AN: Kind of OC, sorry...short too.
Arrow shuts and locks the door behind him, turning on Amelia to gaze at her pointedly.
"What?" she asks. "What's that look for?"
His brow furrows, a slow, triumphant smile emerging, and he points at her with one craggy finger.
"You like that Doctor," he tells her, sounding particularly self-satisfied, all pride and girlish glee. She wants to tell him he is acting like a woman, and when did they switch roles, she hadn't been informed that she had suddenly been the one to act her age, but she doesn't say any of that. Instead, she feels something hot bubbling up from her stomach, and, without re-thinking it, she cries out, much louder and with more protest than is necessary:
"I do not like him!"
Immediately afterwards in the silence that follows this, she purses her lips, glaring at him as he pulls himself up and puffs out his chest, obviously not convinced. She doesn't blame him...even she feels the insincerity in her statement, although she pushes this thought back with all the force in her body.
"Arrow, please," Amelia says, and there's an almost whine to her voice, "I don't. He's so, so..."
"Charming," Arrow offers.
"Yes, he---no! No, that is not...oh, honestly, you're too much. Really, be professional. He's simply my employer, all right? And since we're going to---" and here her voice lowers "---Treasure Planet, it's safe to assume he's quite insane. And, he's a doctor, completely inexperienced, not my type..."
But now she's off again, rambling about him, and all her First Mate does is take a small sip of tea raising his eyebrows at her. She throws up her hands, rolling her eyes, resigning herself to a voyage's worth of teasing and prodding and obnoxious, interrupting coughs that have nothing to do with being sick.