Jo doesn't see Emily or Alex the next morning, and doesn't worry, no, not at all. Why would she be worried about the fact that they'd disappeared at the same time last night and the fact that she'd watched them just long enough to know they were heading towards the docks? They were clever, those two, they'd be fine, even with Emily's papa around. Right?

Alright, so she's very much so worried. She can't seem to help it. She got that from her mother, she's pretty sure. Anyway, it all leads up to her being relieved to the point of ridiculousness when she finally does see the pair, stealing a kiss down by the docks again, which isn't surprising. Emily can't seem to stay away with the Queen and all her new and pretty glory, and she did have that other captain to deal with still.

Unsurprisingly, Emily spots her and comes jogging up immediately.

"Well, Alex seems to be alive and well." Jo starts, eyeing the boy in question. "I'm assuming your papa has no idea what exactly you two were up to last night?"

Emily shrugs, blushing just a bit and covering it with a scowl. "I think he has plenty ideas, he just has no proof, and we have Alex's grandfather to thank for that if you can believe it. Anyway, I refuse to care after yesterday morning."

"You're furious at your papa, but you're acting as if Alex has done nothing at all. I'm really rather curious as to what did happen yesterday morning."

"Not as curious as I am about you now, I'll bet." Emily replies with a grin that is decidedly mischievous – and a little too wide, maybe, but is that just Jo's imagination?

Jo stares at her, blank. "Why would you be…"

"Oh, come now, as if I wouldn't notice that handsome blue-eyed rogue you had smiling at you all last night."

Now it's Jo's turn to blush; she can feel the heat, no doubt turning her cheeks a rosy red. "You were supposed to be rather preoccupied."

"Well, who was he?"

"He's a captain. He seemed to think I looked rather lonely last night, he was only being a gentlemen."

"Well did Mr. 'only being a gentlemen' have a name? Alex thought he'd seen him before, said he's known for being genuinely quite charming."

"His name's Christoff." Could the blush get any deeper? "And he is."

"And?"

"And what?" Jo scoffs.

Emily huffs, exasperated, as if Jo's going about it all wrong somehow. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Perhaps. I don't know."

"But you hope so." Emily says, as if she can just tell.

"Yes." Jo concedes. "Yes, I do hope so."

Emily's already long gone, heading back for the ship, when Jo realizes… she'd pointed something out. And Emily had avoided saying a thing about it, a little too smoothly.

She wonders what Emily had seen in her visions now and hopes it doesn't have anything to do with Alex.

"Please Emmy!"

"No."

"But…"

"No!"

"But Ipromisetobe…"

"Joshy! It's not up for discussion! You can't come along and that's that!"

"But WHY?"

Emily huffs, exasperated. He just won't give up. "Because it's still not safe, and because you need an education and Mrs. White has agreed to give you a basic one."

"I don't care about being educated! And I'd be safe enough if you gave me a sword!" The words spill out of his mouth, and then he looks surprised, as though he might be on to something. "Wouldn't I? You could teach me to use it better Emmy, no one's better with a sword than you are!"

"I care about you being educated, and for the love of my goddess, I am not putting a sword in the hands of a child, you're being ridiculous."

"But – but you've only just got our papa back and he's going with you and I want to know him and you can't just leave me behind again you just can't!" He stomps his foot, fists clenched, and that's a proper tantrum if ever she's seen one, isn't he getting a bit old for that yet?

"I know." She near shouts back. Their papa was, in fact, the one who pointed out that it might be best to leave Joshy out of things for the time being. But if Joshy will listen to anyone, it'll be his big sister. She takes a breath to calm herself before going on. "I know, but I promise we'll come visit again soon and papa will still be with us then, you'll have all the time you could possibly want with him."

Tears stream down his face as he stares up at her, but he doesn't say anything more, only shaking his head before spinning around and running, presumably just to get away from her.

She starts off small. A gentleman, and particularly a naïve boy like Riley, would shy away from a woman pushing too hard; as with everything else, she must get this just right. So she flirts, but keeps her hands to herself. Offers to have him for dinner in her cabin, but doesn't look too disappointed when he declines. Waves off her men – even Alex – when allowing him out to walk with her. And she simply talks. Not like the women he would know. A boy like Riley isn't so much worried about all of that prim and proper nonsense, at least not yet, because that's all he's known, right? To keep his interest, she has to continue being different. Being the exact opposite of what he's been told a young woman should be. At least, he certainly seems to find that enticing enough.

