By the time they actually make it to Shipwreck cove, Emily is torn between being excited that she may get to see Alex – and so much dreading getting to see him that she hopes he'll be gone. It's entirely possible that he will be. Her goddess had sent her visions of him on and off, visions that suggested he'd found a place on another ship and was off finding his own trouble. (In fact, it was the trouble the visions hinted at him finding that had her half hoping not to see him.)
She wishes this wasn't necessary, that she hadn't been so careless. To be fair, she'd had no real reason to think The Admiral would have had any interest in her beyond her kidnapping as child. As far as she had known, his only interest in her then had been to use her to get to her parents. Still, with his name being thrown around from the very beginning as it had been, perhaps she should have…
"Stop." Jo says from somewhere just next to her, startling Emily out of her reverie. They are on the deck of the Queen, where Emily had been staring absently out to see for the past several minutes.
"Stop." She turns to the older woman with a blank face. "Stop what?"
"Thinking. You do too much of it. I know you've been going over it all non-stop since you finally agreed to come here."
Emily scowls now. "I can't stop thinking about it. I have to find a way out of this mess somehow."
"You will." Jo replies, as though she has no reason to even half think otherwise.
"Not sure I deserve such confidence, but thanks I suppose." Sighing, Emily turns to head off the ship. "I suppose I'd better go see about having a talk with Captain Teague, then."
"Oh. About that." Jo stops her, a little too offhandedly.
Emily turns back to her warily. "Yes?"
"I may have taken the liberty of sending a short letter when last we made port. It may not count for much, seeing as Alex could very well be long gone by now. But if he's here or has been here, Teague already knows about our – situation. Probably."
Emily pauses, letting that sink in. "Jo." She says slowly after a moment. "We haven't made port since just before I agreed to come here."
Jo looks appropriately sheepish. "I knew you would agree, eventually. Also figured you'd avoid any contact with Alex, but we may need someone to plead our case."
Emily huffs. "Why is it you're the only person on this ship who insists on treating me like I'm still a stubborn child?"
"Because you insist on occasionally still acting as one." Jo retorts. "And if I don't say something no one will."
Emily scowls before turning to head off anyway.
"You can rest easy, Captain, if this Admiral knows of Shipwreck I can near promise he wouldn't dare come here." Teague gestures for her to have a seat. He's already seated, strumming a guitar almost absently. "Please."
Emily takes a breath to calm herself some as she sits. "So then, you'll allow us to stay? It won't be for very long. It's just I have my brother with me now. If I were to be caught… well."
"Aye, aye, you can stay. Alex already explained it all." He waves her off. He's still strumming away on the guitar, seeming to give her only half his attention, but she isn't fooled any more than she would be with Alex. "He's here, you know."
"But I thought – that is, I figured he'd have found another ship to take him on by now. I certainly didn't figure he'd be here." She really is rather surprised. Why would he have come back?
"Well, he did at that. The ship was one of mine, makes berth here in Shipwreck. It was just luck, I suppose, he happened to be here when that letter arrived."
Luck. Emily doesn't believe in plain luck anymore. She sends her goddess a silent thank you…and takes a moment to wonder at the fact that Teague apparently has more than one ship at his command. "Yes, yes, very lucky." She replies out loud. "May I ask – has he spoken of me?"
"He has." Now he glances up at her. Just like last time she talked to him, he seems to be implying something, as though he can tell something she can't.
She hopes he'll elaborate – but he doesn't. Sighing softly, she stands. "Thank you, sir. I'll leave you in peace then." She turns to leave.
"Captain Turner." He calls, and the guitar stops. She turns back to him, a little wary. He eyes her for a moment, in a way that unnerves her more than a little. "You're brother. If it's a safe place to stay you'll be needing for him, there ought to be few places safer than here. I've a maid with boys of her own who gets lonely now they're off on their own, she'd be only too happy to look after another for a time."
That was – unexpected. Why would he make such an offer? She bites her tongue to keep herself from asking. She needs options more than anything right now, especially when it comes to Joshy. Her main concern now is for him, always for him. "Thank you again, sir." She nods, and then makes her escape.
