"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Deacon was walking them back to the docks after picking Dea up from the hospital. She had finally been discharged after a couple weeks of bedrest and was deemed fit to return to duty. He still wanted to make sure she was better, so he paid careful attention to the way she walked. She was practically back to normal, but he had been staring at her for several minutes to come to this conclusion.

"Like what?"

"You've been doing this weird thing with your eyes."

"..Just making sure you're okay." He moved his attention forward. "The crew missed you greatly. They're going to be quite happy that you're back."

"I missed them," She sighed sadly. "Being stuck in that room was kind of lonely. I'm glad I won't have to deal with that again."

He knocked on some nearby wood and she laughed. He thought back to the amount of time he'd spent without her. His chest felt tight just remembering about it.

'Lonely indeed,' he thought to himself.

When they boarded their ship, Dea was welcomed by several voices and pairs of arms reaching out for her. She was surrounded by their crew and urged into a collective embrace, engulfed in the warmth of their dragoon. He watched pleasantly from the side as she soon broke apart from them.

"I trust Deacon has kept you all in line?" She asked.

They nodded eagerly. She hadn't been expecting anything less. She playfully tapped the Emissary's arm, who tsked in return. After checking in on their crew, the two captains dismissed their officers and prepared the ship for takeoff. Dea didn't know where they were going, but she intended on asking about it as soon as possible. She gave the spymaster a nod to start their departure - only for him to hesitate.

"Would you like to steer the ship?" He offered.

Her green eyes widened in surprise. Her expression changed to skepticism. "...Really?"

He took a few steps back and motioned with his hand. She looked at him twice before moving forward and clenching the wood. She shifted under his attention and glanced at him.

"You've never offered me to sail before."

"Consider it a present for not dying." She snorted at that before looking back at the wheel. Her posture was rigid as she drummed her fingers along the handles. "...You *do* know how to do it, don't you?"

"...I don't have much practice with it." She confessed. Her arms tensed as she looked away. He knew this was a touchy subject and moved to her side with careful precision.

"It's not that difficult. What you're doing is turning the rudder to obstruct the ship's stream. When you do that, the stern moves the opposite."

"... Sí , but that doesn't really help me..?"

Deacon motioned for the crew to set sail. Their ship started with a jolt and Dea panicked. Her anxiety was eased when her partner grabbed the wheel and guided them away from the docks. His hand moved just beside hers and she heard his voice from above her.

"Watch the stern behind us. It will move the opposite way from the wheel."

She turned around to check, but Deacon was right behind her, caging her in between himself and the wheel. Her heart was racing at their close proximity. He noticed he was obstructing her view and moved out of her way. She attempted to calm herself with a deep breath. She saw the stern was now to her right, then watched as he turned the wheel to the left.

"See?" He asked. She nodded slowly.

"..Let me try."

He moved aside. He directed her to keep it straight and she followed his instruction. She had never been allowed to captain a Monquistan vessel, so she missed the opportunity to sail her own ship. She completed a small test while enlisting for the Armada, but the experience was nothing like this. The Executioner was bigger and more elaborate than the test ships lended to them…

Something clutched her hand and she jumped in surprise. Deacon was removing her grip from the wheel and opening her palm, which he slid his compass into. It was the most beautiful tool she'd ever seen. Was everything in the Armada this detailed? She gawked at the device and was brought back to reality when Deacon tapped it with his finger.

"Start heading east. We'll be arriving at Aquila."

"Speaking of which…" She paused to steer carefully, then looked at him. "What's our plan of action? Are we still doing what we discussed before?"

"We'll get this done sooner than anticipated. I don't want to jump into anything dangerous."

"...Are you worried about me?"

His eyes snapped over to her at the question. She looked a little amused. He let the silence linger before he sighed.

"I would rather not have you injured again, if that's what you mean."

"What makes you think I would be the hurt one? You're not made of steel, espía."

