Chapter 6

I apologize for my extended delay! A combination of writer's block, school, and family issues have detained me from continuing my story. For those who have been anticipating the next chapters, you have my sincerest apologies. Please forgive me Please enjoy the story thus far!!!!!

Both the First Mate and Ashe made their walk to the galley with little…actually no talking. It wasn't exactly awkward, just somewhat tense. Sure, she could have refused the invitation. It's not like the thought didn't cross her mind at least once or twice to just turn back and return to the sanctity of solitude within her room.

Antisocial? Maybe. Personally she found the word filled with too much angst and misanthropic. Sure, her social skills were hardly up to par from time to time. It's not like she literally lived in total isolation, whether she worked for the Order or not. Back in New York, she was known throughout the local nightclubs and pubs for her singing. She had friends…sort of. Joe, Hound-dog…well she couldn't really think of others. However, she simply enjoyed a peaceful existence. Ashe found the stereotypical loner burdened by self-loathing a depressing image altogether, much like reading an excerpt from Emily Dickenson or Edgar Allen Poe. In truth, she was content with solitude due to a basic result of her work ethic.

Working for the Order wasn't like a nine-to-five job. You didn't clock in and clock out. Describing her line of work was a difficult task, one she prided on herself for being able to avoid doing so. Sure, they went by the pseudonym "Marshall Industries". It wouldn't be a secret society if everyone knew about it, now would it?

Now, it's not the Illuminati or the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. It wasn't some organization bent on world domination or religious fanaticism. The rabbit hole dwelled much deeper than that. So deep that Ashe doubted one would ever delve deep enough to even scratch the surface beyond the realm dividing coincidence and fate. If you went too far…chances are you wouldn't live to see the light of day ever again. It was why she left.

She noticed Hayes glance back quickly, "You okay?"

His question shook her out from the depths of her thought, "Sorry?"

"You're quiet," he explained as he walked.

"Who talks much, must talk in vain," she said, quoting John Gay. "What's the point in opening one's mouth when there is not much to be said?"

Continuing onward, the First Mate did not speak again, and so must have been content with her answer. Well, it was honest. As they walked down the winding halls in lengthy silence which lasted for a good few minutes, they finally reached one of the doorways which lead to the galley. The sound of chatter could be heard from the hallway. There was no door, just a frame which led to mess room which was filled with a few tables and a counter dividing it from Lumpy's kitchen.

Hayes stood by the frame, then motioned for Ashe, "Ladies first."

"You're not coming?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I've already had dinner. It's my shift on the bridge," he said before turning and walking back down the hall.

She sighed, rolling her eyes before stepping forward. Instantly, Jack and Ann came into view, sitting together with Preston and Jimmy. A few sailors sat scattered between the tables. Choy and Lumpy could be spotted behind the counter, working within the kitchen. The aroma of food, or at least Ashe suspected what could be food, floated in the air. She saw a chalkboard on the wall near the counter with the words, Beef Stew Special.

She wondered if the mystery meat in the stew was really beef because by the smell, she had her doubts. But who was she to complain? It's not like she was much a chef herself. Then again, it wasn't really a lifelong aspiration to become a model housewife, thus she felt it was a loss she could live with.

The moment she entered the mess hall, a hush fell upon the small crowd. No, it wasn't complete silence. The majority of the sailors simply paused for a moment while giving Ashe the occasional sideways glance before returning to their own conversations. However, she could see Jimmy, Preston, Jack, and Ann quickly turn towards her.

If she didn't know better, she swore she could have seen Jimmy's face lighten with the hint of a smile. Even Ann seemed to be glad she finally joined the group. Seconds past and not one of them spoke.

"Somebody finally decided to grace us with their presence, eh?" she heard Lumpy say from behind the counter, taking it upon himself to apparently 'break the ice'.

"The kid kept bringing me my food with no salt. Got annoying after a while," Ashe declared. Technically she never really asked for salt, but hey, it was a sound excuse.

Walking toward the table, Jimmy moved over to offer a seat between her and Preston. Within seconds of being seated, Choy brought out a warm bowl of stew. He even gave her a small saltshaker.

"Nice and fresh," he proclaimed happily. She nodded in gratitude while the corner of her lip lifted into a smile. After sprinkling some salt she picked up her spoon, lightly blowing on the steaming broth to cool it before allowing it to touch her tongue.

