Birds of a Feather

The Curse of the Black Pearl

Chapter Forty-One

Urges and How Not to Resist Them

Philip Swift was a proper gentleman. He did charitable work, he escorted his unwed cousin to events, he attended to all the business required of him as the male heir of the Swann and Swift families. He attended social functions, he made respectable social calls, he sat with the sick and dying of Port Royal and prayed with them. He fed the poor; clothed the homeless; occasionally taught Sunday School; read, wrote, and studied scripture. He danced with eligible young ladies at balls, went on chaperoned walks, and preached about the sanctity of waiting until marriage.

So when he found himself on the starry night deck of the Dauntless and saw Will and Elizabeth sharing an evening stroll – appropriately chaperoned by Lieutenant Groves – Philip Swift was absolutely not tempted by the half opened door of the Captain's cabin where he knew Syrena was alone. Not tempted in the slightest bit.

Or at least that's what he told himself.

Yes, Syrena was his beau, but it was absolutely inappropriate for them to be alone in a room together. Even if they weren't doing anything but talking. Never mind the fact that they had already spent hours alone in a cabin together and if he had wanted to make love to her, he could have done it a dozen times over by now.

Well, that wasn't to say he didn't want to make love to her. Syrena was a beautiful creature with pouty lips, luscious dark hair, soft tanned skin, stormy eyes, and every curve of her carved just right. As a purely academic opinion from a man who – burdensome it was to admit it – had seen every inch of that gorgeous body, Philip could safely decree that yes, Syrena – if God forbid his hand was forced – was someone he would gladly make love to.

But not here.

Er- not yet. Not until it was proper. Not until she was – or if she ever did for whatever reason, Lord knew he didn't want to force her into anything – but he would- could do it – that duty if they ever became man and wife.

That was odd. Somehow he found himself closer to the cabin than he had been a minute ago.

He didn't want to ravish her, Philip told himself. He just missed her company. Those times alone in her cabin had been so intimate, so life changing, he just wanted to feel that again.

Of course, it wouldn't hurt to feel her lips again.

Philip did not have a lot of experience kissing Syrena, but it was something he knew he should do more of. After all, what kind of beau did he make if he couldn't give her a pleasant kiss? From a logical perspective he should be doing it as much as possible to learn and hone the craft. It was all simply for the sake of giving something enjoyable to a girl who had had a very miserable life. Honestly, it was a selfless act. Almost heroic. He would be doing her a favor.

Besides, it was not liking kissing was wrong. He wasn't as uptight as Uncle Weatherby and Aunt Kat had been, refraining from sharing a kiss until their wedding day. Philip was more like the Swift name he bore.

His parents' affair had been discovered by Aunt Kat when she walked in on them kissing in the garden. Grandpa Danny and Grandma Lillian had met after Grandpa Danny stole a kiss from her as the May Queen at Black Hill Cove's May Day celebration. Aunt Ada and Uncle Tristan had become engaged after Grandpa Danny found them kissing up against the alley wall behind the ABB Inn.

Of course, that wasn't all they were doing, but Grandma Lillian always said it wasn't the kissing that Grandpa Danny nearly beat Uncle Tristan to a pulp for.

Kissing was a perfectly fine gesture during courtship. Even the Bible approved of kissing before marriage. Jacob had kissed Rachel when they first met. And um… well actually the Bible mostly spoke of kissing between men and as a gesture of love, respect, and friendship, so Philip had more ammo to justify kissing Will than he did Syrena.

But still, there was absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to kiss Syrena.

Strange, he had moved even closer to the door.

Besides, he wasn't even thinking of kissing Syrena at all. He wasn't thinking of pressing her up against the wall and testing to see if every inch of her skin was as soft as those arms she had wrapped around his neck when he carried her. He wasn't thinking of scooping up that now familiar weight of her body and holding her the way he had done to protect her during the battle of the Black Pearl and the Interceptor. He wasn't thinking of carrying her over to that nice large bed in Norrington's cabin and pressing her down onto the mattress, his body settling over her and then-

Nope! Wasn't thinking about anything of a carnal nature at all.