"No, but I have much more experience than you. It's been a long time since I've gotten hurt in my line of work."

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms. His hand shot out to grip the wheel out of instinct. She was too busy eying him to really care. "Tell me, Mr. Invincible. When was the last time you were wounded?"

"If you really want to know, I had both my wrists broken from a run-in with a…rather strong criminal." He shifted his gaze in shame. "But I'm extremely cautious otherwise. I always wear a bulletproof vest."

"-Under all *that*!?" She exclaimed, motioning to his cape, two coats, and layer of clothes. "How in the Spiral have you not had a heat stroke?"

He met her inquiry with smug silence. She shot him a look and hastily took back control. She returned her focus to steering the ship and making sure they were headed the right way. With his compass, it was easy. It was only when they started heading towards the familiar whirlpool that Deacon moved to take the wheel from her. She allowed him - but with some reluctance. She didn't want to stop so soon.

"It's different when you're in a stormgate," He explained, slipping his compass in his pocket and taking a tight hold of the wheel.

"But I've watched you sail through these several times," She argued.

"It's not as easy as it looks." He could sense her upset look and exhaled deeply. "Dea, I promise I will let you practice when you've sailed some more."

"Fine…How do you do it, exactly?"

"Track the storm and head where the waves are shallow and the winds are low," He recited. "Keep the bow towards the waves and momentum forward. Luckily, the storms in these gates last only a minute. But they're difficult all the same."

She bit her lip. That did sound a little hard to do. She'd seen him maneuver through these with ease. Anyone would think from watching him that it was a walk in the park. But he sailed all the time, so he had plenty of experience. She felt shameful for having so little practice in comparison.

Deacon expertly sailed through the stormgate and they arrived timely in Aquila. Their business here was - in his own words - 'not complicated', on the account that their target was already apprehended and was merely waiting to be picked up. When Dea asked how this had been done, he claimed that he "knew people". This confused her, but it didn't matter. They had their criminal. All they needed to do was get them and then leave.

She watched with attentive eyes as they docked at one of the cities and took an eager look around. He noticed her perked up posture and made a comment once they were moving on land.

"Have you ever been here before?"

"Aquila? No." She shook her head. "I've never traveled that much, actually."

"And why is that?"

"…I couldn't." She turned her head to admire the mountains. "Valencia's the fanciest place I've ever been to."

"Aquila is wonderful. I like coming here for the food and the literature. I've made quite a bit of friends in these parts."

She quirked her eyebrow under her mask. "-So, is it one of your 'friends' that's holding our prisoner?"

"Yes, but I plan on taking a small detour on the way there. It won't take long."

"A detour? But, you didn't mention anything about-"

"-Don't bother asking. Just wait."

Dea was puzzled. If she didn't know any better, she would think Deacon was trying to give her a headache, now that he safely could. She looked at the rest of her crew and gestured helplessly to them, but none were willing to expose their captain's secret. She groaned and rolled her eyes, already predicting the smirk was hidden on her partner's face.

They hiked through the mountains until they eventually reached a village with beautiful architecture, surrounded by a breathtaking view. Dea followed her men and women while looking around in awe. There were tourists currently taking a walking tour of the area, but they were ignored as Deacon strolled past them and led his own crew through the sights.

She was taken by surprise when he began to tell them about the significance of what they were looking at, as well as some historical facts about the buildings. It sounded like he was reading out of a textbook, reciting everything clearly and without a pause. If Dea didn't know any better, she would mistake him for a tour leader. He provided more detail than what the nearby groups were listening to. He was also clearly well-versed in his knowledge of Greek mythology and culture.

She knew he was an educated man, but witnessing it in person was something else. Her face felt hot, but she blamed that on the weather. She clearly wasn't wearing appropriate clothing. Why hadn't he told her he was bringing them somewhere like this? She would've been more than happy to change out of her uniform into something more...accommodating.

