She doesn't even know where she is. She could start coming up with a plan, if she at least had a clue where she is. The stone walls and the way it's set up, a number of cells set along the back wall extending left and right for as far as she can see, suggests it's a fort she's in. And they're still in the Caribbean; she can feel that in the air, so that's good. But where, where, where? The trouble is, she can't remember. Anything before waking up in this cell is a blank. She's missing at least a few days' worth of memories. Her first thought upon waking was that she'd been drunk, because the back of her skull feels like someone tried to split it right open with a hammer and that usually means hangover, but she's already nixed that theory. She hasn't actually allowed herself to indulge to such an extent since the weeks after Alex ran off.

And she remembers that well enough. And the months following, all nine of them, so the lost memory thing is very short term. Which would be far more a comfort, except that still leaves her stuck behind bars in a fort whose exact location is still unknown to her. Oh, and the fact that there's an entire cell full of men just next to her, reaching out and begging for her to come closer isn't doing much to improve her mood either.

They're a rather curious bunch, come to think of it. They don't look like the scraggly bunch of drunks and beggars that can typically be found in any town. These men, though certainly a scruffy, unsavory lot, are strapping and strong and would be quite a threat if not for the bars separating them and her. Interesting.

Then again, they also don't know who she is. But that's at least partly because she's wearing a dress – proper, with stays and all, though it's worn in places. In fact, she's even got a chemise on beneath it, and stockings. And her hair, it's resting free about her shoulders, relatively clean. Which is downright disturbing, because she can't remember having gone about that task. Her brows furrow as it occurs to her she doesn't even know where she would have acquired such a rig as the one she's wearing, either. The last thing she remembers is being at sea, and there was something about a ship chasing them…

Anyway, she doesn't look at all herself. And her necklace is missing, which is what most worries her, for reasons beyond any obvious material ones.

She glares daggers at the men still beckoning to her, though this does her little good, and makes herself comfortable at the farthest end of the cell away from them. If only she had her sword… Sighing, she leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes, willing the pounding in her head to cease.

She isn't left like this for long. There's a commotion of some kind, perhaps the sound of a heavy door being opened on squeaky hinges. Thinking it could be a guard or whoever's had her locked up, she presses herself further back into the corner, curling in on herself a bit, trying to appear frightened. When in doubt, she's learned, her best bet is usually to act like the naïve little damsel. It works at least more often than any other tactic does.

Her eyes dart over to a set of stairs she'd noted earlier, mainly because there's a set of hooks just at the bottom of them that's currently housing her sword and pistols. Footsteps echo, lighter than she'd expect, and a figure emerges – not a particularly tall or strapping figure, either. In fact, she's rather small and looking a little the worse for wear with matted, light brown hair falling out of a tattered hat and an outfit that might once have been fine. The coat is now a touch tattered as well, and her trousers are stained. A short sword rests at her hip.

The woman in the cell gives up the act she'd been planning to put on before she even gets started. Instead, she leans forward a bit, scowling at the newcomer and wondering if her eyes are deceiving her.

"Captain." The men in the cell next to her murmur, all their eyes now trained on the woman with the hat.

'Captain?' The woman in the cell mouths, trying to make sense of this and shaking her head when she can't. "Adrienne." She addresses the other woman, who settles a pair of piercing, dark blue eyes on her. "Not that you aren't an oddly pleasant sight for sore eyes just at the moment, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"I could I ask you the very same, Capitaine Turner." She crosses the short distance between them, silencing the men in the other cell with but a sideways glance.

The other woman's tone hints at mocking, but Emily just rolls her eyes as she gets to her feet, rubbing the back of her still aching head. She crosses the cell to face Adrienne. "I'll have you know I was just working on a plan for getting myself out."

Adrienne snorts out right at this. "You don't even know where you are, do you?"

That's – unnerving, actually. Enough that Emily freezes, dropping the act. "How do you know that?"

The other woman just smirks before turning her attention to the men in the next cell. Taking out a key, she inserts it into the lock on that cell and…nothing. It won't turn. Anger contorts the Frenchwoman's features, and she pulls at the thing, trying to force it, but it just won't work. She lets out a long stream of rapid French, curses, some of which Emily now knows. Leaning against her own cell door casually, arms crossed, she snorts at Adrienne. "Not very lady like, Captain." She mimics the tone Adrienne had used on the same word earlier.