No, what he was definitely thinking about was Syrena herself. With Elizabeth not around she must be so sad and lonely. Sure Jack the Monkey was with her, but the company of a person like Elizabeth or himself if need be meant so much more when she was mourning the death of her father.

And that's why he should go to her. Chaperone or not, what kind of man was he if he wouldn't comfort the woman he loved in her greatest time of need. Not going to Syrena that night would be black hearted and something Grandma Lillian would pinch his ears for.

Philip took a deep breath and righted his shoulders. He was about to walked determinedly towards the cabin when he realized that he somehow already was standing at the door.

Strange. How did that happen?

"Syrena?" he didn't know why his voice came out a secretive whisper as he tapped gently against the open door and stepped a foot in. It wasn't like what he was doing was wrong. "Are you there?"

He frowned as he looked around the room; Syrena was nowhere to be found. Hesitating, he took a step into the cabin and called out her name.

"Syrena?" his voice still held that hushed quality.

A screech cried out and instinctively Philip slammed the door behind him. It wasn't out of self defense but felt more like instinct of when their cook caught him with his hand in the sweets jar as a child.

He then realized that the source of the noise had just been the energetic Jack the Monkey hanging from the bookcase who called out in greeting.

"Jack," Philip touched his heart as it resumed its normal beat, "you scared me. Have you seen Syrena?"

The monkey turned to the doorway onto the balcony and screeched again before he turned back to his task at hand: throwing James Norrington's books from his bookcase one by one.

Philip's eyes followed the path Jack had indicated and saw Syrena leaning against the balcony rail. She was looking back at him and smiling, and his heart leapt this time not from shock but in the dance of giddy new love.

Syrena called softly, "Philip. What are you doing here?"

He hesitated but decided the only polite thing to do was join her.

"I, uh, came to see you," he walked up to the railing and leaned forward on it. The sea crashed in inky waves of stars behind the boat. "Elizabeth was off with Will so I thought- I don't know, you might be lonely or well, I know what it's like to lose a parent. You're holding up remarkably well considering it's been, what, only twenty-four hours?"

She looked down at the ocean beneath them, "I suppose when you learn not to cry, it's really learning not to mourn. Tears aren't safe for mermaids."

He saw the tension in her hand muscles as she squeezed the railing tight. Philip placed his hand over hers and he felt it relax beneath his touch.

"You are always safe with me," he whispered.

She smiled at him, her dark eyes twinkling like the starry sea, and he leaned down to claim her mouth with his.

It felt so right to feel her lips on his. She had a taste he could not get enough of, and if you asked him to describe what she tasted of, he would just say Syrena.

Neither had much experience with kissing, so their movements were awkward and experimental. Philip moved his head the wrong way and their teeth clashed together painfully. Syrena tried sucking on his top lip and Philip couldn't help a snort of laughter that thankfully she took well. But sometimes their experiments went right. When Philip dared to try something he had heard whispered among the Skylark cousins and slid his tongue into her mouth. She moaned as he stroked her palate. And when Syrena dared to bite his bottom lip, she was surprised by his growl of pleasure that deepened the harder she bit.

When Syrena pulled back for a decent breath of air, Philip surprised her by placing his hands on either side of her neck and lifting her chin with the heel of his hands.

"I still can't believe it," he studied her face.

"Believe what?" Syrena inwardly marvelled at how much she trusted Philip in such a vulnerable position. With any other it would be a violent threat, a possibility of strangulation, but with Philip is was an act of tenderness.

"That I could ever love someone so much, and so quickly too."

She chuckled, "It just means we get to spend more time loving each other."

"But, how?"

"Oh, I have a few ideas," she stroked a finger suggestively along his chest, remembering the feel of each muscle against her body.

"No," Philip laughed, releasing the grip on her neck, "I mean how? How can we love each other so much? We barely know anything about each other."

"Speak for yourself. I literally told you my life story."

"I know but there's a difference between knowing history and knowing… I don't know, character? You could probably tell me the whole Beckett Incident-"

"What is a Beckett Incident?"

The question made Philip pause, "Wow, it's been such a long time since I've had that question asked of me. I think the last time I had to tell the story of my parents in full was to Will eight years ago."

"Then perhaps you have a point. I don't know you, not as well as you would like me to." She stepped back from him and reached out a hand, beckoning him to the railing, "Come. Join me. Let us get to know each other."

