HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Back again! I'm a little late for this one, primarily because of how busy I've been lately, but I can promise that the worst of my workload is over, so I should have far more updates in the coming weeks for you guys. I'm trying to get this finished before my life gets hectic again.

RECAP:
- The planned execution date for the bounty hunters + pirates has been moved forward. They remain unaware of both the plot to kill them, and the plot to rescue them.
- We saw some of Roderich's past. (Wink wink nudge nudge, keep that flashback in mind for this chapter)
- Lukas used his powers to convince the others to try and save the prisoners, to Vlad's chagrin.

Okay, I don't want to come off as rude, but I would really appreciate it if you guys review and tell me what you think. Go ahead and think that I'm spoiled or annoying or whatever, but I spend hours and hours writing and editing this, and it only takes a few minutes (at most) to leave a review. So please tell me what you guys think!

Public Cell Block, Resistance Headqarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma
26th Maarch

2303 hours

Francis sighed, twisting so that his arm was pinned underneath him at an even more uncomfortable angle. One of the rebels who Feliks and the others said were good had come around earlier, right after the dinner rounds. She hadn't spoken much, just poked her fingers through the bars and murmured. "Don't sleep."

He wouldn't have taken it seriously, if not for the sharp tone in her voice, and the dark shadows in her eyes. The others had dismissed it as some sort of odd threat, but Francis had been unnerved. She had said it less like a command and more like a plea. Like she really wanted them to not sleep tonight. Perhaps it was just cruelty on her part, or perhaps it had another meaning to it.

In any case, Francis knew that he was likely the only one still awake. Vash might also still be up, if only because he was the dictionary definition of an insomniac. The others had all lapsed into sleep, though. Francis was the only person who seemed to think that her warning was legitimate. It was hard to force himself to stay awake, though. The whole area was much quieter than usual, and there was a gentle wind which was causing a low, soothing whistle as it went through the hall outside their cell. It wasn't so cold as it had been last night, and they'd been given better mattresses just earlier today, and the increased level of comfort was making him want to lie down and just relax.

Growling a little under his breath, he rummaged through the meagre belongings that he had kept on his person, before he pulled the small sachet out of his pocket. It exuded a strong perfume that very nearly made him gag. Hamide Boushab's face momentarily swam in front of his eyes, and he turned his eyes down. He was awake now, and he doubted he'd sleep at all.

27th Maarch

0056 hours

Francis swore that even the normal conversation which could be heard very late at night had ceased. The area around them felt dead, deserted. A shiver went up his spine.

Don't sleep

This felt wrong, so very, very wrong.

That rebel had told them not to fall asleep tonight, and she'd meant it. He shook Gilbert a little, but the albino barely stirred, and he withdrew his hand, heart pounding. He could be wrong, but there was something off here. Something wasn't being said.

0112 hours

Francis gave in to his concerns, and shook Arthur awake. The pirate had been sleeping fitfully anyway, and barely needed to be touched before he had dragged himself up into a sitting position, murmuring inquiries.

Francis didn't feel as stupid telling Arthur that he felt something was wrong as he should have. When he fell silent, he knew that the blond was listening out for the sounds that they could normally hear at this time of night. Arthur clearly noted the silence.

"That isn't normal." He said quietly, voice raspy and worn. Francis nodded, though knew that Arthur wouldn't see it.

"That's what I thought." He said grimly.

They sat in silence.

0139 hours

There was something moving outside, he could tell. Arthur's back had gone ramrod straight, similar to Francis' own. There were people, just outside, walking around and murmuring to each other.

Arthur was shaking, though Francis knew it was due less to the people outside than it was due to the rapidly encroaching cold of the night. He saw, aided by a slice of moonlight coming through their barred window, Arthur pull the lumpy beanie given to him by his brother Colin over his head. Francis silently passed him a blanket.

Without doubt, Arthur was tired, nauseous and freezing, but he didn't lie back down to sleep again.

The pair sat together, silent sentinels, both fearful, for hours.

0241 hours

It took three and a half hours for Francis to be proven right.

He had been slumped against the wall, body relaxed but mind sharp and awake, when footsteps reached his ears again. There were a lot more of them, and they sounded fast, urgent.

Forgoing his doubts, Francis immediately took to shoving and shaking everyone awake. Arthur aided him, though the slowness and weakness of Arthur's movements meant that Francis did most of the work. They were all awake, whispering to one another fearfully and looking around in confusion, when the masked man arrived at the barred door.