Adrienne turns to glare at her, lets out a final curse, and then turns that glare on the key in her hand. "You do not know what I went through to get my hands on this! I was certain it was the right one!"

"Well, apparently…" A pause as Emily's brain finally starts to catch up with her. "Try it on mine."

Adrienne looks even more exasperated, if that's quite possible. "And why would I do such a thing?"

Emily's not even looking at her any longer, is patting down her person, searching through the folds of her skirts. She knows herself well enough to know… "Yes!" She produces a few of simple, small metal pieces. Lock picks. "Because picking my way out is iffy from this angle, but if that key works, I can have your boys here out, toot sweet. That, and, I do have a ship." Emily's brows furrow. "Somewhere…which is a matter we can discuss later when you're not quite possibly just moments away from being caught and thrown in a cell yourself." The truth is, that's exactly why she's asking this of Adrienne. Having no idea where she is, she also has no idea of how she'd fair outside the walls of her cell even if she can manage an escape. Though Emily hates to admit it, she and Adrienne might just need each other at the moment. Adrienne scowls. Emily gives a triumphant smile at the silent confirmation that she's right. "Do we have an accord, then?"

Adrienne grumbles some more in French, but tries the key in Emily's cell door. Wonder of wonders, it actually works. Good to know she does have some manner of luck. Emily lets out a sigh of minor relief as she steps out and first goes to retrieve her sword and pistols before getting to work on the other cell door, pausing just long enough to glare at the randy bunch behind it. "I do know how to use this sword. Test that if you will, but I wouldn't if you value your manhood, gents."

A pause as Adrienne chuckles, sounding genuinely amused at this. "I think I would pay to see that show if you would not be leaving me without my best men."

"These are your best?" Emily grumbles. "Healthy bunch, I'll grant you, but they seem to have just the one thing on their minds, not sure how you'd be getting around that."

"Oh, one finds ways."

"Ha!" There's a telltale click and Emily swings the cell open. "Now, I'm supposing you did have some idea of where to go from here?"

"Of course." Adrienne says with vague indignation.

Emily rolls her eyes. "Well, then, seeing as we've just established I don't even know where we are." She gestures for the older woman to lead the way, and she does.

.

"Wha – oi!" A guard. Not particularly tall or strapping, this one. He looks determined, though.

Emily still doesn't recognize this place, but Adrienne has just told her they're almost free and clear of it. Or, they would be at least, if this goon hadn't planted himself in their way. She had just been wondering why there weren't more people around. Perhaps she'd jinxed it.

She almost reaches for her pistol on the off chance it'll be loaded – but no. If she fires that off, they'll really never make it out of here. Instead, she hands it and her sword off to Adrienne.

"What are you…" Adrienne hisses, sounding exasperated.

Emily ignores her as she struts down the hallway, pouting as she looks up through her lashes at the man holding a rifle. He looks rather unsure, raising his weapon halfway as he sizes her up. "H-hold it right there, miss."

She keeps going, expression giving nothing away even as her mind races. "Come now, soldier." She says, low and husky. "You're not going to waist a bullet on little ole me, are you? I'm sure we can come to some kind of understanding." She swaggers right up to him, giving him no time to react. Laying a hand on his chest and sliding it up to wrap her arm around his neck, she pulls him forward and plants a kiss on his lips, tongue instantly snaking out to ravish in a way a man would think impossible for a woman… and then she's slamming her Emily leg down on his foot, hard. He cries out and pulls back, and she snatches the rifle out of his hands and slams the butt of it into his stomach – and then his head as he doubles over. He collapses entirely. She steps back neatly, watching him. "Sorry, mate." She tosses the rifle down next to him and turns back to Adrienne and her men, one hand on her hip. "Coming?"

The men are all staring at Emily, expressions varying between fear, a measure of respect – or a little of both put together. Adrienne… just rolls her eyes.

.

"That was too easy." Emily pauses warily as they make it out onto the streets of a bustling town. They'd encountered just one other guard along the way, yes, but nothing that couldn't be handled. The corridors of the fort had been largely vacant.