She had to admit…it wasn't half bad. Just one of those meals one needed to overlook their sense of smell. She took a few more spoonfuls before raising her eyes to look at those seated at the table with her, for it had taken her a moment to realize they hadn't really spoken since she had arrived.

"How was Kong when you left him?" Ann took the opportunity to speak up.

"Sleeping like a baby," Ashe answered. With so many sedatives coursing through his system, she had her doubts he would wake if the ship was directly struck by a torpedo at full speed. The actress seemed relieved by her reply.

"So how has your voyage been so far, Miss Ashe?" Preston asked politely.

"Ashe!" Both Jimmy and she corrected simultaneously.

"Jinx," Ashe smiled to the kid. She looked back to Preston, "Not half bad."

"You travel much?" he continued, taking a sip from his glass of water. "I mean, you don't seem to be seasick at all!

She gave a light shrug, "Not so much anymore."

"Why not?" Ann questioned, "You sort of struck me as the adventurous sort."

"Yeah, well, I'm usually too busy lately," Ashe admitted before taking another spoonful. "It's nice to get out now though. The city's been too chilly for my taste. Africa has much more accommodating climates…well, once you get over the searing heat waves."

Ann seemed to perk up by her last sentence, "You've been to Africa before? What's it like?!"

Stopping for a moment to consider how best describe what was perhaps her most favorite continent. The past few centuries, throughout its history…its wonders, tragedies, peoples have captivating not just her heart, but that of most modern civilizations. It was like the one frontier man could never truly tame. Its deserts, plains, and forests hold more secrets than humanity could fathom. The landscape had been defined by millions of years of change and growth, yielding the most spectacular beauties the world has ever seen.

Smiling, Ashe answered, "It's hard to describe exactly. It's like…describing a dream, really."

"What did you like about it so much?" Jack finally spoke up.

She took a few minutes before replying, "It's the best place to forget about your own problems."

"How so, exactly?" Ann asked confused.

Ashe gave a light shrug, "The place is huge. Take a long walk through the Savannah or the Sahara….life seems more simple. It's peaceful, I guess. Lack of population and all."

"Kinda like being at sea," Jimmy commented.

She nodded in agreement. Her favorite place in Africa was undoubtedly the desert. Sure, the humidity wasn't exactly the most agreeable of its features, but that didn't matter. She'd take steamy weather over cold weather any day. But the desert was more than just a sweltering sand box. It wasn't a wasteland in her eyes. There was life, but not in the way it more commonly appears such as in the form of vegetation or variety of wildlife. She saw the sand dunes as living currents, much like the waves of the oceans. Forever moving, forever changing. Never staying the same for too long. The wind was like the breath of God himself, breathing life into the desert. It was perhaps the most peaceful place Ashe had ever visited in all her years of travel. And she's been to a lot of places, especially considering all the assignments the Order gave her.

"Well, I personally can't wait to see it. I've read so much about it, it seems like it would be quite an adventurous place to visit!" Ann admitted.

"So, Ashe," Jack continued casually. "How is it you've traveled so much? Marshall Industries kept you busy?"

"You have no idea," she said.

"Well, why did you quit? I mean, getting to see so many places must have been pretty amazing," Preston asked curiously. Ashe wondered to herself how he knew, but then again, Cunningham may have explained that she was just recently reinstated to the 'company'.

"It got old and rather tiresome after I while," she admitted quietly. "Just need a change of pace, I guess."

Ann smiled sincerely, "Well I'm glad you decided to help us with this situation."

Ashe returned the smile with gratitude. Ann was a unique sort of person, the sort you don't meet often in your life. She finished her stew, pushed the bowl forward and took a sip of some water Choy brought her seconds before.

"I'm just curious about one thing," Ashe announced. "Were you really there to just make a movie?"

Jack sighed in exasperation, "We didn't really know it was our destination until…well…the night we ended up there."

"We thought we were going to Singapore," Ann explained. "At least that's what we were told."

"Yeah….I figured as much. You people didn't strike me as crazy," she shot a glance to Lumpy. "Well…he did. But not suicidal crazy."

Lumpy gave her a bemused glare before returning to his work.

"There's a fine line between brilliance and insanity," a voice from the doorway spoke out. Eyes turned to look at Denham standing in the doorway. Baxter appeared behind him, entering the mess hall with a slight nod of acknowledgment before making his way towards the kitchen to get some dinner from Lumpy.