They all went still, staring and waiting as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The shape of what Francis guessed was a rifle was slung over his shoulder. He jerked his head roughly.

"Follow us."

They were all tired and unarmed, and in their bewilderment, obeyed as they were first escorted from the cell and handcuffed. Another masked figure slipped into the cell past them, looking like they were cleaning it, or something similar. Francis only realised how dangerous that their obedience was when they were being ushered out of the prison block, and pushed towards the back of a tarp-covered truck. They climbed in slowly, falteringly, and sat along hard wooden benches as the van started to move.

For such a large vehicle, it moved remarkably quietly. They were all silent. He could see that Mei still had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked more confused than afraid, and had her head tucked into Arthur's shoulder as she murmured sleepily. Leon looked equally exhausted, though he had neglected to bring anything warm with him, and looked just as ready to use the captain as a pillow.

Gilbert prodded at his elbow, and he turned to face him. "What's going on?" he murmured. Francis shrugged, before responding.

"I have no idea." He admitted.

The people transporting them weren't talking to each other at all. They were all wearing masks and long robes to keep themselves concealed. Each of them, as Francis had spotted, was also holding a high-calibre rifle. The truck bounced a little, and Francis winced as he heard Arthur retching. Judging by the soft murmuring which followed it, Alfred was sitting nearby. He heard disgruntled muttering from Leon, but silence fell among them all when the guard in the back with them barked for them to be quiet.

The truck continued to bounce and jerk around as they drove. Gradually, they slowed down, and the path they drove along seemed to get more and more windy. Judging by the shaking of the truck, they were in the forest, driving over the huge tree roots. They still couldn't see anything. The night had reached its darkest and most desolate.

Suddenly, the van slammed to a stop. They all let out noises of surprise as they were slammed into each other, though, as Francis noted with annoyance, their guard remained standing. There was a moment of total silence as they all straightened up on their seats again, before muffled voices sounded from outside. They weren't speaking Common, and when he strained his ears, Francis thought that he heard the rolling notes of High Nymian. As their voices grew louder, he saw Vash go completely still.

Nausea seized his stomach, but he hardly had any time to process what could possibly be happening before they were being shoved out of the van by their guard. They all landed haphazardly on top of each other, but no sooner than they had stood up again, were they being shoved forwards again. Francis stumbled, but managed to stay upright this time.

There were about six robed, masked rebels in front of them.

Francis was about to ask what in the system was going on, when one of them unslung their rifle from their back, quickly loading it. One of the other rebels picked up a bag, opened it, and pulled out dark hoods, which they quickly started to pull down over the faces of his friends.

Fear enveloped everything. This was an execution. The rebel with the hoods was moving up the line, and finally reached him. He tried to jerk away, shaking his head.

"No, no, please don't." He said, not caring that tears were starting to spill down his cheeks. The hood was pulled over his head anyway. The last thing he saw was one of the rebels nodding at another.

The hood was stifling. The darkness of the material meant that he couldn't see anything out of it. The thickness of the material meant that he felt like he was suffocating.

He heard voices from outside. Everyone must have been given a hood. The noise of a rifle being cocked met his ears, and Francis felt bile rise in the back of his throat. A single word caught his attention.

"Nesset."

It wasn't a Nymian word, as far as he knew. But it's meaning eluded him, and any thought of it fled his head, because just after he heard it, a gunshot broke the night's heavy silence.

One gunshot, followed by the heavy, tell-tale thud of a body hitting the ground. His entire body froze, preparing for the next gunshot, and the next noise which would indicate that another one of his friends was dead.

But none followed.

For all the stress which had been involved, it had been almost criminally easy when it came down to it.

Dalisay Mendoza's team of combat snipers had been assigned the mission of executing the seventeen prisoners locked in their cell block. Dalisay supported Octavia, but she was an inherently good person. The first idea for their plan would not work.

Matthew had expected that it would be complex, death-defying, even. All it had taken was the offer to do a shift in the kitchen, and hand food servings to five of the six members of Dalisay's crew, Dalisay herself included. All that he'd had to do was lace their food gently with a sleeping agent which acted on a certain time limit. All it had taken was for them to extricate the prone bodies of their sleeping peers and place them in their beds, and make it appear like they had overslept.

After that, all that had to be done was for Matthew, Elizabeta, Tino, Vlad and Ines to take the clothes of Dalisay's crew, pull them on, and use voice modifiers to convince the last member of Dalisay's team that they were in fact his friends.

