"- Che piacere ! I win. Are you sure you don't want to play something else?"

Dea furrowed her eyebrows together as she looked at Deacon's empty hand, then glanced back to the cards still pinched between her thumbs and forefingers. She was hoping to win this game, but it was inevitable her partner would claim victory after the winning streak he's had this past hour. She threw down her cards and sat back in her seat, crossing her arms in mock tantrum.

"I think you're cheating. Who wins these many games of crazy eights!?"

He cleaned up the table. She was sure he was smirking under his bauta mask. He gathered the cards and shuffled them again. She could tell he was an experienced player with how quickly and efficiently he made his bridge finishes. She was more surprised that his gloves didn't get in the way of doing it.

He paused before dealing their share. "What about blackjack? I don't think we've played that one yet."

"If you promise not to hide your cards in your sleeve anymore."

"Fine. To prove you're a sore loser, I'll take my jacket off."

Deacon stood to his feet and shrugged off his outer jacket, hanging the blue accessory on the back of his chair. This got rid of those bulky, black cuffs she was so suspicious of. He had a habit of hiding his pistol in them, so what was the exception of a few playing cards? She was somewhat pleased that none had flown out of his pockets. He sat across from her and dealt the cards for their new game.

As they got into the swing of things, Dea fell into a habit of eying him when he wasn't looking. It wasn't often she got to see him without his cape or even wearing fewer clothes like this…he wasn't one to linger in his nightwear, so she never got a good look at him otherwise. Her thoughts returned to that disguise he'd been wearing back in Cool Ranch. She bit her lip at the memory. She wished she could see him in something like that again.

Her mind wandered and she made a mistake in her next play. She swore at herself as she corrected her cards, flushing under her mask when Deacon tilted his head at her.

"Something on your mind?"

Her green eyes met with his inquisitive ones. She doubted he caught her staring, but it was obvious something was amiss. She exhaled slowly, thinking of how to change subjects so he wouldn't know she'd been secretly ogling him.

"I was thinking of what good mood you must be in, to want to play some games with me. You usually don't. "

He sat up straight and lifted his head. "-I am in a good mood."

"Hmm. Read a good book lately?"

"Even better. We're nearly done with our mission, Dea. We only have a few more fugitives to catch, then this operation will finally be over."

A feeling of dread washed over her at this news. She bowed her head to hide her reaction. Of course he would be happy that this was all nearly over - it was like a punishment to him, having to track down his lost convicts with some unwanted help. But in her eyes, they'd finally been making progress with each other…they were spending more time together, learning more things about one another…Not to mention this had been her temporary promotion, and when it was all over with, she'd be reduced down to her prior position in the Armada.

..Which wasn't anything impressive.

Just the thought made her sigh deeply. She couldn't stop herself from doing this, earning Deacon's concern.

"Are you alright..?"

"I'm fine. Just…" She blew some air from her lips and pinched the bridge of the nose on her mask. This was a topic she wanted to avoid, but she'd have to address it eventually. "Thinking about what I'm going to do after this.."

His eyes were trained on her. His attention moved to his cards before deciding that the game wasn't nearly as important as the subject at hand. "-You're going to be demoted, aren't you?"

"Well, 'demoted' is a harsh word…" She sucked at her teeth. "More like, back to what I was already doing…which was cleaning the cannons and stocking ammunition."

Silence hung in the room as she begrudgingly made her turn. Deacon was slow to make his play as well, thinking deeply on their conversation. She was feeling cold from this realization, wishing that things were different and she wouldn't have to worry about losing everything she'd been given.

"You probably won't like this idea, but-" His tone made her look up from the table. She held her breath as she waited for his next words. "..I could pull some strings and have you work for me."

She curled her lips in amusement. "Why? So we could get sick of each other?"

"Well, you know how I like my coffee, so you would make an excellent first-mate."

She rolled her eyes at his joke. If she took the opportunity to work for Deacon…it would feel strange having him be her superior, instead of the equal position they had now. It was a miracle she'd even been promoted to an alike status to an Elite to begin with.

'It wouldn't mean he has an advantage over me,' Dea sternly told herself, crushing the worrying feeling she had with the prospect.

"Things would be going back to normal for you, wouldn't it?" She asked, idly fidgeting with the table cloth. Her chest felt tight. "Back to working by yourself, I mean."

Unbeknownst to her, the spymaster's lips fell . No. Things would not be normal. He would be sailing in complete silence instead of listening to her beautiful voice. Sleeping in an empty cabin without the hint of her perfume. Drawing up maps without her little notes in his margins. He wouldn't be seeing her again, and that made him feel…out of sorts.

He clenched his hands trying to cope with this reality. How surprising that this woman would hold such a tight grip over him. To suddenly step into his life and introduce him to a routine of comfort and companionship; to change things in a way that he always wanted.

