that led to the cabins. She was tired and didn't have time to waste with possibly evil (though very attractive, and therefore dangerous) copies of her real life crush.
"Wait," she heard behind her, suddenly a note of panic in his voice, "I need to talk to you, there won't be another chance in this one-"
She kept going.
"Giannine!"
She froze.
Game characters shouldn't know her real name. To them, she was Jane, a seafaring stowaway waif.
He couldn't know who she was…unless…
She turned back, looking into the face she knew all too well, but never as well as she would like.
"…Nigel?" she asked, tentatively.
He stepped forward, closing the gap between them.
"Giannine, I needed to talk to you."
"We just did, when I came in today, like always."
"No, I…I couldn't…" he shook his head. "I needed to talk to you…somewhere else…" He stepped closer again, and fumblingly took her hands in his, not meeting her gaze.
Giannine held her breath.
"I…I'm really glad I met you, and…well, not under the circumstances as they were, obviously, but still, getting to know you over the past few months has been, it's just…"
He sighed, and looked up at her, his eyes wide, intense, and strangely pleading.
"Giannine, I- I really like you, and I was wondering if…if I could…"
His eyes flicked to her mouth.
She couldn't wait for him to finish asking permission.
Not knowing where the courage came from, Giannine took Nigel's face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. Somewhere around her middle she felt her stomach grow warm and fluttery as his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She tangled her hands in his hair, slid them across his back, touching him as much as she could, knowing it was all fake, half fearing it was a joke, or a dream, or a glitch in the system, and all the time wondering when Scurvy William would-
She heard the uneven clunk of his limp coming across the deck, and she pulled back as if burned, her face flushing in the moonlight.
Nigel stepped forwards and quickly murmured a few words to Scurvy William. William's face went blank for a moment, then he nodded curtly to the two and began to climb the rigging to the crow's nest.
Nigel took Giannine's hand and led her away from the mast.
"What…what was that?" she asked quietly.
"Vocal override commands," Nigel replied just as softly, "so whatever he…if he saw anything, it won't mess with the game's programming. I'm supposed to be a computer character in this one."
"I like you better real," Giannine murmured.
Nigel squeezed her hand, and answered, "Well, you still have a little bit left in the game-"
"The game can wait."
"Yes ma'am," Nigel grinned, and rapped out a pattern with his fist on the railing of the ship.
At the command, the game began to fade, and Giannine watched Nigel until her mind faded into black.
In the brief cool-down time before she could fully detach from the game, her mind focused on one thing:
While the game was remarkable, everything was still more intense in real life.
She couldn't wait to see those eyes again. To be held by his arms. To touch his lips.
The real ones.