"Permission to come aboard, captain?" That voice – all too familiar, though she hasn't heard it in ages. It stops her in her tracks, freezing her right where she is as her heart skips a beat.
She's only just boarded the queen herself. It's not as though she hadn't been waiting for this. She'd even convinced herself she was ready for it, had thoroughly prepared for it. She'd stayed on the ship the night before, going through the trouble of drawing herself a bath. She'd braided her hair nice and neat that morning, tying it back in a bandana that matches the color of her shirt, which is the tunic he'd bought her, the nicest of the three she now owns. She even has the pistol she'd stolen from that jail guard some months ago – a newer and somewhat fancier model than her original one – tucked in her belt just for show. Taking a breath, she forces her limbs to get moving again, straightening as she turns back to face the docks. She is Captain Turner. Peg Leg Turner. She'd spent the last several months taking the Caribbean by storm. Her name alone is enough to have honest sailors start to worrying at the very least, if she'd done her job well enough. Alex Sparrow is just a boy. Nothing she can't handle.
So, then, why is her heart trying to pound its way right out of her chest?
"Alex Sparrow." She says when she spies him. He is standing on the docks, just before the gang plank, and giving her a grin. Not his trouble grin at this point, just a plain, happy grin, if a somewhat hesitant one. Which helps her relax some. He certainly seems happy to see her. "Since when do you have to ask to board my ship?" She responds playfully.
The grin widens a bit as he strolls up the gangplank, and she takes a moment to get a good look at him. He's – grown. Not taller; he has enough height to him already. But he's not quite as wiry as he was. His shoulders have grown broader, she thinks… not that she has any particular reason to care about any of this.
He sweeps across the deck once he reaches it, with just the hint of a swagger in his step. Before she can register that the grin has become decidedly more troublemaker, he's already sweeping her into strong arms – and yes, he's definitely grown stronger, do boys ever stop doing that? she wonders. He scoops her up effortlessly and spins her around once before, to her utter shock, placing a kiss right on her lips, in front of all her crew, as if they were some kind of lovers and hadn't been apart for more than a year to boot.
He smells of the sea and, faintly, of rum. His lips taste faintly of the spicy liquid, as well. He is smart, pulling away long before she can start to over think things (as she is, according to Jo, won't to do) and she feels a deep blush creep up to color her cheeks as her crew cheers and laughs. "Miss me, dearie?" He has the nerve to ask as she stands speechless for a moment.
She has half a mind to slap him, but ultimately decides on a different approach. Slipping an arm up around his neck, she pulls him forward so their lips clash again. This kiss doesn't last long either; she pulls away and mimics his grin from earlier. "Mmm, well I certainly missed that, if nothing else. Nice to see you too, Sparrow."
Louder cheers erupt from her crew. She turns to address them with a half-smile still on her lips. "Alright you lot, back to work, it's nearing sundown and I want those repairs finished by tomorrow!"
Alex doesn't skip a beat, wrapping an arm around her waist. "And ye're comin with me."
"Oh, am I? You know, I do have a ship to run here." But she's not really protesting, and he's already leading her back off the ship.
"I 'aven't 'ad the pleasure of ye're company in far too long for ye to get off that easily, Captain Turner." The way he says it, playful, almost mocking. She scowls. He glances at her, raising his eyebrows. "Or would ye prefer Emily? Or what was it Jo's gone to callin ye, Peg?"
"I'm almost quicker to answer to the first or the third, now. I really am a captain, you know. Or were you always half convinced that was some sort of joke somehow?"
His tone becomes marginally more serious. "Oh no, the more I 'ear of ye, the more I've worried 'bout just how real 'tis."
Emily doesn't quite know how to respond to that, so they walk in silence to one of Shipwreck's few small taverns. He sits her down off in a quiet corner. "How about a drink?"