He'd been so lonely before. He thought he was simply prioritizing his work before his personal life, but…god, he craved intimacy. A friend. A partner…* anything *. He would be stuck with his soldiers and spies again, but they didn't fulfill him like she did. No one would.

Her voice snapped him out of it. "Deacon?"

He looked up and noticed she was waiting on him to play his turn. He mumbled an apology before grabbing his card. She looked away from him sadly.

"...Sorry if I ruined your good mood."

"You didn't. I suppose I wasn't as thrilled as I thought I was."

"Why wouldn't you be? This is your mission, espía . You'll finally be done. I'm honored to have helped you."

His breath hissed through his teeth. She had no reason to be saying this so far in advance. "Dea-"

"You won't have me nagging you around anymore, telling you how to do things. You'll be on your own again-"

"Stop." His voice was firm. It made her hush down immediately. "You keep insisting your company is some god-awful thing to me, but it isn't. How I acted before doesn't reflect how I feel now."

She froze in her seat. She began tugging at her gloves nervously, attempting to process this information. She tried to tease him, but the crack in her voice gave her away. "Don't tell me you actually LIKE me being around..?"

"More than you think I do, clearly." She was still awestruck and he was getting nervous by it, so he gestured to their game. "Let's finish this up so we can get back to work."

She nodded, playing her hand and finishing up their game of blackjack. They weren't talkative this time around. Dea's mind was preoccupied with the fact that Deacon had just admitted to enjoying her company, and even offered to have her around longer. The Emissary himself felt a mixture of emotions, the most prominent being disappointment from the eventual wrap-up of their mission, and the inevitable time when they would have to go their separate ways.

He was fidgety the rest of that day, unable to keep his hands still. When he was at the captain's wheel, he occupied himself by caressing the underside of his compass and adjusting the collar of his cape. When he was roaming around the ship, he constantly shifted his grip on his cane and tapped it more on the floorboards than was necessary. He grew aggravated with this restless behavior and moved into the cabin, where he sat on his bed and attempted to read a book to get his mind off of things.

His left hand kept reaching into the pocket that held his pack of cigarettes. Each time he caught himself doing this, he had to physically stop himself. It was a habit he was trying to break * again *. Each attempt felt harder than the last, and this particular subject was frying his nerves. It took an immeasurable amount of self-control to not break his newly-made promise.

He heard the familiar steps of Dea's boots and looked up to see her in front of him. She crossed her arms and looked at him with knowing, emerald-colored eyes. He had to look away, lest his feelings get worse and he would succumb to his urge to smoke.

"Come on," She urged, tapping her foot impatiently. "Tell me what's going on with you."

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked, pretending to read.

"You're going through withdrawal. You should talk to me when this happens, remember?"

A few seconds passed before he sighed and shut his book. He threw it behind himself carelessly and brought his gloved hands under his bauta to rub his face. Being worked up like this was making him tired. Dea hesitated before sitting beside him on the mattress, keeping some space between them but also letting him know she was there.

"Is there something stressing you out, espía?"

He didn't know what to say. Confess to Dea that he's going to miss her when she's gone? That he hates the idea of being separated from her? So much so, that it's been driving him mad all day, to regret the time where they'll have to say goodbye to each other?

It was pathetic.

Before he could say anything, she reached into her dress' pocket and offered him a stick of gum. He looked at the piece before taking it and unwrapping it. Popping it in his mouth, he recognized the taste of mint. His shoulders relaxed as he chewed on it. He hadn't indulged in one of these in an awfully long time.

"I didn't know if you had some already, so I grabbed a pack to carry with me. You can ask for one if you ever need it."

"...Thank you." He could tell she was pleased by his gratitude. It made him feel a bit more comfortable to speak. "Have you considered my offer? About working with me after this?"

She blinked in surprise. She began to idly kick her boots, watching them move with lowered eyelids. "I didn't think you were serious about it."

"I am; it wouldn't be hard to make it happen."

"But.." She chewed at her lip, clearly conflicted. "Why would you still want to work with me? Things haven't been that smooth. We had that fight on our first mission, then I was nearly killed in Cool Ranch-"

"-That's all in the past and we've learned from it. The truth is, you're one of the most competent women I've worked with, and that's saying something because I know a lot of people."

His words made her feel happy and confident. It was the first time a man had made her truly feel this way. "..And you like my company?" She asked sheepishly.

He let that question linger before he replied. "I do. Whether or not you like mine determines your answer."

She entwined her fingers together, tapping them on her knuckles as she leaned back with a dramatic breath. "Sometimes you can be a pain, but I've learned to live with it."

