"This island must be massive." Emily points out as she pores over Adrienne's map. "But nothing about it is terribly familiar. Where is this supposed to be?"

"I am – uncertain. That old sailor gave me only this map and the necklace."

Emily plants a hand on her hip. "Not actually very much help, then, is it? Are you sure this was it?"

"Unless I left something behind on my ship. I suppose it is possible, I had thought there was more than this. Tout se est passé si vite…" She trails off, looking haunted, and shakes her head. "They stormed my cabin first thing. Perhaps the map is what they were looking for. If there were two and I left one behind – then they could be half way along already."

"But they'll be going in blind once they get there, they could spend days alone wandering the wrong half of the island. That'll slow them down."

Adrienne brightens a fraction at this, but then heaves a sigh. "But now how do we know what our heading is?"

Emily holds up a finger at this. "That, I may be able to help with." Reaching under her desk, she feels around a bit until she finds the right area, then charges two fingers to give a minute burst of magic as she presses up into the wood. A telltale 'click' sounds out and a compartment on the side of the desk pops open. She pulls it out and rummages around a bit, pushing aside a few odds and ends, including the Asian masterpiece of a map that had once taken her to the End of the world. Finally, she pulls out a certain unassuming, supposedly-broken compass and holds it up for Adrienne to see. "Now, tell me, Captain. Just how bad do you want your ship back?"

"Emmy!" Joshy is yelling, trying to warn her.

"Cap'n, behind you!" That's Jo's voice; she soon devolves into gruff curses as she tries to watch her own back.

"Saucy lit'le wench! Cap'n's goin ta be real pleased to see you!" Massive arms circle her slender frame before she can turn and fight, and he's so strong, too strong, he picks her up like a rag doll. She kicks and screams and curses him but she can't get free, just can't…

.

The brig is small and dingy and she is cold and starving and so thirsty. She's been down here at least three days, and wonders whether her captives have forgot about her.

Her captors. Her stomach lurches as a chill runs down her spine. Who are her captors? The ship hadn't looked like a company ship, but…but it had been foggy…and she doesn't know. Oh goddess, she doesn't know. The last time they had caught her – she feels an echo of the pains across her back.

And her goddess had done to Emily the equivalent of sending a child to her room, punished her for being a bad girl. No more immortal. The wounds would linger and they would hurt.

All at once she is terrified. She can hear heavy footsteps now, pounding down the stairs. They haven't forgot her, then. The footsteps grow closer, closer, and Emily tries to hold her head high even as her hands are shaking something fierce now. A hulking figure appears…

.

"You'd fetch me a lovely price." It's a man, not the brute who caught her, someone else. He circles her, predatory, running his hand through her hair, leaning in to smell it. "It falls like a waterfall, when cared for properly." He says of it, and comes to stand before her, grabbing her chin roughly and pulling it up to face him, as though to inspect her, like she's little more than his property. She refuses to look at him. "And those lips are just begging to be kissed." He leans in as though tempted to do the kissing himself, and she almost wishes he would, she'd bite his tongue clean off and if not, his lip. He lets her go though, steps back and clasps his hands behind his back. "An awful pity. Yes, if not for the leg, you'd fetch a lovely price indeed, even with those unfortunate freckles."

She wants to gut him, for the backhanded insult, for what he's suggesting he could've done with her, for what that means he's done with other girls. She wants to rip out his tongue and feed it to the sharks and then she'd move lower and oh how she'd enjoy…

.

His face. Blast it all, the visions – memories – they're all fuzzy and she can't remember his name, and his face is a blur and she just can't…

.

She wakes with a start, sweat dripping down her cheeks and dampening her night clothes and the sheets around her. The throbbing in her head comes back again, and now her insides have decided to do summersaults too, maybe because of her head, she doesn't know. Before she can think on it further instinct has her on her feet and shooting across to throw open her window and jump out to the balcony beyond as her belly relieves itself of what little was in it.

There's a brief moment where dizzy confusion overtakes her as someone comes up behind her, pulling brunette waves out of her face. "A-Alex?" She stutters, because she sees him so often in her dreams at times.

There's a pause, and a soft tenor answers. "Dreaming of him again?"

She relaxes, her shoulders slumping as she closes her eyes and takes a moment to breath, in and out, slow and easy. When her stomach settles and the pain in her head becomes marginally less violent, she turns to the boy behind her. "How do you know I dream of him?"

Riley's expression is unreadable. "Sometimes you call out in your sleep."