She first thinks to ask for her usual hot mixture of watered ale and honey, but then she remembers the rum she'd smelled and tasted on him. "I think I'm in the mood for something a might stronger." She replies airily, on that same strange impulse that sometimes takes over her. "I think rum would do the trick nicely." She gets exactly the reaction she was hoping for. He looks surprised, not for too long, but she notices and smirks a bit. "Problem?"
The look fades just as quickly as it had come. "None at all, dearie. Rum it is, then." And he slips off to fetch their drinks.
'Dearie', she notes it is now. Not 'love'. Dearie. This bothers her, though she refuses to dwell on why. Alex comes back moments later, two full mugs in his hands. He hands one to her before he sits and drinks from his, looking as though this is an entirely normal thing. Except it really isn't, and she catches him eyeing her over top of his mug with brows furrowed ever so slightly, trying to figure her out. Wanting to keep him guessing, if for no other reason than because he seems to want to play with her now, she drinks as well, and even manages to hold back a grimace as the firewater burns its way down her throat. Entirely normal.
"So, are ye going to tell me what is going on, or must I go drag a more thorough explanation out of Jo?"
"There isn't too much to tell, I'm afraid, I'm not entirely sure what's happening here myself." Emily stares down at her mug.
"Jo's letter suggested they'd caught ye." He pries.
"Aye, they did. Not for very long…" She trails off and takes another small sip from her mug, stalling. "This ship – it was huge. Easily as big as the Revenge had been. I gave myself up to them. They promised not to fire at the Queen and said they only wanted to talk, and of course I hardly trusted them, but I couldn't exactly say no either. They took me down to the brig."
"And?" Alex pries again, but a little more gently.
"A man came to question me. I don't know who he was. But he asked me all sorts of strange things, none of which I had answers to. He didn't immediately believe that, and, well…" She really doesn't want to explain all of this. She hadn't done so for anyone other than Jo. She takes another, heartier sip of her rum, and notes that the taste becomes somewhat more bearable the more she drinks.
"I'm sorry." Alex says. "I shouldn't've asked. Really, I just wanted to know how ye managed to get away."
Now Emily giggles softly. "What is that story of Uncle's? Sea turtles?"
Alex breaks into his own grin. "Ah."
"What about you, then?" She asks, leaning forward on the table. "Goddess knows you must have some things to tell me with all the trouble that seems to follow you around."
They stay like that for what could be hours, just – talking. As though they'd never had a fight like the one they'd had and had never been apart at all. Except they had. And it's left a strange sort of awkwardness that Emily can't quite shake. She'd missed him so much it had hurt at times, and had gone over what she'd say to him once she saw him again perhaps a hundred times over. But in all that time she hadn't accounted for him being quite so – different. The display he'd put on earlier, the way he's avoiding the word 'love'. The way he's flirting with her. The fact that he's rather freely enjoying his rum – and seems to be keeping a close eye on her as if trying to confirm the rumors he's heard of her.
She flirts right back shamelessly and drinks just as freely. Because if he could simply pretend they hadn't fought like they had, then she certainly could too, and she is just as much a pirate as him. If he's looking for her to say to sorry or anything silly like that he'll be sorely disappointed. Somewhere along the line it becomes some strange sort of competition, as though each suspects the other is putting on a bit of an act, and each are trying to see how far the other is willing to take it.
Emily starts to sort of enjoy this little game sometime after she makes it halfway through her second mug of rum. She'd been so tense the past days, worried about all that was beginning to happen; could anyone blame her for stopping to have some fun, anyway?
…
To be fair, Joshy was supposed to be with Jo for the night. Emily had wanted to keep him out from underfoot with the work being done on her ship. And the ship itself was supposed to be empty, as she'd given all her men leave as soon as the ship was squared away. In fact, it was empty as near as she could tell when she slipped aboard with Alex sometime later that night. Although, frankly, neither of them were paying attention to anything but each other at that point. He was only supposed to walk her to her cabin, though.
Emily would later, of course, vehemently deny being drunk. But she was. And so was Alex. And neither of them cared. So of course, he didn't leave her as he should have.