Basically, she just has to be Peg without a trace of Emily, which is almost easier anyway because Emily wants to feel just a little guilty for being so conniving.

It takes a good week for him to show signs of giving in. Emily is growing restless, as are her men, and is preparing the Queen to set sail the day something finally gives. She's not sure what's changed. But something almost certainly has. That hint of mischief that's always swimming somewhere in his eyes is now unhindered; he's looking for trouble.

"Captain." He says that afternoon, just as the Queen finally gets underway again. He's nervous but trying to pretend confidence in a way that she actually finds rather cute.

"Yes, Mr. Connelly?" She asks, innocent, as if she doesn't suspect what's coming. He's insisted on being anything other than just 'Riley' since her last conversation with his captain. She suspects Andrews himself is behind this.

"I…" He stutters a bit and trails off, taking a breath. "I was wondering if the invitation to dinner in your cabin still held."

Her smile is two parts pleasant surprise, and one part serious flirtation. "Of course. In fact, I'd be delighted if you'd join me."

She informs Jo, has a table set up in her cabin just near the window with candles and wine, and slips into the same outfit she'd had on when having her first talk with Andrews.

Alex points out, annoyed and clearly jealous, how backward the whole scene is, her being the woman and trying to seduce Riley with wine and candles. She allows him to make his annoyance clear; lets him glare at Riley and send a passive threat his way. Perhaps it'll bring her whole act together, help Riley to believe it's real.

"Would it be too bold of me to ask for my sword back, Captain?" Riley asks as they enter her cabin, for a moment sounding very bold indeed. "Your friend doesn't seem particularly fond of me."

Emily thinks Alex Sparrow can beat her with a sword when they're only practicing an art; Riley would never stand a chance against an angry, jealous Alex in a duel. She only smiles though, soft and placating. "My men listen to me, Mr. Connelly. If Alex becomes a problem he will be thrown in my brig until he feels generous enough apologize for it."

Riley bows slightly, flustered. "Right. Yes, of course, Captain. I didn't mean to imply anything otherwise." Slipping around her, he pulls one of the chairs out for her. She pointedly pulls out the opposite chair for herself and sits. "And," he adds, stuttering a bit, but seating himself, "I think, I've decided, I like just Riley better."

"Mmm, good. I like it rather better as well. And you could try something other than captain for me, I suppose."

"Peg, isn't that what they call you? Peg Leg Turner."

"Friends have taken to calling me Peg, yes." She pauses just long enough to allow the question of whether he's now her friend to cross his mind. "But I suppose," she goes on, wistful, as though this is a bit of a privilege she's handing out, "you might call me Emily. It would be nice to hear." That's not a lie. The only one who calls her that now is her papa, and since she's still rather angry with him, they haven't spoken much. (And she does seem to always not be speaking with someone, doesn't she?) She pours some wine into the glass before him, then into her own, watching as he seems to hesitate before reaching for it. "A bit late for such mistrust now, isn't it? I swear on whatever honor I have left, I'm not going to poison you. There'd be little sense in it." To prove it, she takes a sip from her own glass.

He relaxes visibly and finally reaches for his glass, taking a large gulp of the red liquid within it. "Pirates are hardly known for being trustworthy Cap – Miss Emily. But I suppose you're right."

"Oh, but you'll find I make a point of keeping what promises I choose to make." She glances up to briefly meet his eyes before picking up her fork and beginning to eat.

"Good to know." He replies softly, and begins eating as well. Silence reigns for several moments until he reaches for his glass again, and she gets the sense he's trying to work up some courage. She waits patiently. Finally, he sets the silverware in his hands down, looking up at her. "Will – will you forgive me if I speak plainly, Miss Emily?"

"I'd encourage it." She refills his glass for him.

"What is it you want with me? I am scarcely more than a boy and know little when it comes to the information you're seeking." And one has to admire such blatant honesty, anyway.

"Oh, but I could always use another strapping young sailor aboard my Queen. Sure it is easy enough to pick some men up in Tortuga, but they'd hardly be as strong and sturdy as you."