She should feel guilt for this, but can't be bothered to. "No. I wasn't dreaming of him." She doesn't go on.

Riley knows by now; she'll elaborate if and when she's ready. "Come on." He says only in reply, helping her to stand on wobbly legs. She wraps an arm around his bare shoulders and allows him to help her back to bed.

She lays with her back to him, and they curl up together. He runs a hand through her hair, and all is silent as she collects her thoughts. "I think – I was dreaming about what happened. While I was gone."

"The days you can't remember?"

"Bits n' pieces. None of its clear enough to…" She sighs, tired more than frustrated at this point. He is silent as he continues to play with her hair. She glances back at him. "What are you thinking?"

A pause. "You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway."

He never refuses her. "Do you think, perhaps – if these memories are causing you pain, maybe you should try a more creative solution?"

She turns to him now. "Magic, you mean?" She asks, a little sharper.

He shrugs. "No one said all magic had to be bad magic." He brushes a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "If it could help with your memories, for instance…"

She thinks on it a moment. "I suppose, I could ask Jo."

"It can't hurt." He replies, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She pushes him back so he lays down, and she curls into him, head laid on his chest. "S'ppose not."

"What did you dream of?"

"A man – he was inspecting me. Like I were an object – a jewel, but a tarnished one." She shivers. "I don't know what it all means, but I know whoever he was, he should be very worried. If I manage to remember a name…"

At least now she knows one thing for certain. She's missing more than just a few days of memories. In fact, put together with the fact the Queen had limped all the way back to Shipwreck after the battle, she realizes…she's missing at least a week.

"It is strange." Riley comes up to lean back against the rail the next evening, accompanying her at the helm when the majority of the crew is dismissed to get some sleep." Until I met you, I had never met a woman who wasn't buried in skirts and stays. Now I am on a pirate ship with two lady captains who traipse around in trousers as though it's perfectly natural."

Emily bristles a bit, scoffing. "Lady captains. Adrienne was one of those I think, once, but now it's just pretend. No ladies on this ship, Riley."

Riley rolls his eyes. "Well. I use the term a bit more loosely now, don't I?"

Emily sends a glance in his direction, amused. "On me?"

"Alright, I use it very loosely." He amends, laughter in his voice. "Anyway, how do you know Captain LaBelle? I don't recall seeing her but once before now."

"Captain – by the old gods, I'll never get used to hearing that in reference to her. Captain LaBelle." The surname of Adrienne's mother, Emily guesses. Her father's name would be too well known for Adrienne to take and use it for herself. "Sounds like utter madness to me, it does, and with that name." She rants a bit, shakes her head, sighs. "Adrienne was on a ship we took, a few years ago now, back when Ana was still captain of the old Sea's Queen. I wasn't even first mate at the time, Alex and I were just…" She stops short, quickly schooling her expression so Riley doesn't glimpse the pang that still shoots through her heart whenever she thinks of him. "Anyway, Adrienne was looking for her father, so Ana agreed to take her on as cook. She was good at that, though not much else at the time. Whether she's actually come so far since remains to be seen, in my humble opinion."

"Any particular reason why the two of you hate each other?" Riley asks, boldly curious, but then, she always allows him that when in private.

"Plenty of particular reasons, not a few of them rather petty if I'm honest, but," she shrugs, "if you're expecting anything more you shouldn't be making friends with pirates."

"Mmm, I should think I'm well aware of that by now." He replies, passive. "It's just, she doesn't seem so bad to me."

Emily glances at him, gaze a little more sharp than she intends to allow it to be. "That implies you've had a conversation with her proper enough to tell."

He hesitates a bit. "She joined the crew down in the galley at supper, just happened to sit next to me."

"Happened to?" Emily snorts. "I'm not sure that Adrienne LaBelle-Barbossa just 'happens' to do anything when it comes to boys she thinks she could charm. I'd watch out for her, Riley."

A pause as Riley studies her. "Oh." He says after a moment. "I see."

Another sharp glance at him. "See what?" She asks, tone lowering dangerously.

He doesn't take the warning. "Well. It was no secret that Sparrow was rather a womanizer. I suppose that all started with Captain LaBelle, then?"

Emily turns to him now, one hand falling away from the wheel to plant itself on her hip. "Riley Connelly, you cheeky bilge rat, if you keep that up I'll have you spending the next twenty four hours in the brig."