"A line you crossed by fifty miles or so, wouldn't ya think?" Ashe countered, her expression darkened.

"With the chance of discovery, the stakes are always high," he said in his defense. "I did what had to be done."

"Right, and if history has taught us anything, it's that men with that sort of idealism that always wind up with successful careers," she smirked. "Maximilien Robespierre. Atillia the Hun. Good choice in role models."

Denham stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, "You think the world would be what is today if people didn't take risks!?"

Ashe could see the director's temper was flaring by her little comment. His tone hadn't exactly risen, but she could see him tense up defensively. Yet she still held a calm, cool exterior. One thing she hadn't lost the knack of how to push the right buttons.

"Your idealism would seem almost admirable if it weren't such a load of bull," she declared smoothly. "You're not the kinda of person who's in it for the sake of the world! You're in it for yourself!"

The temperature in the room must have dropped to the negatives. A cold hush fell upon the room as Denham hesitated with a quick comeback. His eyes looked to Preston for support, who in return averted his gaze to the side, before looking to Baxter, whose reaction was identical. Jimmy simply glared coldly at him while Jack and Ann kept their backs turned to him. Seeing that the cavalry was not on his side calmly collected his composure, smoothing his hair before walking to the counter. He grabbed a bowl of stew already prepared by Lumpy.

Looking back to the other passengers, he sighed, "I suppose I'll just eat in my cabin. Good evening, everyone."

With that said, he turned and exited, his head still held high with what little dignity he could manage. Bruce took a seat at a nearby table, poking his spoon at the stew in an apparent attempt to make sure nothing was still alive and wriggling from within. An awkward silence hung in the air after Denham's departure. Finally Ashe looked to Preston.

"Has he…always been so…" she started to say, but she seemed to have difficulty in finding the right words. Preston just smiled.

"I'm afraid so," he confirmed simply. He knew what she meant, even if she didn't say it.

"I see," she nodded quietly.

Ann cleared her throat, "If you don't mind my asking, where exactly is Kong going to be staying in Africa?"

Ashe frowned, "Did Cunningham not give you the details?"

"Well, he gave a few," she answered. "But he was a little vague about the reserve, mostly because when we spoke he was rather busy so he didn't have time to really explain everything."

Sounds like Cunningham, she thought. That damn man was too vague for his own good. But it was in his nature more or less.

Sighing, Ashe rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. She had been given a thin file giving a description of their destination. It was hard not to memorize.

"Basically, it's not in Africa, at least not on the mainland. It's an island off the coast, called Mauritius. It is part of the Mascarene Islands, which is an archipelago formed about eight to ten million years ago. Given its environment and climate, it's a pretty close match to Skull Island. Well, more vegetation was added to the Reserve, but overall it's a pretty lush little island. Think…southern Florida….minus the tourists."

"How would know it's a good match? With Skull Island, I mean. I thought it was undiscovered," Jack interrupted, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Well, we judged the island's climate given its location," Ashe clarified. It wasn't entirely true, but hey….it's a white lie, not a big deal. "And given that Kong is a gorilla…albeit a large gorilla….it's natural to assume the climate would be similar if not identical to that which regular gorillas are accustomed to. I'm not exactly an expert on climatology, but Cunningham handpicked experts to decide which habitat would be better for Kong."

The writer didn't seem the least bit satisfied with her explanation. It was no doubt that both he and Ann had discussed the motives behind this little expedition, and more than likely if Ashe was to be trusted at all. And while Ann seemed content with her cover, Jack apparently was not.

"So, let me get this straight," he started. Ann opened her mouth to protest, but he continued regardless. "You're telling me that Cunningham is just doing this out of the kindness in his heart? What's the catch?"

Wish I knew, Ashe thought to herself. But all she could reply with was a simple shrug and sigh.

"All I can really tell ya," she stated, "is he's the sort of man who does things because the pure simple fact that he can. When you're that rich, you don't do rational things. And let's face it…rationality has very little to do with this expedition."

She would hardly bother defending Cunningham's motives. Personally, she was getting tired of explaining, so she returned to Ann and continued, "Anyways, Mauritius is roughly, seven hundred and eighty seven square miles. It has a relatively small population, and the reserve is well protected so poachers and other unwanted guests won't be an issue."