They stopped at a beach, where a few members left to dip their feet into the water. She marveled at the pink-colored sand and clear blue sky above them. Deacon had stopped beside her and planted his cane on the beach, side-glancing at her and tapping his fingers. Almost anxiously.

"Do you like it?" He finally asked. She turned her head but quickly flicked her eyes down.

"I love it. But why did you take us here?"

"The crew wanted to do something special for you. Since we're a little time-crunched, I thought a scenic walk through Aquila would… suffice."

He appeared a little nervous, adjusting his cuffs to avoid looking at her. She got some pleasure out of it and wanted to tease him about this whole thing, but she couldn't. It really was a gorgeous place and it served as her true first tour in another world. She thought Cool Ranch was interesting, but they were there for business and it was nowhere near as magnificent as this village. She had to thank him - but when she opened her mouth, a knot twisted itself in her stomach and the words had a hard time properly leaving her tongue.

She chose to ask something else instead. "How do you know so much about this area?"

"I've read books about its cities and sights. I just haven't had the time to visit them all myself. Most of the papyrus I keep in our bookshelf are collections from Aquila."

She fidgeted with her gloves. "It's…neat how you know all of this stuff. I wish I was as educated as you."

He stared at her and she was starting to feel nervous. Why did this feel so difficult? It wasn't the first time she complimented him! She wanted to stomp the butterflies that were roaming around in her stomach.

"-Really? You're not going to make fun of me for it?"

"No. Why would I do that?" She snapped. She felt bad for it and withdrew herself. "I like how you're smart. It would be awful to work with someone stupid, that's all."

"Well, I *am* an Elite." He reminded her.

"And what are the qualifications for that? I assume the bar is pretty low."

"...Ah. I knew that was coming."

She nearly shrunk in on herself for that comment, had he not laughed at it. It beckoned her to join in, giggling along his deep chuckles. It was then she realized something strange. It didn't feel like she was in the middle of work, rather, she was spending quality time with a good friend. Then it dawned on her. When had she ever considered Deacon as a friend? Some would call their situation work partners, possibly even forced-roommates, but it was never unpleasant to her. There was nothing but mutual respect and an understanding shared between them.

He was the only person she'd grown closest to in these few months. Maybe he WAS a friend. One she could trust to respect her boundaries. Perhaps, if time served them well, she would share more of herself with him.

…The smile fell from her lips as she stared at him.

If time was good, maybe she could learn more about *him*, too…

. . .

. . .

A couple of hours were spent at that beach. Dea eventually shed her jacket and joined in with the others, laughing and splashing along with them. Deacon refused to set foot anywhere near the water and opted for watching from afar. She huffed in frustration. Would it kill him to have some fun? He rarely joined in on the crew's game nights and wouldn't stay for long when they celebrated in a tavern. He was always sitting elsewhere, indulging in a book or writing something. She'd only ever seen him working and never actually caught him enjoying himself, beyond the time he played the piano in that saloon.

…Would giving the crew a tour count as 'fun' to him? That was a little lame, in her opinion.

When they moved on, it was nearing sunset and it took a good hour until they reached a decently-sized home a couple villages away. This must be the place where their desired lawbreaker was held, judging by Deacon's urgency to reach it. When they arrived at the door, they were answered by a large man wearing a blue chlamys and a laurel crown. He greeted his friend kindly and allowed the rest of the group inside. Dea looked around in an attempt to find what they came for, but was greeted by a beautiful interior and couldn't help admiring things for the sake of it. While she was preoccupied, Deacon and his friend exchanged a brief conversation in Greek before the rest of his company was addressed.

"Ah, I see! You came all this way, you must be hungry. Please, have a seat and I will serve you the meal I prepared."

This caught Dea's attention. She spun around and began approaching the two while Deacon rested his cane against the wall.

"You prepared something?" He asked. His friend nodded.

"Of course, I would not be a good host if my company was in need of nourishment- Oh ! Who is this?"