"Are you complaining?" Adrienne asks before muttering some orders to her men in French. They head off, each going a separate way, though heading in the same basic direction it appears.

Emily shakes her head, unable to put a name to the unease settling in her gut. "Don't get me wrong. This is far better than waiting for I-don't-know-what down in that cell, but…"

Adrienne huffs. "Are you coming, or not?"

Emily follows her for lack of a better option. It's so strange that they stroll so easily through the streets. The residents of this town do send wary glances in Adrienne's direction, but avert their eyes quickly and seem more intent on just minding their own business. Emily looks around, and it's a lively port they're in. "Wonder who lives there?" She pauses a moment as her eyes fix on a mansion sitting proudly atop a hill in the distance. And it is a mansion, particularly in comparison to all the rest of the town.

Adrienne eyes the place up as well, looking a touch uneasy. "They say the Admiral himself has bought it up, though he rarely stays there."

"The Admiral." Emily darts to the side, turning her face a bit when a carriage rolls past them. She watches as it heads towards the mansion. "Interesting."

.

They seem to be heading down to the docks, passing shops and taverns and even a smithy as they do – Emily can hear hammering from inside, and thinks of her papa and what she once called home. Wait a moment…

Eyes wide, Emily gathers her skirts in her hands and sprints forward. She knows where they're going. Across that bridge, shadowed by palm trees, and there's the harbor full of ships and Emily continues on until she's standing just at the end of one section of the docks, staring out to open sea and shaking a bit as the pounding in her head returns with a vengeance.

Adrienne catches up to her after a moment, muttering in French. "Quel est le problème avec vous? You said you did not know where we are!"

"I don't." Emily shakes her head slowly, spinning on her heel and looking around, spying the fort sitting regally up on its cliff. "I don't know where we are, but I think…I know this place." A pause, and she finally turns her focus back on Adrienne. "Where are we?"

"You would not believe me if I told you."

"Oh, you'd be surprised by what I'm willing to believe."

Adrienne shrugs. "Welcome to Port Royal, Capitaine." A pause. "Your parents lived here, no? It is possible you know it from their stories."

"I suppose…" Emily looks around again, then shakes her head. "No. Well, I mean, yes, but no. This is too familiar." She brings her hands up to hold her head. "Blast my aching head! If – if this is Port Royal, then how are we standing here? I don't understand."

"The town was weakened after all that happened with Cutler Beckett, or so my papa once told me."

"So many years ago? It's regained strength since then, the Admiral saw to that, and my face should be plastered over everything determined as I thought he was to have my head." Then again, not too much has changed since she'd finally given Andrews his freedom. There are still plenty of East India Company ships scattered about, but they've been no more or less aggressive than they had been at the start, and Emily has started to wonder what it is the Admiral is waiting for now.

Shouting, up at the fort. It echoes, carried by the wind. A very delayed reaction to so many prisoners escaping. The two women don't stop to ponder any longer; Adrienne jogs back off in the direction they'd just come from, and Emily follows hot on her heels.

.

"Whoa." Emily looks around, eyes widening. It's a cave. Set into the cliffs beneath the fort, but well hidden. She would never have spotted it herself if Adrienne had not kept going, picking her way through the sand until the beach gave way to an outcropping of rocks. They'd had to climb over them to get here, but it was definitely worth it. There's a fire set up in the center of the cavern, blazing as several of Adrienne's men have already made it here. A few barrels and crates serve as tables and chairs. It looks an awful lot as though Adrienne has been camped out here a while. "Adrienne." She turns to the older woman, all business. "What's going on here?"

"Sit." Adrienne's already seated at one of the barrels. Emily crosses the room slow, skirting around Adrienne's men as she does, and sits across from her. "If I am very honest, I know little more than you do. I had thought I had some things figure out, but then I found you and now I am not so sure."

"I'm not surprised. I told you something's off. Not only am I thrown in a cell with no memory of how I got here, much less in there, but said cell just happens to be the one right next to your boys?"

"And I am sent through all the trouble to retrieve that key, only to have it be the one to your cell, not theirs."

"No way any of this is just coincidence." Emily glances back at the men scattered about the cavern. "They called you captain. Am I to assume that means you did have a ship? Of your own?"