"How was Cunningham able to convince the people who run the reserve to take in the ape? Especially with such short notice?" Preston chimed in.

"Technically, it's his park," she explained. "The island has been under British rule since 1810, and Cunningham owns more than half of it."

From the looks of their faces, she could see they were surprised. Well, it was a little unfathomable for a single person to be that wealthy. However, according to the Peerage of Great Britain, Cunningham was officially given the title of Duke of Cornwall, Twenty-first Earl of Shrewsberry, Marquess of Needham and Dorby…and something else… Really, he was important by birth mostly. She couldn't give his exact titles, but then it really wasn't her concern. He was her employer.

"Look, I told you the man had too much money for his own good," Ashe sighed, taking out her cigarette pack from her pocket along with a match box. She lit up a smoke before taking a drag, letting the smoke exhale through her lips. "He has family and friends in high places. He's always had a love of animals. Think of Kong as his little "safe-a-life" project or something."

Ann had got up from her seat to get another glass of tea from Lumpy before returning to the table, "But I was under the impression that Cunningham was helping Kong at the request of Marshall Industries? Under their 'Environmental Protection Project' branch, or something of that sort?"

Ashe gave a light shrug, "He can say that all he wants, but it just gives him an excuse to help out."

She took another drag before Preston spoke again.

"Out of curiosity, Ashe," he began, "where are you from? I mean, I've lived in New York only a few years, but you don't really have the accent."

She laughed, "Yeah, I was hopin' a few years in the Bronx would remedy that, but I guess it takes more time. I was born in England, but I moved around a lot. I've spent a lot of time in the states. Most of that time was spent in the South. From Louisiana to Alabama, actually. "

True, technically her accent was more American if anything, despite her lineage. A hint of her ancestry sounded in her voice, but just barely. She had spent the majority of her time in the states either in the South or the West, so she didn't have the tough New Yorker tone just yet. If anything, her southern accent was more noticeable than anything. Particularly when she spoke too fast.

"Why did you move so much?" Jimmy asked.

Ashe paused a moment before answering, "Well, my folks died when I was little. I had family, but they were really distant relatives. And they were the travelling sort, so….you know."

It wasn't a lie…per say….But, it's not like she had a lot of practice when it comes to talking about her past…well, she never talks about her past for that matter. It just wasn't really a topic that commonly rose up in a conversation, at least not one of her choosing. And she had a feeling that this was conversation headed straight for memory lane, and that was a road she had absolutely no interest in visiting anytime soon. So, Ashe rose to her feet, giving a small feigned yawn.

"Afraid it's way past my bedtime," she insisted. "I'll see your bright, happy faces tomorrow."

She gave a small nod of acknowledgement to Lumpy and Choy as she exited, who returned the gesture as she disappeared down the hall.

"Well, I still don't know if I trust her," Jack declared. No one had spoken until the sound of Ashe's small footsteps faded down the hallway. "She's vague, like Cunningham. Like she's hiding something."

"Of course she's hiding something!" Bruce spoke up. Eyes turned to him and he shrugged, "I mean…c'mon…like it's not obvious!"

No one spoke after that for a while, not even the few sailors sitting at the back tables. It was an uneasy silence, hanging in the air only broken occasionally from the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen as Lumpy and Choy started to clean up. The anxiety of this voyage was thick in the atmosphere aboard the ship, like the fog surrounding Skull Island.

"Just out of curiosity," wondered Preston aloud. "I don't suppose anyone has ever heard of Marshall Industries? I mean…like from the newspapers or something?"

"Not me," Jimmy said. Both Ann and Jack shook their heads.

"I have," a gruff voice spoke out from the galley. Everyone looked to Lumpy, who leaned against the counter with a cigarette between his lips. To say their very faces screamed disbelief would have been an understatement. But the cook continued casually.

"It was started back in London," he explained. "I was still a lad, but I remember it. Started by members of the privileged, upper class sort. You know, the fancy, more well-to-do folk-"

"Like Cunningham," Jack interrupted.

Lumpy gave a quick nod, "Yeah, he's the sort. He built it up a few years back with the help of friends in high places."

"What for?" Ann spoke up.

The cook gave a light shrug, "Dunno exactly. Something to do with science or some such nonsense. Load of bollucks, if you ask me."

"How so?" Preston pressed.