He smiled, took her hand, and joined her.

"What were you doing out here?" Philip asked.

"Watching the stars," she looked up at the subject. "I have not often seen them. Most of my life has been spent underwater and then locked in a cabin. I've heard tell that men in ages past mapped the stars with pictures. I wanted to see if I could spot any of them. I don't know them though."

"I know a few."

"You do?" her eyes lit up.

"Here. Let me show you." He extended his hand and traced a picture in the sky, "Do you see that W shape?"

Syrena frowned and pointed to where she thought Philip had, "There?"

"Not… exactly."

Philip hesitated but then stepped behind her. Thanks to the size of the balcony it6 was a tight fit. His breath was hot on her neck, bodies pressed close. Too close. Philip reached out and placed his hand behind hers.

"There," Philip guided her hand and together they traced the stars. "That is Cassiopeia."

"Who is she?" Syrena asked but her mind wasn't focused on his words.

Her eyes slipped closed and for the first time there was no danger to prevent her from letting herself enjoy the feeling of his firm body against hers. He was strong and sturdy, but still somehow lithe. The kind of man you wouldn't expect to be able to carry around the frame of a young girl for that long, and yet she knew the hidden strength beneath the surface. That was exactly who Philip was in mind, body, heart, and soul, he looked strong enough, but there was something much deeper, stronger, and grander beneath the surface.

"She was a queen who angered the Gods," Philip's fingers threaded between hers and he slowly grasped her hand. He watched as she smiled and then snuggled back into his embrace. Gathering his courage, he dared to slide his other hand around her waist. "She was the most foolish person in all of Greek myth."

"That is a bold claim to make," Syrena lowered their entwined hands and guided it across the front of her stomach so Philip had encircled her completely. His hands were naturally soft, but the roughness of manual labour over the past month began to wear on them. "Why was she the most foolish person in all of Greek myth?"

"Because she claimed that her daughter was more beautiful than any daughter of the sea." He bent down his head and kissed her neck, "And I see with my own eyes what a lie that was."

She shuddered as he kissed her neck again, this time lower, "Oh Philip."

"Syrena," he nuzzled her silky skin, "how can I love you this much this fast? I'm so afraid that once you get to know me, you'll change your mind."

"I don't want to change my mind. Do you not understand? This is the happiest I have ever been and I know it is because I am with you."

"You don't know me."

"Then let me know you. Tell me about yourself Philip Swift. Tell me everything."

"Everything?" he moved up and pressed his forehead to her temple, "that's a tall order. I don't even know where to start. I guess the Beckett Incident-"

"No," she said firmly. "I wish to know your story, not that of your parents. Not anyone right now but you. Come, tell me anything."

"I don't know what to tell. There's so much-"

"Then let's keep it simple. Three things. Tell me three things about you."

"Three things, huh," he thought about it. "Yeah, I think I can do that. Ok, three things. Uhhh…"

Syrena raised an eyebrow, "You have no idea what to say, do you?"

"How can my mind literally just be a complete blank?"

She chuckled, "Alright, how about this, tell me something about yourself that others probably wouldn't believe."

"Okay," an idea came to Philip instantly, "how about this: I'm actually a pretty good shot."

The prompt had worked, Syrena looked at him with utter credulity, "Good shot? Like with a gun?"

"I know my way around a pistol pretty well. Every Gentleman has to know how to shoot and I'm actually very good at it. My aim is impeccable, and my reloading is quick and fluid."

"You're making that up!" Syrena laughed.

"Hand to the Lord, I swear on my parents' graves I am not," Philip vowed.

"Well, if you are so good then why didn't I see you wielding a gun during any of the battles?"

"When did I ever have a gun offered to me?"

"Well surely Jack's crew-"

"Jack's crew once left me tied to the mass for several hours; you think they were going to give the annoying preacher a pistol? Gibbs was the only one other than Will who knew I had the talent, Gibbs having seen me practice with the Navy officers during the crossing from England."

"Wait, how did he see you on the crossing?"

"Oh, did I not mention?" Philip asked. "He was part of the Navy before he turned pirate. He was on our ship when we crossed from England."