He's intrigued by the idea. His eyes give him away easy, just as Alex's do. "And what would make you think I'd be any more willing to turn pirate than Captain Andrews?" He's trying to be a good boy. She should feel bad for toying with him so, but she just can't bring herself to.

She snakes a hand up to toy with one of the rubies dangling from the necklace around her neck and is pleased to see his eyes darting downward and lingering where they shouldn't. "Tell me, my dear Riley, I am curious. What would make a boy like you join the Company?"

He tears his eyes away to stare down at the plate before him. "My mother. She's ill. She has been ill for some time. They have treatments that may make her better for now, but we've hardly the coin to…" He trails off, shaking his head, sitting straight again and looking back up to her. "I was offered a way to earn it and now here I am."

"And what if my offer happens to be better?" He looks skeptical. She stands, he follows suit, and she makes her way over to her desk. Taking out a key, she sends a bit of a smirk his way before bending down and quite deliberately giving him a nice view as she unlocks one of the desk drawers. When she glances his way again, his cheeks are flushed and he's looking away, hands held behind his back resolutely. Goddess, he's making it too easy. Taking out one of the three small pouches occupying the drawer, she sets it on her desk with the distinct sound of jingling metal. This gets Riley's attention; his eyes travel down to fix on the pouch as she opens it and reaches inside – and pulls out a small, heavily engraved gold coin. Winking, she flips it to him.

He examines it, eyes widening. "Gold. Where did… what sort of…"

"That, is a Spanish doubloon." She slips back over to him, pressing in close to his side as she takes the coin out of his hand and holds it up in the candlelight. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much a few of these could get you." Pressing her lips against the coin, her movements slow and deliberate, she then takes it and presses it back into his hand.

He clutches it, looking far more tempted than she would've dared to hope for. "I don't need your blood money, Captain." There is some lingering venom behind the words.

She laughs softly, slipping a hand up to run it over his chest, playing with the buttons of his vest. "My dear, dear Riley. You're looking at it all wrong. It's not as though whoever possessed those coins wasn't likely guilty of his own crimes. It's always something with these rich noblemen, isn't it? All that they possess and you, barely able to care for your ailing mother." She leans in just a little further…

He tenses, grabbing her hand in his own, stilling it firmly, but this is good. She's hit a nerve. "What would you know about it? Why do you do this?"

"Oh, I should think I know quite a bit for what the Admiral himself has done to me." She pulls away and turns, skirting around the table to stare out the window as though he's the one that's gotten to her. "Stealing me away when I was but a child." She crosses her arms, carelessly allowing the blouse to slouch down past her shoulder and reveal a bit more skin in the process.

"The Admiral?" There is shock in his voice now. "Why would the Admiral have done such a thing?"

"Oh, I've never quite known. I suppose he wanted my parents. But you see I only lived with my papa, a good man, a hard-working blacksmith. I could not have known at the time. And yet they locked me away." She throws just the hint of a waver into her voice.

Silence ensues for several long moments and then he comes up behind her slowly. "It seems – maybe there is more to this than I realized. Please forgive me, Cap-Emily." A hand comes up to rest, gentle and hesitant, on her shoulder.

Peg smirks inwardly at her sweet, sweet victory.

They are a mere two days out at sea when Emily bounces out on deck, smirking into the morning sun as she makes her way up to the helm, her uncle's compass clutched in one hand.

"Well. What's put in you in so fine a mood this morning, Cap'n?" Jo calls up to her.

"The Admiral and I are going to have another little chat, and I am very much looking forward to this one." Emily replies, her smirk turning to an evil grin as she looks down to consult the compass.

"You've gone daft." Jo says, staring at Emily, eyes wide and incredulous. "Completely barmy. You'll never pull that off."

"If I didn't have you, of course not. But I do. Surely you can teach me how to act like another little goody-goody, just for one night."

"It's not that simple, Peg." Jo says with her usual blatant honesty. "You're talking about cramming an entire lifetimes worth of etiquette lessons into a few weeks. And even if I could get you half way cleaned up and any kind of decent, they'd recognize you right quick, if not for the slight limp with your leg, then for the way you walk otherwise, with the swinging gait of a sailor."