Lumpy was quiet for a few seconds, taking what remained of his cigarette and licking his lips before sighing, "It's too secretive to be a blimy science project. My guess…somethin' more along the lines of espionage and warfare. I knew a bloke, once, back in England. Said he knew a man who had a brother working for Marshall Industries. Never really said exactly what his brother did, but whatever it was…"

He left his words hanging, literally leaving those in the galley in suspense. Finally, a small chuckle rose amidst the silence. All eyes fell upon Bruce Baxter who had finished his dinner.

"Oh please!" he scoffed. "You knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy?! That's an urban myth!"

While Lumpy's cryptic explanation was troubling, Bruce's claim was fairly believable. It was logical, more or less, to perceive the cook's suspicious as simple paranoia or exaggeration. It wasn't a particularly large leap to come to the conclusion. It was he, after all, who claimed to believe in the mythical "Abominable Snowman" all those months ago on Skull Island. Jack recalled that exact moment when they were searching for Ann Darrow, and came across Kong's trail. He damned near had everyone convinced he knew what took her…too bad it was a let-down.

Most would mistake him as the sarcastic, albeit rough-and-tumble individual, but Lumpy was a man who believed in a great many things most people would discard as superstitious ideology. Regardless, there were few men with his sort of blunt honesty and general sense of virtue. Well…maybe virtue was a stretch. He was a sailor, not a saint. However, he was the sort of man one would want on their side when push came to shove.

The few men who were once in the back of the galley had left the room to return to their bunks for the night. All that remained were just Ann, Jack, Preston, Jimmy, Bruce, Lumpy, and of course, Choy. And not a single one of them spoke for quite a while. The distant sounds of the engines hummed in the background, as the cook returned to help clean up the kitchen with the oriental sailor.

Finally, Ann turned to Jack.

"Now I don't know what to think of this 'company' or people like Cunningham," she said, her tone filled with certainty. "But…I know Ashe can be trusted."

Jack sighed heavily then opened his mouth to speak, but the actress cut him off, "Wait! Hear me out! I know this whole trip makes you feel uneasy. I'm a little nervous, too. The important thing is we get Kong somewhere safe."

She could see he was not going to be convinced by talk, even if it came from her. Jack sighed, giving her a light peck on the cheek before getting to his feet.

"Look," he groaned. "I just need to get some sleep. I'll be in our cabin."

He looked at Ann, who stared back concerned. He hesitated a moment before his expression softened, realizing he was taking his frustration out on her. And honestly, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He wasn't lying exactly. It was true that he hadn't been sleeping well, but the recollection of their last voyage on this ship was hardly reassuring.

He gave a short nod of farewell to everyone before leaving the galley and making his return to the cabin both he and Ann shared. The walk had helped him relax from the rather tense dinner. He wasn't even sure why he was so agitated. So many things weighed heavily on his mind. Oddly enough, the gigantic ape wasn't really on the top of the list, even if he was the very catalyst for this whole situation.

"Are you always so uptight? Or is that a characteristic of playwrights?" a voice sounded from behind, startling him. He turned, and saw Ashe looking out her own door. He had forgotten that her cabin was so near to theirs, but then again, she was rarely seen thus far so he couldn't help but let it slip his mind.

"Christ!" he muttered, his heart skipping a beat. He was so lost in thought that the sound of pen drop would have given him a heart attack.

"Jumpy, much?" she smirked.

Jack had a bemused expression, "I don't like being snuck up on."

She quirked a brow, "Who said I was sneaking? My door was open, I stepped out. What's eating you?"

The writer's eyes narrowed at her and he stepped forward, "Look, no offense or anything, but I don't like being lied to."

She leaned against the frame, her arms folded across her chest.

"Truth is subjective," she pointed out immediately. "It's all about perception. As a writer, you should know that."

He didn't have a remark to shoot back at her, but she didn't wait around for him to think of one. Stepping back into her room, she closed the door. He stood in the hallway, a little perplexed by her comment. It wasn't exactly a confession of deceit, but it wasn't a denial either. In irritation he turned and continued down the hall to the cabin.

Ann remained in the galley with the others as she watched Jack leave. She was concerned about him, to say the least. He wasn't angry with her, she could see that. He was the sort of man who didn't take his anger out instantly, but instead let it build. And the frustration from the enigma involving this whole trip and those who funded it was hardly helping.

"Ann," Preston tried to reassure her. He could see the worry in her eyes. She looked up at him.