It hurt a little, having to shoot Nesset. He wasn't a bad guy, not at all, but he was one of Octavia's more extreme supporters – the Vice General herself was uncomfortable with how invested he had been in the idea of killing the seventeen prisoners.

All Matthew had to do was call Nesset's name to get his attention, and direct his gun away from the prisoners, towards the other man's face, and pull the trigger. One of the prisoners, who had been standing the closest to Nesset, flinched away and gasped in shock when she felt blood and gore splatter itself across her chest. There was a beat of total silence as Matthew lowered his gun, broken only by Nesset's body hitting the ground. Though the girl behind Nesset seemed to be putting two and two together, none of the other prisoners seemed to understand what was going on.

Matthew slung his gun back over his shoulder, marched towards the line, and started to pull the prisoners away, shoving them back towards the truck. Elizabeta and Tino followed his lead, quickly ushering them back inside. They didn't bother to see if they were seated; Ines threw herself into the driver's seat and slammed her foot onto the accelerator. Matthew had to sprint a few metres and jump up onto the back, grabbing a hold of the side to drag himself onboard. Ines was a fairly good driver, but she was obviously throwing caution to the wind as she drove. She turned wildly and hurtled along the forest floor. It was lucky for them that the roots of the trees made it impossible for vehicles to leave tracks. Otherwise, the route of their escape would have been all too obvious.

Matthew tightened his grip on the side of the truck. He felt positively wretched, leaving Nesset's body back there, but they had no choice. They didn't have the time to bury him.

He was brought back to reality by Ines slamming on the brakes, similar to how she had done on their way to the clearing. He hopped down, looking around. It was still dark, but it had been over an hour since they had taken them from the cells, and the sky looked like it was fractionally lighter. Matthew cursed. These prisoners needed to be secured, under guard, and they all needed to be back in bed in less than two hours.

He almost threw the back of the truck open, pulling the prisoners out carelessly. Vlad, who had made his way back around, started to pull them to their feet and shove them towards the abandoned shipping container concealed between the trees. Elizabeta immediately lent her help to Vlad, as Matthew and Tino scrambled towards it. The door was thrown open as they approached it by Kristian, who looked immensely relieved. Lukas, also dressed in dark robes and a mask, was with him. Matthew nodded at him. Good. His task had been to plant evidence of gunpowder in the cell, to make it appear that one of them had retained a gun – which would explain Nesset's death. They had originally planned to have Lukas plant false memories in the minds of Dalisay and her crew after they had rescued the prisoners, but had deemed the process too time-consuming and risky.

He knew that they would be among her top suspects, but that was where their best chance of getting off scot-free lay. They had a 'meeting' with Ayshe scheduled for 5am. Though there was almost no way that they would actually make it on time, she would be there to assure Octavia that they had all been brutally punctual. The Vice-Admiral had been creating false notes for the 'meeting' for several hours yesterday. They would all have undeniable alibis, and since the bullet from Matthew's stolen gun was the same as that from the gun which had 'accidentally' been dropped at the site of Nesset's body, there was no evidence of any other interference from them specifically. The suspicious lack of witnesses, and the unusual lie-in experienced by Dalisay's crew would attract attention, but Matthew hoped that there were no loose ends to be traced back to them. Even Nesset's death could be explained away, as he had been stationed near the prison that night as a guard. It was easy enough to assume that he'd seen their escape and followed them in pursuit. Lukas had planted evidence of that around the cell block, as well.

All in all, Matthew and his friends were spinning quite the mystery for Octavia to solve.

The prisoners began to be escorted inside, and Matthew quickly surveyed the room. There were no external windows, though there was a skylight installed, and Kristian had kitted out one side of the room with sleeping bags and blankets for their prisoners, though, Matthew noted, there were also numerous locks and chains on the outside of the container. They couldn't risk them escaping. They wanted them alive, certainly, but Octavia wasn't wrong about the danger that they posed to the resistance.

The large group was quickly shoved down into one corner of the container, and Tino moved between them, removing their handcuffs, and finally, their hoods, keeping one hand on his rifle as he stepped away. Matthew found him immediately.