He rolls his eyes, but clears his throat and straightens up. "I know that tone. Suppose I'm sleeping with the crew tonight then?" She only glowers at him. He turns to go, but pauses at the steps leading down from the helm, turning back to her as though he just can't resist. "Mind, I know you well enough to know you only threaten when I've hit the nail on the head, as it were."

"Riley!"

"Goodnight, Captain." And with that, he beats a hasty retreat.

She glares after him, thinks of Alex, and can't help but to wonder if he's any better off for leaving than she too often feels for letting him.

~-~-~-~
Five Months Ago, Port Royal
~-~-~-~

The ship is so – small. Alex scowls at himself as he sizes the vessel up, one hand coming up the rub the back of his neck. He himself wouldn't be bothered by this. There's nothing about this easily-month-long journey that worries him in the slightest. He's a little uncertain on just what his future will hold where he's going, but his time with the Old Woman at the bakery has given him confidence that he'll be fine no matter where he ends up.

Of course, it helps that he has Imogene. In fact, she's the only reason this is possible for him. Her family is well known where they are headed. She says she'll do what she can for him, and this makes his outlook all the more optimistic overall.

So the point isn't him being bothered by the size of the ship. It's her. It's her in his head, always in his head with that infernal smirk and her beautiful laughter and the playful, impish glint in her eyes. It's imagining Emily standing next to him, hand on her hip and looking decidedly unimpressed. It's hearing her voice, that sultry alto. I knew you'd miss me. She mocks him. Me and the Queen. Our lady could get us there in half the time this ole piece of drift wood will. It'd feel even faster with all the fun we could be having along the way… And she'd be winking, leaving no room for doubt of just what kind of fun she means.

The kind of fun some part of him (the old him, the part he's trying hard to do away with) would like nothing more than to try on a certain blue-eyed china doll of a beauty, if he's very honest… But he stops himself short here, as he always does. Not with Miss Imogene. Miss Imogene doesn't care for him quite like that, he knows it, and as well she shouldn't. He wouldn't deserve any such thing from her. He wouldn't deserve her even considering it.

"Having second thoughts?" Another female voice, all-too-familiar now, startles him out of his reverie.

"What?" He blinks, and turns to Laurel Norrington, a light blush creeping up to color his cheeks as she raises a brow. "Oh, erm, no! I mean – I was just…"

"I don't believe I've ever heard you stutter so." She points out, sounding curious. "Have you ever traveled outside the Caribbean before? It is quite a journey."

"Yes. No! I mean…" He takes a breath, gathering his thoughts. "I have been, to England. But this feels different." He turns to stare back up at the ship. "Got no plans to come back this time, me. This is it."

A bit of a pause. "Is she worth it, do you think?"

"I'm..sorry?" He asks, a little befuddled now.

"Imogene." Laurel replies, firm. "Do you think it will be worth it, following her all the way up there?"

"Oh. Erm, not sure I'd say I'm really doin this for 'er, this was me plan from the start. Basically. Sort of." Laurel just raises a brow again. He deflates slowly, and huffs. "Aye, then. Fine. If ye must know, yes. Even if I can't be more than 'er friend, she is the kindest girl I 'ave ever had the privilege of knowin and I think I'd follow 'er anywhere just for that."

She nods, and there is an interesting amount of understanding behind her eyes. "She has that effect on everyone. As if she simply radiates goodness in a way that makes you believe the world we live in isn't all that bloody awful after all and for that you wish to always have her near."

Another pause. Alex opens his mouth, a million different questions flitting through his mind. But he doesn't know which one to start with. And none of them are things he thinks she'll be open to discussing, anyway. So he closes his mouth again, nods, then finally answers. "Yeah. S'ppose that sums it up rather nice."

Turning to him fully, Laurel fixes him with a hard stare, her green eyes turning piercing as she lowers her tone and leans in as far as she can get away with. "Take care of her. Her mother is pushing for a marriage. Now, Missus Ellsworth means well, of that I am sure, but Imogene has been so sheltered, I worry what she may do in an effort to please the old woman. I understand my advice may mean little, but keep working as hard as you have been. Perhaps, if you catch the right sort of attention from Imogene…"

Alex shakes his head. "That would take a miracle to work out, and I don't deserve one. I don't deserve 'er. Miss Norrington, if ye could only understand…"

"I believe I may have more understanding than you'd like to think." She says, a little softer. "But I also understand you're coming to care for her. And I know that if anyone does deserve a miracle, it is our Imogene. Perhaps, on balance, that will be enough for one to come about." A carriage rolls up, Imogene's bright eyes peering out from the window and a smile gracing her lips as the sky blue orbs land on Alex. Laurel steps back. "I wish you fair winds and safe travels, Master Teague." She offers him the slightest of curtsies. "Along with much luck."