Adrienne nods. "My father took on a pretty little Spanish galleon not more than a month ago. When the crew opted to jump ship, I asked if I could have it, and he proudly said yes."

"Well, then, where is it?"

"Taken from me." Her expression turns angry, cold. "Perhaps by the same men who arranged for you to be sent here and locked up."

"Perhaps." Emily runs a hand through her hair and winces at the pounding in her head. This would be one of those rare times when she finds herself tempted to call on her goddess. Not only would her born-of-an-immortal healing abilities be nice just now, but the fact she has no idea what's going on is even more unnerving than she's allowing herself to let on. She dismisses the thought as soon as it strikes her, however, as she always does. It may be a very long, ongoing battle, but she still intends to prove that she can do just fine on her own.

Adrienne grimaces as a thought seems to strike her. "If you do not remember how you got here, then how can you know they do not have the Sea's Queen as well?"

"I'd know if they had my Queen." Emily replies with no hesitation. "I'd never forget a detail like that, and Jo could run the ship if it were necessary, so..." She lights up at this thought. "Jo. We have a plan… She keeps to the Code, heads for Shipwreck at the first sign of trouble. If I could get a letter out…"

"You heard the shouting at the fort. There'll be guards out now, looking for us."

Emily sighs, frustrated. "Right. Probably best not to push my luck."

"But…" Adrienne goes on slowly. "They may not know the faces of my men so well. Though, I would suppose there is no guaranteeing that totty-headed slattern you call your first mate will be brave enough to sail here if what you say is true."

Emily rolls her eyes, pointedly ignoring Adrienne's insult to Jo because they'll get exactly nowhere if they start to bicker as they so easily could. "Considering we're currently held up in a cave, I should think it's worth a shot." Glancing around again, curiosity starts to take hold of her, especially when coupled with the fact that Adrienne currently looks more the ragged pirate than Emily. "How did that come about, anyway?"

"Comment, en effet." Cold fury reflects in the older woman's eyes again. "Now, there is the question."

.

The story she has to tell is long, but strange enough that Emily doesn't mind listening. It all started with Adrienne receiving a strange letter – which is to say, the letter did not specify who the writer was. It merely told Adrienne that she should sail for Port Royal, and do so with all haste. Adrienne's ship, which she had renamed Sapphire for the collection of blue gems she'd found in the captain's cabin, was not terribly huge, nor did it particularly stand out aside from being of Spanish make. With this in mind and being quite curious, Adrienne had made the decision to do as the letter instructed. Picking up a few extra hands in Tortuga to compliment the crew she believed was fairly loyal, figuring they could come in handy if things got rough, she set sail for Port Royal.

At first, nothing seemed amiss. In fact, it was very smooth sailing; they didn't even encounter any other ships on their way. The letter had been very specific, and had even included a map of the island to show Adrienne a separate alcove where she could anchor her Sapphire and not have to worry about the Navy. Explaining to her also that she would do well to dress more appropriate as the women of the upstanding port, it sent her on a merry jaunt through the bustling town to visit an old sailor and his wife. And this is where things got interesting.

The sailor was a grizzled old seadog, with a patch over his eye and a scarred and useless left hand, but was amicable enough. His wife, a plump, sweet little woman with kind green eyes, was quick to make Adrienne comfortable with tea and biscuits, and so they all sat down to converse. Adrienne, with wary trepidation, explained about the letter she'd received, trying to skirt around the fact she'd gotten here on a ship she captained. The old sailor was quick to jump on this, enquiring as to whether Adrienne had a ship at her disposal, although he didn't seem all too concerned with the details of whose ship it might be. Telling him that yes, she did, he went on to take his wife aside for a quiet conversation in private. Adrienne had been quite prepared to make a run for it at the first sign of trouble, worrying at this point that trouble was just what she'd managed to find, but this hadn't proved necessary. The old sailor soon returned, a touch of excitement behind his eyes as he presented her with two gifts – an intricate necklace of silver encrusted with deep blue gemstones he claimed matched Adrienne's eyes, and a map.