Because she pulls him into the room with her and stumbles a bit and ends up in his arms, looking up at him. "Alex Sparrow." She murmurs – breathes – slurs – perhaps it is some combination of all of those.
"Yes, Captain Turner?" He asks. He doesn't seem hesitant. Doesn't suggest that he should leave. In fact, he pulls her closer, and he's staring rather pointedly at her lips.
"I-I missed you." She can hear her words blurring together. She should tell him to leave – why should she tell him to leave? She can't remember any of the good reasons she would've, probably, had.
A smile tugs his lips upwards. "Did you, now?"
"Goddess, yes." She steals a glance down at his lips. "Missed you and you're kisses. Didn't get nearly enough of those, you know."
The smile turns to a smirk. "I agree." He brings a hand up and his touch is feather light as he brushes a stray strand of her dark curls back behind her ear. "I believe this error should be – rectified forthwith." He says grandly, but his words are slurred too, and she giggles until his lips cover her own…
And she wishes more than anything that that particular dream she'd had would come true now. And for a wonderful, wonderful moment, it looks as though it just might. He backs her up towards her bed as his hands fiddle with the belt at her waist, taking it off and throwing her affects aside carelessly as she does the same with his. And then his vest is gone. Her corset takes a bit more effort, but it comes off too eventually. And then he unties her bandana and discards it before pausing just long enough to let her hair loose so he can run his hands through it. And he hasn't stopped her and she pulls him in for more hungry kissing. In fact, he seems rather intent on making sure they keep going. So intent, in fact, that he reaches for the nearest pistol and aims it at Emily's door when it opens.
Knowing it's most probably Jo – no one else would just walk right into Emily's cabin like that – Emily doesn't even bother turning towards the door. "Not. Now." She breathes as Alex carries on, trailing kiss along her jawline and down her neck and along her shoulder as he brushes her shirt back…
"Emmy?" A young voice asks, quiet and hesitant, startling both of them. Alex pulls away, brows furrowing in confusion as he turns the door – and lowers the pistol, obviously startled.
"Joshy." Emily takes a few regretful steps away from Alex and tries to pretend she is perfectly alright even as the room seems to spin a bit without Alex's strong arms to steady her. "What – what are you doing… you should be in bed."
Joshy opens his mouth but seems a little speechless as he stares at Alex with that same hard look he'd given her the first time he'd seen her again. Footsteps echo down the hallway behind him and then Jo too appears in the door way. "I'm sorry, Peg, he woke up an awful mess, crying out in his sleep, and…" She trails off as realization dawns on her face, looking between Emily and Alex. "Well."
Emily runs a hand through her dark waves, vaguely worrying about what a mess she and Alex both must look. She supposes she should be more embarrassed. Really, she can't bring herself to feel anything more than annoyed that she'd just come so close…
"I'm sorry, Emmy." Joshy says. "I had a bad dream. It was mum and the fish people again." He's still eyeing Alex, who has both eyebrows raised at the younger boy as if just daring him to make the wrong comment. "I'll just… go back with Ms. Gibbs. If you want." But he doesn't really sound or look like he intends to go anywhere.
Jo has that eyebrow of hers raised as she eyes Emily knowingly. "Perhaps that would be best, dear. I can sing to you tonight."
Those big green eyes… Emily can't send him away. She just can't. "No, no, that's alright." She tries to sound a little more coherent. "If you could just give me – us – a moment."
Jo seems to be some combination of amused and annoyed. She shoos Joshy away and turns to narrow her eyes at Emily. "You could've come and warned me."
"It wasn't – I didn't think we'd…"
She only rolls her eyes. "Next time just tell me you'll be off with Alex. Heaven knows that's all you'd have to say." And with that she makes her exit.
Emily turns to lean in to Alex again, resting her head on his chest. "How I'll ever explain this to him is beyond me."
Alex gently pulls her chin up to kiss her again, and she forces herself to pull away. He scowls. "Well, what's it 'e wanted, for ye to sing to 'im? Why don't ye sing to 'im an' then send 'im away again."