"Thank ye kindly, Miss Norrington." He gives a slight bow in return and watches as Laurel goes to greet Imogene, shoulders back and chin up now, with scarce a lingering hint of the darker something he'd seen swirling behind her green eyes a moment ago.

Tucking their conversation away to ponder on it later, as it looks like he'll be having more than enough time on his hands to do so, he decides he'll stay out of the Ellsworth's way for now. Hitching the small leather bag full of his meager belongings higher on his shoulder, he pushes forward and onto the ship.

As it sails away a short time later, he doesn't look back. Not once.

~-~-~-~
Present Day, The Sea's Queen
~-~-~-~

The sun is shining bright as ever. The waters beneath them are calm and smooth. And aside from feeling a general, constant disquiet over her missing memories, Emily's feeling much better after a few days of being home. So why now, as she emerges topside, does she get the disturbing though vague feeling that something is…just, off?

Strolling further out on deck, she finds herself pausing a moment, though she's not quite sure why. The smell of the sea, so strong and fresh, and the warm sunshine on her skin, unhindered…it's not the first time she's found herself pausing to bask in it on some unknown impulse. Something to do with what happened over the weeks she can't remember? If she'd been locked up in some manner of cell all that time…

She doesn't want to think on it just now. More preoccupied with the feeling that all is not quite right, she makes her way up to the helm. Though they've no specific destination just yet, she's been of a mind to have them heading anywhere that will keep the Queen out of the Navy's way for the moment. That doesn't leave them too many options of where to go, but Adrienne had insisted she'd take care of that soon enough.

Back to things feeling off… Jo's at the helm, and not alone. Three members of the Queen's crew are hovering close by, looking rather fretful. Emily pauses halfway up the stairs, hesitating. She's only in time to catch Jo turning to them with just one hand still on the wheel, her expression downright thunderous.

"Hold your tongue," she snaps, gruffer than Emily's used to hearing from her, "or by the old gods, I'll have it…"

Not liking the sound of this, Emily clears her throat as she climbs the last few steps. She eyes the three men up as they stiffen, looking anywhere but at her. Jo's the one looking fretful now, having trailed off the moment her eyes landed on her captain. Emily places a hand on her hip. "Something amiss?" She asks the older woman.

Jo glances sharply at the three men she'd just been scolding. "Nothing at all, Captain. Bit of a misunderstanding, I think, is all." She turns fully to the men again, eyes hard. "Bunch of old hens, is all I see, clucking at me like you were just now. Back to work, all of you!"

They scramble to do as they're told. Two stop briefly to acknowledge Emily; the third only meets her eyes a moment as he slips right past her. She turns to eye him up as he goes.

"Care to tell me just what that was all about?" She asks Jo, turning slowly back to face the older woman.

Jo shakes her head, and looks as though she's trying to hold back her favorite scowl-grimace. "Nothing that's worth you being concerned, I expect, you've got enough to…"

"Miss Gibbs." Emily says, more the Captain, not liking the way the older woman is trying to dodge her. "That wasn't a question."

Jo mutters a bit under her breath. "Apologies, Captain. The boys are getting a little – it's just, we expected you to be a little more the worse for wear, long as you disappeared, and since you aren't, well. The boys get a little too, erm, creative sometimes."

A pause as Emily thinks on this, and then nods. "Well. Next time they decide they just can't contain this creativity, I want to hear about it." Making sure her tone leaves no room for argument. "Immediately."

Jo nods. "It's only those three have come to that point now, I think. Nothing to worry about."

She knows Jo means well, but Emily can't help but to worry anyway, if only just a little.

To spite having been sailing with Emily for few years now, and sparring with her for the past nine months of that time, Jo just isn't as over-graceful with a blade in her hand. Emily can see where it would be frustrating, but is, unashamedly, amused.

"Oh! Will you wipe that blasted grin of your face!" Jo grumbles, irritable, as she goes to retrieve her sword for the fourth time this practice session. They are in the hold, having cleared a space just big enough for their purposes, and Jo leans against a barrel to catch her breath. "I don't know what's so infuriating; the fact you can best me so quick, or the smirk on your lips as you do it."