"Everything will turn out okay," he consoled. "You should go get some sleep."

She gave a small smile of gratitude for his attempt of encouragement as she stood up and departed from the room. Jimmy watched as she left then looked to Denham's former assistance with curiosity.

"Did you really mean that?" he asked. "I mean, about the whole 'everything will be okay' thing?"

Preston looked down, exhaling deeply, "I don't know. But it can't hurt to have some faith."

With that said, he rose to his feet and left to get some sleep as well. Within moments, Bruce had also departed to retire for the night. Jimmy looked to Lumpy.

"I trust her," he said confidently. "Ashe, I mean."

The cook glanced back at the boy before returning to his work, but he spoke anyways, "That's surprising. Mr. Hayes normally has his hands full makin' you play nice."

Jimmy couldn't help but smile, knowing that was rather true. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so compelled to trust Ashe. It was like…well…he wasn't sure.

"Why don't you like her?" he questioned the cook.

"I never said I didn't like her," Lumpy answered truthfully, storing what few dishes remained away. "Just don't know about this whole mess in general. But, a job's a job."

The boy could see that he was honest. He was a brawny, weathered sailor who had lived through a lot of hard years at sea. He'd been practically everywhere and anywhere known to man. He wasn't the sort to get frightened easily. Jimmy didn't know much of the ship's cook. Well, he was more than the cook, really. He was the ship's barber, dentist, veterinarian, as well as the chief medical officer. A jack-of-all trades if there ever was one.

Sure, a hardened seaman like Lumpy could get a job on any ship of his choosing. Perhaps not a first-class ocean liner, but any tramp steamer would be lucky to have his expertise. But he wouldn't leave the S.S. Venture for anything. He had become too attached to the ship, ever since his arrival with Mr. Hayes. And his loyalty to the Captain was steadfast, which is one of the main reasons he probably has not protested this voyage. He had come to respect the majority of decisions from Englehorn. And if he was willing to take on this job, Lumpy would stand by his orders one hundred percent.

"Jimmy," he said finally. "You look beat. Best get to bed, boy. There'll be work to be done come dawn."

The boy rose from the table, obeying the cook's wishes. He was rather tired, and he had to be up by the time the sun rose to get to work. Mr. Hayes was strict with him when it came to his duties. Then again, it was the only way he could really earn his own keep. From the day he wandered onto the ship those few years ago, Jimmy had always spent each passing day trying to prove he was worth keeping onboard. And with the discipline of someone like Hayes, he found that he himself was turning into a man. He hated being called a kid, so it was his responsibility to show everyone that he was more than just some good-for-nothing runaway.

When he had disappeared out the door, Lumpy started dousing the lights as both he and Choy had finished the kitchen completely. It wasn't sparkling clean, by any means. But the food had been stored, the dishes cleaned, and everything wiped down. The time was coming for a much-needed rest.

"I agree with boy," Choy admitted. "Ashe not bad."

Lumpy gave a short grunt, not necessarily in agreement or not. Finally, both he and Choy were left the galley down the hall towards the larger rooms where the sailors usually bunked together.

"Yeah, and her looks ain't got nothin' to do with you likin' her," he accused contemptuously.

"She got thing for me," the Chinese man smiled. "I can tell!"

Lumpy released a hearty laugh, "Mate, there is no way in this life or the next that that woman would ever feel the least bit attracted to you."

Choy merely smiled in denial, "You just jealous."

Lumpy couldn't really say anything to his little friend. Nothing in the world would ever reign on his parade, no matter how bad things got. He was still the most upbeat sailor the cook had ever come across in all his years at sea. But honestly, he wouldn't have his best friend any other way.

Ashe was sitting on her bed once again. The anxiety running through her system was preventing her from drifting off to sleep. Her sketchbook sat in her lap as she continued drawing, mostly now resorting to gesture drawings to let out her frustration. Normally, she was a perfectionist when it came to detailing sketches. The charcoal was held tightly in her right hand, smudges covering both her palms and parts of her face. But she didn't care, honestly. Hell, she had looked worse.

Pausing for a moment, Ashe set aside the sketchbook, leaning back in the bed. She was in no mood to sleep. Something had been eating at the back of her mind for days, ever since she received that dreaded phone call from Cunningham. She was tempted to light up another cigarette, but she knew with her luck, she'd be out of them in three days. Not that she didn't stock up for the trip, for heaven's sake. She was smarter than that! Still, with her stress levels going through the roof, she had to be careful not to waste them before they reached their destination.