"Surely, if I was wearing a dress… with those blasted stays, a woman can scarce move to begin with."

"And don't even get me started on the way you talk!" Jo cuts in. "You can't hold your tongue to save your life, and if any of those nobles heard you swearing like a sailor…"

"I can hold my tongue just bloody fine when I need to." Emily grumbles in reply – inadvertently proving Jo's point.

Jo only shakes her head, throwing up her hands.

"I think she could manage." This from Emily's papa, who's sitting with booted feet propped up on her desk, the flask which she'd given back to him in his hand and no doubt full of rum. Considering the state he'd caught her in a few mornings ago, she can't bring herself to say anything about it – for the same reasons, no doubt, that he hadn't really scolded her that morning. He's been curiously silent since Emily had outlined her plan.

Emily turns to him, surprised. "You..do?"

"You spent a year and half out at sea before this ship became yours? And you captain it so well the name Peg Leg Turner is spreading like wildfire. There isn't much I wouldn't be willing to bet you could do, Emily. I'd be more concerned about finding you a ball gown and actually getting you into this – what is it, anyway?"

"A birthday celebration for his sister's daughter. Or his brother's daughter? One of his sibling's daughters. Apparently Mummy N. liked children and Daddy N. really liked giving them to her, if you know what I mean."

Will's eyes widen at what his daughter is rather bawdily implying, and he turns away as he drinks from his flask. Emily smirks; she enjoys doing that to him.

"Mummy and Daddy… N.?" Jo asks, raising a brow.

"The Admiral's parents. Riley couldn't get a full name out of Andrews, he only knows it starts with an N. It's not important, anyway. I assume he's the Admiral to anyone save for, perhaps, his family. Which, like I already said, is large. The number of people attending the ball will be even bigger. Hopefully, there'll be enough happening that I can slip in unnoticed."

"Right. That just leaves us with the matter of ball gowns." Jo says, apparently growing resigned.

"Gowns?" Emily asks, bemused.

"Aye." Her papa pipes up again, thinking along the same lines as the older woman apparently. "Or perhaps a suit for Sparrow. Young ladies are expected to have an escort, and I suppose," he looks as though it pains him to admit it, "if it's to be anyone, it may as well be the boy for the way he looks at you."

Emily doesn't get a chance to answer, as there's a rather frantic knock at her cabin door. "Cap'n!"

"Speak of the devil…" Her father mutters.

Emily scowls at him before crossing the room to open the door. "What is it, Alex?"

"We may 'ave a problem. I think ye'll want to see it for yerself."

Her father gets to his feet, tucking his flask away, and he and Jo both tail Emily out of her cabin.

The word 'problem' doesn't even begin to cover it. Emily is furious when she gets up on deck and sees who's stood before the steps leading to the helm, held in place firmly by two of her men. One glance at her father tells her he is as well.

"Joshua Turner, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

…

"...if we'd come across another ship? If I hadn't known you were down there, Joshy, do you know what might've happened? I didn't go all the way to the end of the world to get our papa back just to have you killed in a battle because you were stuck in the middle of it without my knowledge!"

"Peg." Jo scolds gently. "I think he's got it now."

Joshy is sitting in the window seat, staring down at his hands in his lap. He won't look at Emily, and hasn't talked save for to mumble the occasional apology. Jo crosses the cabin to him, sitting next to him and pulling him close. He looks up after a moment, wiping away a tear that's slipping down his cheek. "I'm sorry, Emmy. Really. It's just – I missed it so much, being on the ship with you. And I was so curious about Papa."

Heaving a sigh, Emily comes up to sit on the other side of him. He throws his arms around her, hugging her tight, and she presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"You're not going to take me back, are you?" He looks up at her, green eyes full of panic now.

Emily exchanges a brief look with Jo. "We're more than two days out. Bringing you back would mean losing time that I can't afford now, so you've got lucky this time around." He relaxes visibly. "But I'm putting you in Timmy's charge, you'll be a proper cabin boy with him now. And you'll sleep right by him, with the rest of the crew." Joshy nods, not even questioning this change. Emily goes on, sterner. "And you'll stay well out of Alex's way."

"Only if…" Joshy seems to steel himself, pulling away from Emily now. "Only if he stays away from you."