Emily laughs, giving her sword a skillful twirl, playful. "Oh, come on Jo, it's all in good fun, and you are getting better. You couldn't hold me for that long when we started months ago, it's a wonder you haven't been hurt more often."

Jo huffs. "Our goddess has been kinder to me than she should have, this is me trying not to keep tempting fate."

A pause and Emily's smirk fades. "You were never so worried about that before. I wonder, is it fate you worry about, or a certain Captain who apparently managed to hit the wrong nerve with even you?"

Jo looks surprised; Emily's caught her off guard. She is getting good at doing that to people. "Why would you think – we've not heard word of him in months."

"Just, I was thinking. You only came to me wanting to practice the first time after we sent Andrews on his way that day. And if I were wrong, you wouldn't have so easily guessed who I was talking about."

"Well, I…hate you." Jo grumbles in response, sending Emily a glare.

Emily laughs again. "You couldn't if you tried!"

"Just sometimes." Jo amends.

Emily rolls her eyes. "Fair enough. Anyway, if it's a crack at Andrews you're hoping to get someday, you may not be as far off as you think from winning that battle. You're so tiny you could dodge a man Andrews' size easy, you know, and he'd be no match for you where foot works concerned, being you're so much lighter too." The smirk plants itself on her lips gain as she brings up her own sword as though inspecting it. "And as for besting me, my father's the only one who's managed that since I was small, I'll have you know."

"You talk big, Capitaine." A new voice reaches the women's ears, a man's tenor. "I would like to see you back up such claims."

Emily turns, a little startled, a scowl contorting her features as she spots the man hovering in the doorway to the room they're in. It's one of Adrienne's men, her first mate, a Frenchman named Louis with an accent thick as his captain's. She glares at him. "If you wished to watch, you might've asked."

"Forgive me, Capitaine Turner. My Capitaine is looking for you up on deck, and sent me to search for you. I did not want to interrupt you. You are not bad with that lovely blade of yours, I cannot deny."

She sheathes said blade and crosses the room, Jo following. "So are you and the rest of your Captain's," she tries not to cringe saying it, she really does, "men, I'd wager, or else you wouldn't be here."

"And neither would my Capitaine. This is true." He concedes with a slight bow. "But I suspect any modesty you have to show is quite false."

"It's not that I think your men any less competent than I implied they must be." Emily replies amiably. "I just know what I myself am capable of."

"Oh?" The Frenchman smirks a bit. "And what do you think you are capable of."

Emily glances back at Jo, who now looks amused as she crosses her arms, then turns back to Louis. "I've been practicing like that just about every day since my father first put a sword in my hand at nine years old." She replies. "If I'm honest, I'd be willing to bet I could be half drunk and still beat all your men. In a fair fight, of course – which is to say, swords only."

"Of course." He seems to look her over a bit, calculating. "An interesting way to put it, Capitaine. I think my men would quite enjoy putting you to the test."

A pause, and Emily chuckles. "Perhaps I'll bring it up to your Captain. I'd be interested to see what stakes she could come up with."

"Perhaps you should do that." He sweeps out of the way, gesturing for her to go first with one hand held out.

Well, alright, Emily thinks as she comes to lean in the doorway to the stateroom she'd had little use for until now. So maybe Adrienne does have at least half a clue what she's doing. She certainly looks knowledgeable enough, hovering over the maps Emily had put at her disposal. Emily still can't imagine her captaining a ship, but she supposes this at least puts the older woman half a step closer.

"I believe I have managed to chart our course out." Adrienne looks up. "Assuming, of course, that this compass of yours does what you say it does."

"Believe me, it does just what I said it does."

"Then we are headed towards Spain. I thought you would appreciate being informed before our course was changed."

Emily crosses her arms, feeling abruptly wary. It's never been like Adrienne to be any kind of courteous. She just nods, though. "I'm a bit impressed, if I'm honest."

Adrienne throws her shoulders back, haughty. "I can assure you, Emily –"

"Peg." She snaps, automatic, with enough vehemence to startle Adrienne. At the older woman's blank stare, Emily relaxes, remembering how long it's been since she last saw Adrienne. "Only my Papa calls me Emily." She elaborates, forcing it to sound more flippant. "Sounds weird hearing it from anyone else, anymore. Call me Peg or Turner or – just about anything else."

"Mes excuses." The older woman eyes her, her face a question mark, but she apparently decides not to ask. "As I was saying," she resumes slowly, "I can assure you I am not totally incompetent as I assume you think."