"Cause. Sounds too much like something my papa would've tried." She picks his things up off the floor and shoves them at him with a pointed look. "Good night."
He pouts a moment, but she refuses to give in, so he begins redressing himself. She only tucks her shirt back in and makes a sluggish trek around the cabin, picking up her things and shoving them aside carelessly. "I'll see you tomorrow?" She asks, perhaps a bit more hopeful than she means to, but she can't help it.
"'Course." He replies. "Have to meet yer brother proper some time, won't I?" He gives her a bit of a grin again, pulling her forward to plant his lips on hers one last time. "And I do intend to finish this." There is a bit of a growl to his voice this time, and it's almost enough to make her want to forget about Joshy and get lost in Alex again. But he pulls away this time and heads out and she plops herself onto her bed with a long suffering sigh.
To her surprise – and immense relief – Joshy doesn't ask questions. He just comes in, sits next to her so she can run her hand through his hair soothingly as she sings to him, which she manages to do fairly well considering. Then he scuttles off to his hammock with a yawn. She doesn't know if he falls asleep again or not – she collapses into bed just as she is, pausing only to take off her leg brace, and is dead asleep just as soon as her head hits the pillow.
If she'd been thinking a bit more clearly she would've noticed how preoccupied her brother seemed.
She sleeps like the dead, but her mind never stops. Her dreams are confusing and fuzzy. First it's just a memory, the first time she'd ever caught her father with Jade in his arms. The comparison tries to make itself with what had just happened with Joshy, but she refuses to let it. She isn't already married, which makes all the difference, never mind anything else. At least, that's what she tells herself.
Then she dreams of her mother. She dreams of actually seeing her mother; of pouring rain and a small spit of land that barely qualifies as an island, and a sword fight in the wet sands. No actual words are exchanged, but above all else Emily swears she hears an all too familiar rhythm being pumped; thump thump, thump thump.
Then it's her father again. Her father – her father and Alex. Standing on the deck of the Queen, swords drawn. About to fight each other, but why on earth would they? This is the most confusing of them all, until she watches herself stumble up the steps from below wearing only a shirt and trousers, the shirt untucked and her hair falling freely about her shoulders, a frightened expression on her face. Her father… challenging Alex? To what, defend Emily's honor? Oh. Oh, no. That could be bad.
That one only lasts long enough for her to watch their swords clash once; everything else falls away and then she is on a vaguely familiar island. Her goddess' presence surrounds her, expressing a mixture of exasperation and amusement at Emily's current state. The island is just as pleasant as she remembers; the moon shines down bright, and a small fire cancels out any nightly chill. She half expects her head to clear the same as the pain in her leg had been taken away the first time she'd been here. Her goddess, though, is apparently not going to let her off that easy. She remains quite drunk. Sitting herself down in the sand next to the fire, she lays back and stares up at the moon and thinks of Alex and imagines a world where everything didn't always have to be so difficult.
…
She apparently dozes off for a short time , because when Calypso's presence grows strong enough to suggest she's decided to join Emily, Emily's eyes are closed.
"Well." Her goddess says, expectant, when Emily doesn't immediately acknowledge her.
Sighing softly, Emily opens her eyes, sits, and then stands – perhaps a little too quickly. She wobbles and then stumbles back a step drunkenly before managing to steady herself and attempting her usual dress-less curtsy. "My goddess."
Her goddess scoffs. "Sit, child."
Emily doesn't need to be told twice. She plops herself back down in the sand, her goddess joining her a bit more gracefully. "What am I apologizing for, then?" Emily asks. "Alex or the rum?"
"Which one are yeh sorry for?"
"Neither. At the moment. But if it'll get me sent back to bed in my cabin…"
"Dere is no need to apologize for loving de boy, and I tink yeh will find yeh are more dan sorry enough for de rum come mornin."
"Loving… Alex?" Emily's eyes widen. "But I – he's – I don't…"
Her goddess waves her off. "Dat is a discussion for anot'er time. I brought yeh here tonight to tell yeh that yeh cannot stay in Shipwreck."