Elizabeta wasn't wrong. The resemblance between the two of them was downright jarring. Alfred's face looked much the same as his own, though there were a few notable differences. Though Alfred looked like he might be marginally taller, Matthew's frame was leaner and lither than his younger brother's. Matthew's hair was also vastly lighter than his – light blond to Alfred's golden brown – and his own violet eyes were not reflected in his brother's face, replaced instead by eyes in a shade of deep blue. His brother also had much shorter fingers. Matthew almost envied him. He had been told about how his fingers were those of 'a high-grade pianist' for years.

Their skin looked roughly the same shade, though Alfred's looked just slightly more tanned than his own. Then there were differences not brought about by genetics. Alfred's hair was short, whereas Matthew kept his own rather long. Alfred's nails were bitten down, while Matthew kept his long (all the better for scratching potential attackers). The mirror-image was further wrecked, as Matthew bore a vicious scar which twisted along his collarbone and surged up into the skin of his neck. Alfred was unblemished.

A small thrill went through him when he saw that Alfred wore glasses. Clearly, bad eyesight was another genetic trait they shared.

He just stood there, staring at him for a moment, before he looked away. He needed to focus. All seventeen of them had their eyes fixed on him and Tino, looking fearful and extremely confused. Finally, one of them, with long blond hair and blue eyes, managed to ask.

"What's happening?" he didn't ask loudly, but they all heard him. Matthew and Tino were silent, but were spared from having to answer by Elizabeta, who marched in behind them and pulled her mask from her face. Relief flooded through the faces of Gilbert, Feliks, Tori and Roderich, and they all seemed to relax. Elizabeta grinned.

"We just saved you. That's what happened." She said simply, sitting down in one of a few assorted chairs scattered around the room. "The current administration decided that you had all become redundant, and ordered for you to be executed. As semi-decent human beings, we objected to that, hijacked the execution team and saved all of your asses. So," she leant back, folding her arms, "what do you say?"

Gilbert didn't hesitate. "Thank you." He said, sounding a little awed. She smiled softly, nodding at him.

"You're welcome." She responded. "Now, for safety reasons, we have to keep you guys in here for the foreseeable future, but we can promise that we aren't about to go and shoot you." They all nodded, with all but a few looking very relieved. One of them, however, frowned.

"But if all of us are okay…who got shot?" Elizabeta's grin faded away. She averted her gaze, and it somehow found Matthew. Her expression shifted to the side of his (still-masked) face, whitening a little. The attention of their prisoners was also drawn towards him. He tensed his shoulders when he reached towards the side of his face. His hand came away red and slick. Of course, he was still covered in Nesset's blood. The girl who had also been coated in it looked down at her dirty shirt in horror.

"We did what we had to do." Elizabeta said firmly as she turned to face them again. "Right now, we also need you guys to do what we need you to do. It's pretty simple, so don't worry about forgetting. First of all, you are not permitted to leave this place, ever, unless one of us is with you. You need to be quiet, and not draw any unnecessary attention either to yourselves or this place. I don't care if you have some unsolved agreements, you'll all just have to shut up and cooperate while you're still in here, got it?" they all nodded, looking uneasy. Matthew's brother spoke up.

"What will happen if we disobey?" he asked. There was a stubborn tilt in his jaw, and Matthew groaned internally. He could already tell that Alfred would be a handful. Elizabeta shrugged.

"You'll probably be found, robbed of any and all money you have access to, executed by soldiers and have your bodies dumped in a ditch." She said casually. Alfred's face paled a little, but he kept his composure and nodded calmly. Matthew didn't stick around to hear the rest of whatever Elizabeta started to say next. He turned and exited the container, checking his watch. They were actually on time. Perfect. Tino followed him out. Lukas was peering inside curiously, and drew away a little when Matthew approached.

"Sorry." The young royal murmured. "He looks so much like you." Matthew cast a last glance towards his younger brother.

"Tell me about it." He muttered. They stepped outside and began to close up all the locks. Elizabeta had volunteered to take the first shift guarding them. Ali would arrive later today to take over. They all hastened to remove their dark robes and masks, as well as throw away the gun which Matthew had used to shoot Nesset. Noting the time again, they quickly moved away, ready to start the trek through the forest back to headquarters.

By the work of some saint or another, they all made it back in time. Nesset's blood hadn't seeped onto Matthew's actual face, so all he had to do was slip into some new clothes, and feign energetics to conceal his exhaustion. He, Tino, Kari, Ines, Ali and Nelia all managed to show up for their 'meeting' with Ayshe, and passed the one and a half hours that they had allotted for it by power-napping. Ayshe made sure that no-one disturbed them and noticed that they weren't actually doing any sort of work. Matthew groaned and complained when it was over. He hadn't slept properly since before the rest of the criminals had shown up.