"I don't think you're totally incompetent." Emily crosses the room to glance at the maps spread out on the long table in the center of the room. "Sounds like you'd know your way around a chartroom." Adrienne scowls, glaring now. Emily shrugs and tries to look innocent. "Anyway, looks like we've got a bit of a journey ahead of us."

There's a pause. Adrienne's scowl fades some as she studies Emily. "Why are you helping me?" Emily raises her eyebrows. Adrienne goes on, hasty. "Not that I am – ungrateful, but you could just as easily drop my men and I off at Tortuga and… how would you put it? 'Call us square'?"

Emily plants a hand on her hip. "Perhaps I'm just feeling generous." The scowl is back again. Emily snorts. "You know, that pretty face of yours won't last so much longer, I expect, you keep making faces like that."

"Mon dieu. I don't think I've ever met anyone who tried my patience as you do."

"Is that saying something? I aim to please."

Adrienne huffs now, rolling her eyes and muttering more French. "You haven't answered my question!"

"Erm…what was the question exactly?" She's not really dodging with a purpose anymore, she's just enjoying how exasperated the Frenchwoman is. When did this get to be so much fun?

Adrienne pauses and shakes her head and appears to take a breath. "I know better than to think you would help me for nothing."

"That little story you told me about what's meant to be waiting on this island of yours, did you stop to think that'll be reward enough? If we get there and it really is full of these lovely gems, then I'll call it all square, and happily." A pause. Adrienne looks even more troubled now. "What?" Emily asks.

Adrienne waves her off. "Nothing of importance."

Emily studies her a moment, thinks about prying, decides she doesn't care enough. "You know, that first mate of yours gave me an interesting idea earlier." She brings up instead, turning to lean back against the table, arms crossed lazily. "He caught me n' Jo sparring down in the hold. Seems to think your boys might enjoy putting my skills to the test. I told him I could probably be half drunk and beat them all, which might have something to do with it, but I thought it could be good fun."

Adrienne thinks on this a moment. "Oui. That it could be. I will admit, my boys are not the most skilled with their swords. You have seen them. They win because they are strong. It would be interesting to watch them go against one who knows what she is doing. I highly suspect they would all lose, some way or other."

Emily just can't let this one go. "I'm – I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" She replies, smug. "I thought I just heard you pay me a compliment."

Adrienne juts out her chin, haughty again. "Je parle la simple vérité. Unlike you, I am not above giving credit where it is due. I have seen them fight, and I have seen you fight. You know better what you are doing because you are smaller and you must."

Emily shrugs at this. "True. Well, what say you to a bit of a wager then?" She claps her hands, a little excited now. "I'm sure we can come up with something interesting."

"Of that I have no doubt." Adrienne eyes Emily a bit. "But I have a condition first."

"Name it." Emily replies, up for anything.

"Louis has told me he spotted you practicing with your left hand."

Emily winces a bit at this; she'd been hoping to keep this new trick a secret. She nods, grudging. "My right arm was hurt some six months ago, grazed by a bullet as a Navy ship came to help a little merchant fight us off. I couldn't use it, so I've been trying to teach myself not to have to."

Adrienne nods. "My condition is you use your left hand, then, at least to start. Even the odds for my men, perhaps?"

"Alright. I beat any of your crew that wants to try me, starting left handed and only switching if they prove enough of a challenge, and you play nice with Jo for the rest of this venture. I don't much fancy having to keep an eye on you and her all the way to Spain, I've got a ship to run, you know."

"Done." Adrienne replies, a little too readily.

Emily decides to ignore the soft warnings going off in her head. There's only so much the older woman could be up to, and Emily's not over worried about any of it. "And you?"

"If you do not beat my crew," Adrienne hesitates, then shrugs as though careless. "Well, I am not at all certain you won't. I will come up with something later, on the off chance this should be the case."

It's not like Adrienne to be so careless, either. But what could she be up to? She has no ship and the equivalent of barely half a crew. Perhaps Emily is simply paranoid? Deciding on a tentative show of good faith, she holds out her hand, decisive. "Deal, then."

Adrienne's hand snakes up to play with a necklace around her neck, a small medallion, some sort of symbol in the middle Emily's never seen before. With a sudden grin, she snakes out her other hand to clasp Emily's.

Emily decides she likes it better when the Frenchwoman is scowling.

:)

French:
Tout se est passé si vite ... – It all happened so fast…
Mes excuses. – My apologies.
Je parle la simple vérité. – I speak the simple truth.