Dea was in his sight when she walked up behind Deacon. He looked over his shoulder and relaxed, moving aside to introduce them. He gestured to his co-captain, then to his friend. "Theodore, this is my new partner, Dea."

She offered her gloved hand and Theodore shook it kindly, offering her a polite smile. He seemed like a good man. He had good taste in interior decorating and was willing to hold their prisoner for them. If Deacon trusted him…then she did, too. He had good judgment as far as she was concerned.

"I hope it isn't rude if I don't eat tonight, but-"

"-Right! Your mask. I assume you don't want to take it off." He clasped his hands together as he observed her face. She felt a little embarrassed that the reason had been guessed so quickly. A thought must've occurred to him, as he held up a finger and dismissed himself from the room.

In his absence, Dea looked at Deacon, who shrugged in return. They had just enough time to remove their shoes before Theodore shortly returned with something in his hand. A bauta mask from Valencia itself..! She could tell from the quality of the item as he placed it in her hands.

He turned to Deacon and rubbed the back of his head in shame. "I hope you don't mind, my friend, but your appearance always fascinated me. I took a trip to your homeland and picked one up for myself…I'm afraid it doesn't suit me well, but I'm going to start a collection of your beautiful masks."

He moved to Dea and nodded at her. "You're free to wear it while we eat. I would hate for you to miss such a delicious meal, and valuable time with your people."

She was left speechless at the sudden thoughtfulness. Deacon looked surprised as well. She recovered from her shock when Theodore directed her someplace she could safely exchange her mask. When she took her usual one off, she ended up staring at the large crack that dominated its once beautiful features.

…She'd almost forgotten about it, what with such a good day she'd been having. She cringed realizing that everyone had been looking at this the entire time. She wondered how Deacon must've felt being so close to someone with a ruined mask. It was frowned upon in the Armada as it was, but she couldn't imagine the expectations the Elite held as well. It made her feel self-conscious, and she prayed her new mask from Queen would be arriving soon.

She kept it close while slipping on the bauta. When she looked up in the mirror, she nearly stumbled backwards in surprise. For a split second there, she almost thought Deacon was in the room! She quietly swore at herself for losing her cool and buttoned her zendale back on.

She must've spent quite some time in there, because when she left, she could hear the sound of chatter and clinking utensils coming from the dining room. She scolded herself for taking so long and wasted no time rushing towards the noise. When she stepped in, she found her crew seated at a long table, unmasked and talking with each other, with Theodore at the head and Deacon right beside him. She noticed the empty space next to her co-captain and her heart began to beat nervously at the idea of sitting so close to him.

..What was the big deal? They shared a room, for Spiral's sake!

She took a deep breath, shaking off her jitters and approaching her seat. She tried to make her arrival as discreetly as possible, slipping onto the cushion and sitting up straight. Theodore noticed her presence and clapped his hands excitedly.

"Marvelous! Now, we can dig in! We're starting with horiatiki salad, a little bit of saganaki, then a great bowl of giouvetsi."

"You really needn't go all out like this," Deacon replied, grabbing his fork. "We were only stopping by."

"-But you have so many mouths to feed! Besides, you know how I love to cook for my guests. Remember all the tiropitakia we've shared?"

"...What was any of what he just said?" Dea whispered.

When Deacon turned to reply to her, he froze in his seat and stared at her face with wide blue eyes. She didn't know what warranted such a reaction until she noticed his eyes were repeatedly scanning her new mask.

She feigned offense. "You don't like my new look?"

"...It's a little odd," He responded, fixing his posture, but not wiping the surprise from his eyes. "Almost like I'm looking at a doppelganger."

"But I looked like you before."

"Yes, except...the mask."

"Don't other Armada officers wear bautas? Like your spies?"

"...This is different." He argued. Before she could refute, he remembered her question and struggled shifting his focus. "...Ah, we're having a salad, some fried cheese, and a stew."