Emily tries to think past her goddess' earlier statement. "Alright. Why?"
"Six months yeh have."
Six months. Six months – until what? Six, six, six… She'll turn nineteen in that time, and then… oh. Oh! "Mother. Her one day."
"I have a task for you, one yeh must complete before den. And I intend for yeh to have Alex with yeh while yeh do."
"Task? What task? And why does…"
"Hush, young one, and listen. The Admiral will have an eye on yeh now. Yeh must show him dat yeh are worth his attention."
"What? My goddess – with all respect, my little Queen is no match for his ships. His attentions will be gained easy enough, but what do I do then?"
Her goddess gives her a harder look. "Do not forget, Emily Turneh, I control de seas, not him. Yeh will only be worth his attentions because I wish for yeh to be."
"Right. Forgive me my goddess." Emily turns to stare down at her hands sheepishly. "I just – I don't understand. And what does this have to do with my mother?"
"Yeh're going to need her help."
"She wouldn't help me even if I asked."
"She may. But yeh'll need yeh father's help to convince her. Yeh made a promise, and if yeh plan to keep it, now is de time."
"But my mother hates my father, how can he –"
"Dat, yeh leave to me."
Emily wants to ask some more, but she's pushing her luck as is, and she knows it. "Yes, my goddess." She can't quite keep the exasperation out of her voice though. "How long can I stay at Shipwreck, then?"
"As long as it takes to ensure Alex will be with yeh when yeh leave."
"Oh, that. I wouldn't have it any other way."
…
She sleeps so soundly after that, she very nearly misses her brother slipping out quietly the next morning. She wakes to the feeling that someone is trying to pound a nail into her skull – and the sound of her sword being stolen.
"Joshy?" Her brows furrow when she sees his empty hammock. "Joshy." She shoots into a sitting position, eyes wide as they sweep the room and finally land on him. "What…" He's frozen next to the desk that she'd placed her things on the night before, her sword held in his hands. Her pistol sits at his feet where it had apparently just fallen, waking her up. "…do you think you're doing?"
He stutters. "I was just – I was going – to practice."
She blinks at him. "You're really rather rubbish at lying, and I hope you know you don't have to with me."
He looks down. "I'm sorry I woke you." Shaking his head, he places the sword back on the desk carefully before retrieving the pistol and replacing it as well. He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but nothing comes out, and his feet start moving before she can say anything herself.
"Wait! Joshy!" Heaving a frustrated sigh, Emily hastily begins attaching her leg brace, attempting to jog out after him even as she's still trying to buckle the straps. She makes it out on deck to find he's already stopped half way to the gangplank.
He rounds on her with a fierce expression, fists clenched. "Who was he? Last night?"
"A – friend."
"You shouldn't lie to me either, you know!"
He's shouting and the sun shines down bright as ever, and she decides in that moment she'll never let another drop of rum pass her lips again. With her head pounding so she feels as though she may be sick. She takes a breath and tries to force herself to be calm. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's not the whole truth."
"So what is the whole truth?" He demands.
"Complicated." She snaps back. "What makes you think it's your business?"
Now he looks almost hurt. "You're my sister. And he had you – you were drunk."
This only makes her angry, to a degree that is somewhat irrational. "As was he, it makes no difference, and how would you even know what we were…"
"I don't have to know to know it wasn't – you shouldn't've – sometimes I think mummy was right about you. Times like last night. But you don't get drunk, I've never seen you..."
Realization takes a moment to dawn on her, and she can still hardly believe it when it does. "You – you think last night was Alex's doing. His fault. What were you doing with my sword? What did you think you were going to do? Defend my honor as if I'm some fine lady?" She remembers, vaguely, the dream she'd had of her father, and her frustration at the stupidity of it grows. She doesn't deserve such fine treatment.
He looks down. "Someone should. Your my sister."
"And Alex would beat your arse into the dirt if you tried." She replies, harshly enough that he looks up, startled. "I'd rather you think your mother was right. Whatever she said is probably far closer to the truth than whatever has you thinking I'm worth some foolish duel."