"Small world," said the girl whom he had also met on said crossing. "Alright, what is the next thing about yourself?"

Philip paused, noticing the grimace on her face, "Are you alright?"

Syrena hadn't realized just how much she had been leaning her weight against the rail, "Oh, yes. It's just my legs are starting to get too sore for standing. I'm still not used to the practice."

"Well, here, you should sit down."

"But where?" Syrena looked about. There was no furniture on the balcony. "I suppose we could use the chair from Norrington's desk-"

At that moment they heard a large crash. What they hadn't noticed was during their conversation, Jack the Monkey had determinedly started gnawing at the chair leg as he jumped up and down on the seat. He had managed the weaken the wood enough that now the chair lay on the ground with a leg snapped clean off.

Philip and Syrena looked at each other.

"Can we blame Elizabeth for that?" Syrena asked.

He looked thoughtful, "The Godly part of me says no, but the brotherly part of me says yes."

Syrena laughed, "Alright, I suppose there's only one place for me to sit."

She plopped down cross legged on the floor. A flash of ankle poked out from beneath her skirt and Philip felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He remembered the feeling of her delicate little legs, unsturdy like a newborn fawn and just as soft under his touch. Philip wanted more than anything in that moment to run his hand up that leg to the skin hidden beneath her skirt that had not be so protected by his shirt. And oh how that shirt had clung to her body, displaying every curve to her body tantalizing the viewer with the knowledge that there was nothing more under that fabric.

"Philip?"

He shook his head, refocusing on the scene in front of her. While he had been staring at her, he hadn't truly been seeing her. But now he seen that mischievous smile on her face, the one that told him she knew exactly what he had been thinking.

"Would you like to join me?" she reached up a hand to pull him down to the floor with her. "Or would you prefer me underneath you?"

He choked on the innuendo, spluttering and red faced as the musical sound of her laughter chased his embarrassment. Philip – awkward in his indignity – fumbled down onto the floor cross-legged with her. He couldn't bear the humiliation of meeting her eyes, so he turned his head away, only for a gentle touch on his cheek to coax him back.

"Come now," Syrena turned his face back to her. "We were talking. What was the second thing about yourself you were going to tell me?"

She looked so beautiful in the moment, pale skin illuminated by the moonlight and dark hair spilling over her shoulders like waves of raven feathers. Syrena looked like a picture of perfection, which is why he confessed to her his next secret.

"I… like to draw," he admitted.

Syrena cocked her head to the side, "You do?"

"Yes. Quite good at it too. I like drawing people and capturing moments that might be otherwise lost to time. It's strange how much emotion and depth a single image can hold."

"I never pictured you as an artist."

"No one does. Most people don't even know I try. Uncle doesn't even know, or if he has noticed he's never mentioned it to me. Will and Elizabeth know of course, more from them having caught me sketching or seeing a work of mine in my room than me telling. I've only ever outright told one other person."

"Who is that?"

"Aunt Kat," he said in a fond dreamy voice he always spoke about Katherine with. "She was more mother to me than my own and seeing as we both took such pride in proper conduct, we were so much closer than she and Elizabeth ever were. To Elizabeth, Aunt Kat was everything she never wanted to be but she never let herself see the strength hidden beneath the surface. Just because she liked dresses and dancing and sewing and all sort of feminine pursuits didn't mean she wasn't the smartest, strongest, bravest women with the most endurance a human could possibly have. If Elizabeth is Jael driving a tent stake through Sisera's head, Aunt Kat was Esther bravely going along with what was expected of and told to her to play the game until she was in a position where she could be brave and speak up to a King whose favor she had properly earned. I feel like not enough credit is given to women who play the games of society to their advantage and show strength through love and selflessness."

Syrena surprised Philip by suddenly laying her head against his shoulder.

"Whenever I think I cannot fall more in love with you," she sighed. "My Sisterhood was all about strength through force and violence. I do not think they even know what love is. They thought it a weakness."

"No, it's strength," Philip idly played with the strands of her hair. "Love is the greatest strength a person could have. I think that's what made me fall in love with you, seeing the ways you had shown the strength of love to Elizabeth, Pintel, Ragetti, your father, even Jack the Monkey."