She tore her attention away from him to the petite bowl sitting before her. The rest of their company was already eating and complimenting the salad. She took her fork and hesitated before trying some. It was nothing like the usual salad she was accustomed to, but she loved the new flavors. She offered her praise to Theodore, who was relieved and wasted no time bringing out the saganaki when they were done.

As Dea was digging into this new cuisine, she overheard the conversation next to her. Deacon and Theodore were speaking in Greek again. She was overcome with fascination and attempted to eavesdrop despite having no clue what they were talking about. She ended up doing this quite a few times during dinner - enjoying the food and the words around her. She forgot all about what had happened to her and wished she could enjoy this for just a little longer.

Theodore returned with small cups after they finished the stew. It was a baklava sundae - she was amazed with how it tasted. It easily landed itself as one of her favorite desserts of all time. When all was said and done, they were finally brought to their desired escapee - who had been securely hidden in Theodore's basement. Deacon did a thorough job making sure their departure looked as natural as possible, and kept their criminal out of sight.

Dea was walking alongside him on their trip back to their ship. She spent the first few minutes admiring the night sky before sighing longingly. "I miss that bauta. It was refreshing to eat without having to worry about my face."

"That's what they're made for - to be convenient and secretive." Deacon agreed.

She turned to him and grinned. "You should let me use yours, then."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not? I bet you have more than one."

"...Your point?"

"Let me borrow one so I can eat with you, espía. It was…pleasant, not being alone for dinner." She didn't have the courage to face him anymore, and shifted her gaze elsewhere. "..You think so too, right?"

He was still looking at her. Something in his chest burned pleasantly. "If you promise not to ruin it, then I might let you have one."

She lowered her head. She was feeling warm and giddy from today. She wished they could do this more often, rather than working all the time. They could spare some free time, couldn't they? "-It'll be for the best. This crack is starting to bother me…"

His look changed to something sentimental. He decided to focus on something more positive. "Did you have a good time..?"

"The trip was beautiful and your friend was nice." She paused, thinking of something. "Had you planned that dinner all along..?"

"No, I told Theodore I'd have my crew with me and he must've gone all out. We were going to have some local takeout, anyway."

"I should find some way to thank the crew. It was awfully nice of them to want this for me."

Deacon was about to mention that he played a big part in planning this little trip, but held his tongue. She was happy and that was what mattered. He reached for something he'd been hiding behind his cape and pulled out a bottle of malagousia. Dea's green eyes lit up at the sight.

"Theodore handed this to me before we left. This should be a nice gift for them, if you think we should indulge tonight."

She didn't hesitate. "Absolutamente."

The crew had a good time, officially welcoming Dea back with a small celebration of their own. She was thankful for everything and had no trouble expressing it. They enjoyed a glass of wine and played a game together - which, to Dea's surprise, even Deacon participated in. She excused herself when she started feeling exhausted and chose to retire for the night.

She returned to the cabin and realized she was the only one there. Deacon had left sometime earlier - she assumed he was taking one of his smoke breaks on the above deck. The place looked spotless and all of her belongings were left untouched. She didn't expect anything else, really, Deacon was organized and liked to keep things that way. The only difference she found was that her bed was neatly made and the sheets had been recently cleaned. She was grateful for that…she'd have to thank him when he came back.

She yawned and changed into her nightwear, ready to pass out then and there before something caught her attention. When she yanked back the privacy sheet, she found a book propped open on the desk. She assumed it was one of Deacon's novels he'd been reading that he must have forgotten to close. Something compelled her to get a closer look at it.

When her eyes began skimming the pages, she quickly realized it was Deacon's journal he regularly wrote in. Her breath hitched in her throat and she looked around again. She was still alone in the room…and the journal was still sitting there, completely opened.

Dea bit her lip before slowly grabbing the item from the desk and reading what had been recently written.

Her heart soon stopped.