He ran his hand through his hair. He would have to take up a guard shift at one point or another, and he couldn't very well wear a mask. A part of him didn't want to talk to Alfred at all, but the logical part of his brain knew that if he didn't, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

It was hard to even think about. But he wouldn't try to get out of a guard shift just because of it. They had already realised that Tino couldn't be a guard since they would likely recognise his face from his wanted posters. Matthew, perhaps for the first time ever, cursed Tino's aptitude with guns. He pushed the thoughts of his brother out of his mind. He was going to have to use every little acting skill that he had ever had in the next few days, starting today.

He bid farewell to the others and strolled from the tent. It was finally breakfast time, and he was keen to end the gnawing hunger in his stomach.

He found Lukas half-slumped over one of the tables in the dining hall, scrawling in a notebook. Matthew raised an eyebrow as he sat next to him. The younger teen barely acknowledged his presence, frowning down at his messy writing. Matthew sighed, before reaching out and waving a hand in front of Lukas' face. The Fynknian rolled his eyes, but looked at him.

"Good job planting that evidence. Ayshe said that you did a good job." Lukas nodded a little.

"Yeah, thanks." he murmured, still frowning at his notes. Matthew glanced at them curiously as he started on the fruit he'd taken from the breakfast stand.

"What is that?" he asked. Lukas sighed, sliding it over the table. It was a list of names, some of which had been crossed out or circled. Almost illegible notes had been scrawled in the margins, and Matthew raised an eyebrow when he flicked back through the previous pages, taking note of the pages and pages, which all contained similar lists. He handed it back to Lukas as the other boy started to explain.

"They're the names of people we have under review. We're trying to eliminate them like you said." Matthew winced a little, hoping that his orders hadn't been keeping Lukas up at night.

"Anyone standing out yet?" he inquired. Lukas sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Not really. We aren't looking at the whole resistance, only people stationed here, and only people who have a rank of Lieutenant and above. Anyone ranked lower wouldn't be able to access the sort of information which this spy has been giving out. But…we haven't found much yet. Even with me and Emilia helping, I'm yet to find anyone with less innocent intentions." He sighed, looking at the paper with an expression caught between frustration and despondence.

Matthew smiled sympathetically.

"We'll catch them, don't you worry." He assured him. "I know that we have what it takes." Lukas sighed.

"Yeah, I don't doubt that we'll be able to catch them. My worry is that we won't be able to catch them before Yao's trial." Matthew sighed.

"Yeah, I'm starting to think that that isn't an achievable goal either." He cast his eyes downwards. "What we need to do is start thinking smarter. Just going through names won't help. We need to look for specific characteristics and attributes which could help us identify our spy. We need to start analysing their methods and using them to catch this person." Lukas nodded.

"True." He said, closing his notebook and tucking it into his jacket pocket. "I'll look into it later. Too tired right now." Matthew chuckled, casting his gaze around as Lukas started to swipe pieces of fruit from his bowl. He could hardly argue with that. There was some sort of commotion over near the door, and he could see Octavia talking frantically with Vice-General Gabras. Clearly, the absence of the prisoners had been duly noted. He turned away, nudging Lukas slightly with his foot. The Fynknian must have read his thoughts or noticed Octavia's distress, because he sat up, forcing his eyes open. He was a remarkably good actor, Matthew would give him that. He wouldn't have guessed that the teen was completely exhausted just from looking at him.

Matthew could feel eyes on his back. Shoving the last of his breakfast towards Lukas, he stood and walked from the dining tent.

Antonio reclined against the wall. Their previous guard, Elizabeta, had been replaced with a young Syhvvanian about an hour ago. The kid couldn't possibly have been older than 17, but none of them were keen to fight him, mostly due to the fact that he had an automatic rifle on his lap and about five knives strapped to his belt. His name was Romeo, if Antonio's ears were serving him correctly. Romeo was just as talkative as Elizabeta had been, asking them questions about Reycass, how they'd managed to get themselves captured, and what being a bounty hunter was like. He was incessantly curious, though in more of an endearing rather than irritating way. Some of the others had caved in and answered his questions with the bare basics of detail and hardly any specifics.