He went on to explain that his father had been from France, and had as well been a sailor, and had had a particular story he always liked to tell of his days at sea. A story that involved an island with caves full of the same sapphire stones, the god that watched over that island, and the Frenchwoman with deep blue eyes whose destiny it would be to protect said island from those that would rob it of all its beauty.

Adrienne, having once been a lady and now being very much a pirate, has quite the eye for finery and jewels, and was more than a little enchanted by the necklace itself. Thinking the legend to be just that, she promised the man whatever she thought he needed to hear, took the necklace and the map, and went on her way.

At this point in the story Adrienne touts her own stupidity for not setting sail that very evening. They only got halfway through the first watch before she was being awoken in her cabin; the ship was being attacked. Which is to say, it was halfway to being a mutiny. The men she'd picked up in Tortuga already had a master apparently, and combined with the fresh wave of men now crawling aboard her Sapphire, she was outnumbered. Half her men were slaughtered. Thankfully, her best were tougher than that – the six men hiding out in the cave with them had survived to tell the tale, and ran with her.

These men knew her father, so in some cases it was possibly more fear of him than loyalty to her that had them sticking with her. Adrienne, however, was not complaining at this point.

They wandered the area of the island that was jungle for a bit, but could only do so for so long. Finally, they were forced to head back for town. Adrienne had managed to snatch some things from her cabin upon making a run for it – namely the letter and its map, the map she'd gotten from the old sailor, and the necklace, along with a handful of the other jewels in the captain's cabin. The map of the island told her of the cave, so when one of her men was identified as a pirate by the brand on his neck, she made herself scarce and set up camp there with just two of her other men to help. When she thought she could get away with it, she went to see the old sailor again. He was gone, but his wife was able to help her into the fort…

"And here we are." Emily finishes for her, quite astounded. She takes a moment to think it all through. "So – what the devil does all this have to do with me?"

"Well, of that I am no more sure than you. My thinking is that the ship that is now mine has something to do with this legend, and that is why these other men wanted her. I cannot be certain, but I think perhaps that old sailor sent me the letter, though I cannot fathom how he would know to. But that would suggest he also set up my meeting you at the fort."

Emily runs a hand through her hair. "Which seems a touch far-fetched, but…"

"We've been to the Fountain of Youth. I am willing to believe nothing is impossible."

"Well, then, I suppose we'd better start to figuring a way out of here. I just have to get my hands on some ink and paper…"

"Emmy!"

It's her brother calling out, screaming for her. There's yelling all around, quite a bit of it coming from her as she shouts out orders that are doing no good. There's no time to carry them out. The men are everywhere already and the Queen is outgunned to the point of devastation.

"Emmy!"

She's trying to claw her way across the deck – is thrown off her feet as a cannon nearly blasts a hole straight through her – nearly loses her sword as it clashes with that of a man twice her size – spins around quick and nearly runs Jo through, not realizing...

"Emmy, look out!"

He's trying to warn her. The brute she'd just grappled with scoops her up in two massive arms, and she can't get free, can't, can't…

.

She wakes with a start on the cold floor of the cave she and Adrienne are hiding in. She tries to sort through all the dreams images, but can't seem to focus on any of them as the pounding in her head returns. All that stays with her is the roar of the cannons and the voice of her baby brother, screaming her name.

Days pass, and she worries. Perhaps more than she should, given that she'd been so sure of herself in the beginning. She'd know, wouldn't she? If her Queen had been taken, she'd never forget that. Without Alex, that ship is her world. If something had happened, Emily would just know.

When they think enough time has passed, Adrienne gather's her men and prepares them for the trek across the island. The journey is tedious long, mainly because they have to skirt around the town and then through the lush jungle. Catching a glimpse of white sails as they finally make it to the small alcove Adrienne had first laid her own ship to rest in, Emily shoots forward, out past the trees and onto the beach.

Never before has she been so overjoyed to see her ship. And really, that is saying something.

Gathering in her hands the skirts of the dress – which she cannot wait to get out of – she wades out into the water with no hesitation. Spying Jo up on deck, peering down at her, Emily climbs up the side of the ship unhindered by her leg with the ease of much of practice.

"Captain!" Jo exclaims as she makes it up on deck. "By the old gods, if you aren't a sight for sore eyes!" She's got Emily's old coat in her hands, drapes it over the captain's shoulders.