"What makes you think you can demand that?" She asks, more weary than indignant.

"Because – because you're my sister and he's not – you aren't…" He struggles to explain, which is apparently difficult when dealing with a nine-year-olds vocabulary.

"It's not up for discussion." Emily cuts him off firmly, then plows on before he can protest. "Now, about getting you a sword. You're still far young for that yet, but if you want to get that good with a blade I'd suggest asking our papa. I won't be putting one into your hands until he thinks you can handle it properly."

Joshy looks about to protest, but Jo nudges him. He relaxes some and nods, resigned, then shoots to his feet, his green eyes lighting up again. "I'm going to go find papa now."

"Alright. And Joshy." Emily ruffles his hair, offering him a small, soft smile. "I missed you too."

"We shouldn't." But they're already alone in Emily's cabin.

"I know." But Alex makes no move to leave.

"We've got them both watching." And she's secretly enjoying the thrill of that.

"Ye're dad'll 'ave me 'ead." And he's secretly hoping the older man will try.

"Suppose you could leave soon as…" She's already crossing the room.

"S'ppose that's just what I'll do." He's already removing his vest.

He knows she's going to be the end of him some day. She knows that day may be coming far sooner than he thinks. But they both know that they can't stay away, so they silently agree not to bother trying.

Timothy Andrews thinks he really should've realized that the Connelly boy was going to be a problem. He wasn't like the other young men; he'd been begging on the streets when Andrews had picked him up, a scrawny urchin who was dangerous close to being an orphan and could barely even read. Taking the boy in had been a calculated risk; there was always the chance it could somehow go south like this. If it hadn't then Andrews might have had himself a good right hand man, which had been the point of the risk, but now here he was.

"I won't. I won't do it." The boys voice is surprisingly steady.

"What's got into your head, Connelly? I warned you about the tricks she'd play! What makes you think she's telling you anything but lies?"

"I don't know that she isn't, sir, but I… with all due respect –"

"I think you've forgotten the meaning of the word." Andrews spits.

"…how am I to know whose lying and who isn't?"

Peter Montgomery, his other midshipmen, has been sitting quietly in the corner of the room for some time, but he shoots to his feet at this, apparently incensed. "Where were you before you were given that uniform? Penniless, a dirty little almost-orphan living on the streets! It's only because of the Captain…"

"Montgomery! That's quite enough."

"Sorry, sir. I just don't understand, Riley. Are you honestly going to take the word of this – this – murdering harlot over…"

"Do you want to know what that 'murdering harlot' is claiming the Admiral's done to her?" Connelly barks back, suddenly all spit and fire. "And when she was just a little girl, no less! And has it ever occurred to you – don't anybody else get to talk to the Admiral? We never even seen him! Only Andrews knows what's happening anymore, I heard the other men talking about it just the night before…" He trails off suddenly, shaking his head.

His fists are clenched and he's shaking with fury. Andrews isn't quite sure where he could be drawing it from. Several beats of silence ensue, until Andrews finally feels brave enough to speak again, each word chosen carefully. "The night before she sunk our ship, killed half our shipmates? Listen to yourself, Riley. Don't you see what's she's doing? She is indeed the Devil's daughter. A week, is that all its taken? She's wrapping you right around her finger. Are you so ready to throw away all you've worked for so far, all I've promised you?"

Connelly closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. His fists stop shaking and then uncurl. "All you've worked for, you mean?" And he seems to take care to match his Captain's more polished speech again. "And why did you promise me all of that? So you could – could have someone around to do you're dirty work later on, like you do for the Admiral? I'm sorry, sir. I'm – I'm not saying she's won me over. But I won't be the one to stab her in the back, either."

Andrews finds that he does not want to do what he should do now. He deliberates for a moment. They are stuck here. And Connelly does seem rather indecisive yet. Sighing, he decides to allow himself a luxury, just this once. "I'd suggest you think this through, Riley, and hard. Refusing to do as I ask will mean she has indeed won you and I will have no choice but to declare you a pirate and hand you over to her. I have no wish to do that to you."

Connelly turns away, shuffling across the room to stare out the window, not giving an answer. Andrews watches him and curses Emily 'Peg Leg' Turner in case he hasn't done so enough already and quietly decides that this means war.