She turned to him with bright eyes. He could tell she was smiling from the way she lifted her chin. She looked away and returned her hands to her lap. Her mood had fallen and the confidence briefly left him.

"I'll have to think about it." She sounded like she wanted to say more, but hesitated to do so. He wished she would voice her thoughts, but respected that she couldn't.

"Just let me know when you make up your mind. We probably have a couple more weeks to sit on it."

She nodded along, her eyes fixated on her hands. She was smoothing her palms over her gloves. After a second, she looked up and asked, "-So what was bothering you?"

"I'd rather not talk about it…"

"But if we don't, you're still going to stress over it." She countered. She scooted a bit closer and leaned forward. "I promise not to tell anybody if it's embarrassing."

"I still think you would tease me." He kept his eyes away from her. She moved to try and get in his peripheral vision.

"Promise I won't."

"-And if you do ?"

"Then I'll tell you something you can tease *me* about."

He paused. That actually sounded reassuring. It still didn't make him feel any better about this, but maybe he should get it off his chest. He might never have a chance to say it otherwise. "I don't think I'm ready to end our mission just yet."

"Why? Are there other prisoners we've missed?"

"No."

She attempted to think about why he would say this. He could actually see the strain she was putting herself through. He gathered the courage to tell her. "...I would rather still be working with you than having to part our ways."

She was astounded. "You don't want me to leave?"

"I…" He struggled for words. Why did he feel like this around her sometimes? "I would miss you. That's all."

A pause. He waited before glancing back at her. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. The silence felt nerve-wracking while he waited for her reaction. He was about to retract his confession before she squealed.

"Aww, Deacon..!"

"Dea." He groaned.

"I'm sorry!" She waved a hand at him. She was clearly getting a kick out of this, which frankly embarrassed him. He felt ridiculous for saying any of it aloud. "Okay. You want something to tease me about?"

He leaned towards her in interest, resting a thoughtful finger on the sharp chin of his bauta. She waited a few seconds before telling him, "...I would miss you, too."

It was his turn to be surprised. "You would?"

"Yeah. It would be hard not to, you know?" Her tone became quiet as she looked at the floor. She splayed her fingertips across his comforter. "I loved having this job, to get a promotion this big…I don't think I really deserved it, but I'm glad I got it, because I never would have met you otherwise. You've…been a great friend to me. I don't think I've been as close to anybody as I have with you."

He was speechless. He remembered what he told her not long ago. It was still true. He'd never met anyone like her. To hear that she was grateful for their meeting as well…it warmed his heart and gave him hope.

Then he paused to think. Hope for what ?

"I'm glad you said something because…I was feeling sad about it, too. Having to end our mission when things are just getting started." She pouted, trailing her finger along the seams of the blanket.

"Then why not take my offer?"

She winced. He didn't understand why this was a difficult topic. "I…I want to, Deacon. I really do. And I hope I will."

"What exactly is stopping you?" He asked curiously.

There was a long pause. The longest he'd ever received from her. But he was patient and waited. Eventually, she removed her hand and sat up straight. She couldn't look at him, shifting uncomfortably on the bed instead.

"I don't have a good past with the men I've worked with before. I guess I'm still afraid that things will happen again."

The gears in his head were turning. "The ones who marked you for 'insubordination'..?"

She whispered a small 'yes' . He decided to drop that subject before it delved into something worse. He had a more clear suspicion now, which made him quick to reassure Dea of his offer.

"I promise nothing like that will happen. We've worked this well for this long, haven't we?"

"We have." She met his eyes with a more comfortable posture. He was glad to see that green color again. "That's why I think I will take it. But if I don't…I hope you understand."

Disappointment flooded him and it showed in his posture. He still told her that he understood and respected her decision. Dea seemed to think about something before closing the gap between them and embracing her partner. Deacon was taken aback at the sudden contact, but gladly returned it, much to his own surprise.

They never hugged before. The sensation was new, but welcomed by them both. The scent she wore was stronger in this proximity and he was instantly addicted. He didn't want to let go…he wanted to enjoy this for as long as possible. To hold someone after all this time alone. The main contact he shared with others was the torture he inflicted on his enemies. Hugging Dea felt like a much better change of pace.

As for his co-captain, she was pressing her mask against his chest and relaxing in his arms. She had been petrified to initiate something like this, but she was glad she did. Even more so when Deacon returned the gesture. It ignited something inside her - something hopeful and pleasant.

The hope that he returned what she was feeling.

She would be a fool not to accept his offer. She realized that now.

She lifted her head to speak beside his zendale, refusing to part from his grasp. "...Thank you."

He shivered at the sound of her voice. It was so clear and so wonderful next to his ear. He found himself regretting every moment they had stayed so far apart.

"Thank you , Dea."