Releasing a heavy sigh, she rose from her bed, leaving her room and making her way to the deck. She needed some fresh air, after all. She walked towards the bow of the ship, standing at the very edge of the railing as the Venture pierced the dark sea. The waves were calmer than she expected. A faint breeze carried the smell of the salty water through the air, which Ashe couldn't help but find soothing.

She stepped forward, perched on the railing overlooking the murky water as it was parted by the hull. For how many minutes she stood on the railing, she couldn't recall for she had lost all track of time as she stared into the seemingly bottomless abyss below. Part of her couldn't help but muse how easy it would be to be lost in the black depths, to forget the problems consuming the turbulent world above. The sea had to the most strange, calming effect on her and it was difficult to explain.

Closing her eyes, Ashe listened to the roaring engines and the crushing waves while she inhaled the salty air. Moments passed by but she remained still.

"Thinking of jumping ship?" a cool, familiar voice sounded from behind, nearly making her jump. She jerked her head around and saw the Captain staring at her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat.

"Tempting thought," she smiled. "But the water's too cold for my taste."

It was an honest enough reply. She was in no mood to feel the icy waters of the Atlantic in the middle of winter.

"Funny," Englehorn stepped forward. "You didn't strike me as the suicidal, Miss Ashe."

Giving a small shrug, "Only in the mornings. And it's just Ashe."

"Right…Ashe…" he repeated, leaning against the rail as he removed his hat for a brief moment, simply to run his fingers through his hair. It took him a few seconds of awkward silence to notice the woman gazing at him intently, as if studying him. One of his brows rose inquisitively.

"Something the matter?" he asked, placing the cap back on his head.

"Do you always wear the hat?" she questioned bluntly as she stepped down from the railing. She was never the sort of woman to mince words.

The Captain chuckled at her rather candid character, "Why?"

Ashe shrugged lightly, folding her arms across her chest, "Just curious. You seem to never be seen without it."

"Is it a habit of yours to speak impulsively?" Englehorn stared out at the sea as he wondered aloud. Perhaps it was a rhetorical question, she couldn't be sure. Staring out in the same direction she smiled.

"It's a mannerism I've rather perfected over the years," she answered frankly, leaning back on the rails.

In place of the chirping of crickets, which was the normal background melody during the periods of awkward silence, was the immense roar of the waves crushing against the bow as neither Ashe nor the Captain spoke. Finally, Ashe decided to take the initiative and cleared her throat. She had something which had been pestering her mind more than she'd begun to realize. And she was just now getting to the bottom of it.

"Earlier," she began carefully, as if attempting to choose her words carefully, "when you were notified that I was to come along….you seemed displeased, to say the least. Might I ask why, exactly?"

The Captain stared carefully, he himself having realized that he may have reacted with a few ounces of hostility. Even so, he had a feeling that even if he were to conceal such discontent, someone with such keen observational skills would have little difficulty to detect it.

"My apologies for my manners…or lack of," he started. "It's just that I don't care for unexpected changes aboard my ship. I like plans laid out beforehand."

Considering how his last voyage resulted, Ashe found that it was a decently believable. She waited for him to continue speaking, in the slightest hope he might elaborate. But then again, some things are better left unsaid. She could respect that. Hell, it's not like she was all that chatty about her own thoughts.

"Well…whatever the case may be," Ashe said finally. "Thanks, I guess."

The Captain's brows furrowed with confusion.

"I mean with…agreeing to all this," she explained. "You know…the whole 'transporting the giant ape' thing. Especially given the circumstances."

"In all honesty…I'd rather prefer to wash my hands of this whole mess."

A small smile grew on her lips, "I suppose I'd start to doubt your sanity if it were any other way."

Following a few seconds of strained silence, Ashe began walking back inside. She wasn't less sleepy than before her little stroll, but something about the Captain's presence made her uneasy, somehow less confident in her actions or thoughts. It was…difficult to understand, let alone try to explain to herself. Perhaps it was all in her head. Maybe she had been on sabbatical a little too long. Her nerves seemed to fail her, not necessarily physically as much as mentally.

As she walked away, she had a feeling that Englehorn's gaze was still locked on her. That thought deterred her from looking back, though why she was not sure.