Antonio was glad for Romeo's childish blabber, though. Their entire group had been enveloped in a tense, uncomfortable silence when Elizabeta had left. Alfred was still angry at them all – he was angry at Feliks and Gilbert for claiming that his long-lost brother was a rebel fighter, angry at Arthur for backing them up, and angry at Matthias for telling him to calm down a little. The pirates looked supremely confused the entire time, and Antonio envied them. Alfred's brother was a very contentious topic of conversation with Alfred, and it always had been.

Antonio could hardly even imagine the pain that Alfred felt over losing his brother, but even Antonio's patience and forgiving nature was getting pulled tight. He would have thought that Alfred would be delighted to think that his brother was alive and well. Apparently not. Antonio himself had never had a sibling, though he'd often wanted for one. But he had never complained directly to his parents. It had been hard enough for them to have him, much less give him a younger sibling as well. He sighed. It had been months since he'd gotten to go home to Jhobras and talk to them. He missed it a lot, though he did genuinely like spending time on Reycass and being with his friends.

He was pulled from his reverie by yelling to his right. He groaned. Alfred was yelling at Feliks and Gilbert again. Romeo seemed unbothered by their arguing, though Antonio did notice that he was brushing his fingers across the trigger of his gun. Sighing, Antonio turned to try and break up the fight, setting eyes on the cursing trio just as Alfred decided to swing a fist at Gilbert's face. Unfortunately, the albino was already backed against the wall, and didn't really have anywhere to turn to avoid it. Alfred's hit caught him hard in the jaw and he yelped in pain, cradling it with his hands. It had split his lip open, and Antonio could see blood already flowing down his chin. Arthur, who was right behind Gilbert, dragged himself halfway to his feet and tried to haul Alfred's flailing hands away. Alfred just lashed out at him too. Arthur was a little faster than Gilbert, however, and the only thing that Alfred's flailing managed to do was knock his wool beanie on his head.

Berwald, choosing for once to actually get involved, lunged forwards and pinned Alfred's arms behind his back painfully. The tall man was glowering silently, not budging an inch as Alfred struggled to free his arms.

"Calm down. We haven't done anything." He said slowly. Alfred struggled for a few more moments, glaring at Berwald.

"They keep lying about my fucking brother!"

"And, for the last fucking time, you stupid shit-head, we aren't lying!" Gilbert roared back at him, wincing. His entire jaw was smeared with blood, and it was already starting to darken and swell. Their guard, who had his gun propped up and ready to fire now, blinked at them.

"Are you guys talking about Matt?" he asked curiously. He observed Alfred. "I mean, I thought that you two looked crazy alike, but I didn't want to butt in." Alfred glared at him.

"Why is everyone here so committed to lying to me?" he growled. Romeo raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know if you've realised this, but I've never met you before. What possible reason would I have to lie to you?" as Alfred moved to gesture to Feliks, Gilbert, Tori and Roderich, Romeo shook his head. "I've never met them before, either. I don't care if you believe me or not, but trust me when I say that they aren't lying. Matt looks, like, almost identical to you." He squinted at Alfred. "Maybe a little taller…and paler." He cocked his head to the side. "No, I think you might be taller, actually." He shrugged. "In any case, you need to calm down. If you guys make noise like that again, I'll shoot you." Antonio stiffened. He had almost forgotten the strict out-of-sight-out-of-mind approach which the rebels were trying to enforce here. Their job was to stay as quiet and still as possible. Romeo sat back again, shifting his grip on his gun without removing his finger from the trigger. His gaze slid over all of them, before it paused on Arthur, and he raised an eyebrow.

"That's an odd colouring job." He commented airily. Antonio glanced the pirate's way. Upon hearing Romeo's comment, he'd quickly retrieved his wool cap from behind him and pulled it down over his hair. Antonio and Roderich, as the two sitting closest to him, however, caught a glimpse. Antonio raised an eyebrow as well. It was probably just dust or dirt, considering the amount of travel that they'd done. Roderich, though… Roderich looked beyond mortified. Antonio honestly cast a look around for the bucket Arthur had been given, because the pirate looked like he was about to be sick. He rolled his eyes a little. It was a bit of an over-reaction in his eyes.

The others, having failed to catch a glimpse, shrugged and went back to their own conversations. Antonio cast one glance at the pirate captain, who seemed to be trying to have a conversation with Roderich based entirely in stares and facial expressions. Maybe Roderich had something against hair dye? Antonio couldn't blame him that much. Grey was an odd choice.