"Me! Jo, you haven't the faintest. Mind, our girls looking a little beat up still for my taste." Emily looks around a bit as she sweeps her dampened hair out of her face. "Where's Joshy?"

"Here Emmy!" Joshy was apparently up in the crow's nest, watching for her perhaps? He's still clinging to the rigging, but jumps down onto the deck and runs up to face her, a grin nearly splitting his face in half. "I knew you'd come back to us!"

"Was there a question?" She ruffles his hair and treats him to a smile of her own before her brows furrow. "And papa?"

"Stayed back at Shipwreck." Jo answers. "Apparently Captain Teague wanted his help with something."

Something about that sounds odd, but Emily doesn't have time to think on it.

"Capitaine? Permission to come aboard?"

Jo freezes, eyes going wide at the familiar voice. "Erm, Cap'n?" She asks, wary.

Emily sends her an apologetic glance before turning to look out on the beach, where Adrienne is stood with her men. She wonders why the other woman is abruptly being so respectful. Perhaps she'd had her doubts of whether the ship would be here, as Emily had? She waves them forward. "Come on, then."

"Wait just – is that – are you really…" Jo stutters.

Emily turns back to her, tone turning a bit more captain-ish. "Yes that's Adrienne, yes she's coming aboard. She's been stuck hiding in a cave and we're now her only passage off the island, so I'm sure she'll be on her very best behavior." She rattles off. "Now try to stop stuttering and ready us to get underway as soon as we have her, I don't want to tempt fate by staying here any longer. Oh, and send her down to me when she and her men get settled."

Jo looks like she desperately wants to protest, her favorite scowl-grimace contorting her features. "But – Cap'n, she…"

Emily huffs, looping an arm through the older woman's and taking her aside. "There may or may not be a reward of a shinier nature in the not too distant future if we can keep her happy. Or," she waves a hand, "whatever her approximation of happy is, I'm not sure that woman remembers how to smile properly, but you get the point." Jo's looking at her with both eyebrows raised now. Emily winks. "Incentive enough to play nice?"

"Aye. I think that'll about do it." The older woman turns and barks out a couple of orders to the men around as she goes to greet Adrienne.

More than ready to be out of the infernal dress and into something a bit easier to maneuver in, Emily heads down to her cabin.

~-~-~-~
Seven Months Ago, Port Royal
~-~-~-~

The bakery is simply bustling with activity. Although, perhaps this isn't saying much, it usually is now. Ever since Laurel Norrington had ordered several dozen of the Old Woman's cinnamon pastries be made for the party the Admiral had thrown. Apparently, the lovely Miss Norrington wasn't the only one who liked the treats; the Old Woman is having so hard a time trying to keep up with the demand for her breads and pastries now, Alex alone is near on to running the rest of the bakery, and she'd even hired another boy to help. At least Alex is a quick study. Although his goal at the moment involves simply saving up enough coin to hop on a ship to the American colonies, he's beginning to think running a shop of some kind would be a most enjoyable way to set himself up…if he can ever get that far.

And he likes being busy. Being busy keeps his mind off of her, which is an excellent thing because not thinking about her is forever more easily said than done. Every little thing reminds him of her, even here. Every time he sells the pastries that are the same sort as the one he bought her for her birthday when they were children, he thinks of her and the kiss she bestowed upon his cheek for it. Every time he has an evening to himself and slips down to the tavern by the docks, he smells rum and the sweet apples she likes and thinks of her and how she would taste of the strange pairing as well. Every time he strolls through town and smells the salty sea on the breeze, he thinks of her and how beautiful she would look with her hair loose and blowing in that breeze, standing on the deck of the ship she loved more than him.

"Alex!" Speaking of much needed distractions. Imogene rushes forward as she enters the shop, but blushes deep as she receives a lightly disapproving look from another lady just leaving. "I-I mean. Good day, Mister Teague." She gives a slight curtsy.

"Miss Ellsworth." Alex greets with a smile.

"Ah. What I wouldn't give to have a man greet me with such a look." Another voice, the tone a strange mixture of wistfulness and sarcasm, brazen though her accent is proper and precise.