Shaking his head, Joshy apparently has nothing more to say. Spinning around, he darts across the deck – and nearly runs into Alex as the older boy just makes it up on deck.
"Whoa. 'Ello again." Alex says. "Joshy, was it?"
Joshy glares up at Alex so fiercely, fists clenched again, that Emily starts to worry…but he only glances back at her with the same glare before brushing past Alex and beating a hasty retreat.
Emily brings her hands up to bury her face in them as her anger abruptly evaporates. Goddess, had she really just said all that? The fact that it was all quite true aside, her relationship with her brother had always felt a little – fragile. Now she feels as though she may have just shattered it entirely.
Strong arms wrap around her slender frame. She drops her hands and buries her face in his shirt instead.
"Dare I ask what all that was about?"
"I wouldn't. Just do me a favor; if he somehow manages to get his hands on a sword, don't hurt him too badly."
He pulls back to look down at her. "What?"
"He seems to think I have enough honor to be worth defending."
"Ah." Alex says, and apparently, wisely, decides to leave it at that.
"S'all your fault you know." She says on a whim, pulling out of his arms.
"My fault? I seem to recall ye being just as eager as I, thank ye very much."
"Well, you were the one who kept calling for more rum."
"And ye were enjoyin that just as much as I, too." He seems to have far more patience then she currently does. "Good afternoon, by the way. Ye slept half the day away. Jo was getting worried but didn't want to be the one to try waking you." He produces a flask from his vest and hands it off to her. "Drink. Smells bloody awful and tastes even worse, but it'll help your head."
She eyes him, then the flask, then decides she's got nothing to lose and snatches it from him, holding her nose as she drinks from it. "Ach! What is that?" She grimaces as she hands it back to him.
"You don't want to know. I wish I'd never asked. Now, about your brother… I've no intention of fightin a ten year old, if that was a question."
"It wasn't, and it won't matter. He's staying here." She slips past Alex, making her way back to her cabin.
"And when, pray tell, was this decided?" He follows.
"Just now. Your grandfather offered him a safe place here, and I'm thinking it'll work nicely. Unless you have a better suggestion?" She pulls out a fresh shirt from the tall cabinet on one side of the room and, simply because she's curious to see what Alex will do, pretends to pay him no mind as she slips off the one she's currently wearing.
He shows none of his surprise if indeed he feels it, calmly turning around to give her privacy. "Tease. You've no shame at all."
"I figure it's more fun that way. What's the matter? Your salty, scarred little sea girl not quite so appealing in the day light when you can see her clearly?"
He mutters under his breath, sounding a tad exasperated to her ears, but that could be put up to anything, so she doesn't ask. After a moment, he clears his throat, apparently deciding not to grace her question with a response. "What good would your dear brother staying here do if I'm here as well? The idea seems to be that we should stay out of each other's way."
She laces up the front of her corset and begins tying her hair back. "You can turn around now." He does and she finishes with her hair, then pauses, crossing her arms. "The idea is that he will stay here for the time being, and you'll be coming with me. Unless you intended to have me in my own bed and then leave me like I'm some whore. I'd like to think I'm at least worth more than that." She keeps her tone playful as she goes about strapping on her belt, but she is at least half serious.
His eyes – just for a moment he looks at her, and they're so sad. She can't fathom why. The look is wiped away as quick as it had come; he replaces it with a lazy grin. "I've yet to meet one of those even half as pretty as ye, dearie, I'll give ye that. I'm all yours if ye've a place for me, Captain." And there it is again, the way he says it, like he's half mocking her. He doesn't take it seriously.
He will, she decides, once they get back out to sea and start doing what pirates do best. She'll find some way to make sure of it. "I've always got a place for you." She replies as she crosses the room to stand just before him. "Now, I'd better go see Jo, I'm sure she'll have plenty to say." She leans in to place a brief kiss on his lips. "Thank you for – whatever that awful stuff was. I do feel better." And with that she leaves him.
This chapter kind of wrote itself… I think I'm having too much fun with these characters. Hope you enjoyed. :)