"Oh, Laurel!" Imogene breathes, a blush coming up to color her cheeks, as it often does around Alex. "Just because he smiles at me? Don't be silly."

Alex's eyes dance with amusement as they land on the other voices owner, though he tries to hide it. "Nice to see you as well, Miss Norrington." He replies, with sincerity. He likes Imogene's friend Laurel, perhaps because, like Imogene, her nose isn't so far stuck in the air as her station in life would entitle her to have it. Though, with Imogene, this is due to a heart truly full of kindness. Laurel Norrington is – in a class all her own. Alex can't figure her out. Perhaps that's why he enjoys the short conversations he does have with her.

"There, do you not see?" Laurel replies, the hint of a mischievous smirk in her eyes. "Even his smile is different when looking at others." She turns to greet Alex. "Master Teague. As I know I won't keep your attentions for long, I trust you already have my usual request?"

He nods. "Right 'ere, as always." He takes out the small box. "A baker's dozen for the lady."

"And the lady thanks you very kindly." She takes the box in exchange for an impressive handful of coins. Far more than the silly pastries are worth, but the first time Alex asked about this, she just winked and told him she was sure he'd find more use for them than she had, anyway. He decided to be smart and never questioned it again.

Imogene comes forward, a small wicker basket on her arm. Glancing around, Alex notes that the other boy he now works with seems to have things under control. Deciding it's safe to spare a few moments for Imogene, he comes out from behind the counter. "What's this?" He asks, glancing down at the basket.

"Oh, just a little something for lunch – if you think you could spare the time? I thought we might find a place down by the beach."

His eyes widen. This is not the first time Imogene has brought him food; in fact, she does so often enough now that he's joked she must be trying to fatten him up. But to suggest that they take a stroll…just the two of them…

Eyebrows raised, that same smirk behind her eyes now tugging at her lips, Laurel clears her throat softly. "Ah, and I believe that would be my queue to toddle off, as it were. Imogene, I shall see you tomorrow. Master Teague, good day."

Managing to remember himself, if only just, Alex turns and bows slightly. "Good day."

"Well?" Imogene prods, gentle, her sky blue eyes wide as ever and full of hope.

Alex brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, uncomfortable. "I don't know. I mean, not that I wouldn't love to go with ye. S'just, well, people 'round 'ere seem to like their gossip. I ain' sure as I'm the kind o' company ye should be keepin, if I'm honest, Miss Ellsworth."

She loops an arm through his, smiling softly up at him. "I shall keep whatever company I enjoy keeping. Besides, why would anyone object to friends sharing lunch?" The question is innocent, as though, somehow, she really doesn't understand.

Alex isn't sure he wants to be the one to try and explain to her, so he switches tracks. "Erm, what about yer mum?" Because that woman scares him. He won't say it out loud. But Mrs. Ellsworth has a reputation for being a fierce little thing, and Alex doesn't want to get on her bad side.

"Mother trusts me. And perhaps we do not have to go down by the beach. There is that spot up near the Admiral's new mansion that couples go to picnic. It is well within plain sight of town, there'd be nothing left for the gossips to natter about. Come, please?"

Alex knows that spot, and she has a point. The grassy hill is far enough from town for privacy of conversation, but close enough for the town's residents to be sure nothing untoward could be happening with the couples there. He glances at the other boy still behind the counter, who eyes up Imogene – discreet and respectful about it – and raises his brows at Alex before gesturing for him to go. "Aye, alright." Alex reaches out to relieve Imogene of the basket. "Off we go then, Miss Ellsworth."

And as they go and have lunch and converse and laugh, and with the addition of much blushing, Alex's minds is, for once, pushed far from Emily Turner. So far, in fact, it is the next morning before even fleeting thoughts of her cross his mind again.

These next few chapters are sort of 'meanwhile…' chapters. The idea for them came from me basically just wanting to play with Adrienne's character a little, because I like to give all of my OCs plenty of love, as you may have noticed.

On a different note, I've rewritten parts of this chapter so many times that I'm just calling it done out of frustration and a need to post something. Reviews?

Thanks for reading. :)

French:

Quel est le problème avec vous? – What is the matter with you?
Comment, en effet. – How, indeed.