"It's what made me fall in love with you," Syrena confessed. "When you told Elizabeth to go and you would stay behind to protect her. Then when you offered me a shirt to cover myself and refused to leave me behind. I knew it then, even if I didn't know I knew it yet."

"I think that's why I'm drawn both to art and scripture. At the end of the day, it's expressing stories of love and forgiveness. I like to say that I want to be a minister for my father's memory, but Aunt Kat is part of that equation too."

"You know, for someone who is so influenced by his father's memory, you don't talk about him a lot."

Philip unthinkingly tilted his head to rest atop hers, "It's still so hard nine years on. Part of me almost doesn't feel like it's real. His body was never recovered so maybe there's a small part of me thinks… Never mind."

"No, what is it?" Syrena asked. As someone who was beginning to mourn her own father, she wanted to hear all she could about the healing process and what might hold one back so many years later. "Philip, please. Tell me. I promise not to tell anyone."

He hesitated, "Promise?"

"Promise."

"…Part of me sometimes wonders if there was a mistake."

Syrena frowned, "Mistake? What kind of mistake?"

Philip took a deep breath and admitted that which he had never spoken, "I wonder if I go to Kifka, will my father be there waiting for me asking what took so long."

He expected the sympathy, the cry of sorrow, the begging for him to understand it was okay to think that but it wasn't true. But Syrena didn't do that. She didn't need to do that. She understood the inner turmoil he had likely been self-disciplining over for years. Instead, she just wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. It wasn't a passionate desperate grip of new lovers, but that hold of comfort a couple who had been together a lifetime would give when no words were needed.

It was in that moment that Philip Swift understood that Syrena wasn't just a woman he loved and would do anything for. That silent moment showed him for certainty that she was the exact person God had meant him to spend his earthly life with.

"Tell me about Nathaniel," Syrena whispered, still holding him tight. "For your third item, I want to know what memory you hold most precious of your father."

"Thunderstorms," Philip said without hesitation. "I'm terrified of thunderstorms and being in my father's presence was the only time I ever felt safe during them."

"Tell me the story."

"I was eight. We were living in our country estate which has these beautiful woods and rocks and a nice little river. Elizabeth and I were out playing in the woods climbing trees when a branch gave way an I fell a good seven feet to the ground. I was in so much pain and I couldn't move my leg. Elizabeth thought I was being dramatic until she came down, checked me out, and we realized I had broken both of my legs. Elizabeth was only seven, so she couldn't carry me and we were deep in the woods, much deeper than we were supposed to go alone. We knew we would be in so much trouble as Uncle was very strict about playing alone too far away from help. You see, when he was young he had a sister a year older than him who had fallen from a tree, hit her head on the rocks, and drowned face first in the riverbank because she had been alone."

"Cecelia, right?" Syrena asked. At his surprised look, she explained, "He told me the story on our walk the other day. It sounds like they were very close."

"They were," Philip said. "As close as Elizabeth and I. It's why Uncle became so attached to my mother as he saw her a lot like Cece. It's also why Mother's death hit him so hard."

"I think there's a bit more to it than that."

"Oh, right."

Syrena chuckled and touched her forehead to his, "Continue with your story. What do thunderstorms have to do with it?"

"Well, when Elizabeth and I realized I couldn't move and she couldn't move me, there was one awful choice: she had to leave me alone in the forest with the sun setting and two broken legs and go get help."

"No."

"Oh yes, it was horrifying… and then the clouds began to gather and the thunder began to crash."

"My poor Philip," she nuzzled his nose with hers and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Alone in a dark forest in the rain. I was I could have protected you."

"I wish that too," he chuckled and dared to steal a kiss. "I would have let you live in the river behind the manor and you would have been my mermaid friend."

She kissed along his jaw, "I think you're being very friendly tonight, My Love."

His head lulled back, giving her better access to his jaw, "I love you calling me your love."

"You are mine, and no one else can have you. I won't let them. Now continue your story."

"It was raining hard and the lighting was crashing all around. I felt a very real terror I have never felt more in my life. To this day I get terrors during storms, remembering that horrible night. But the worst part was when lightning hit a tree right next to me. It wasn't just the stinging currents of the electricity buzzing through my body from the ground, but the lighting fried the tree, turning all of the water in the tree to steam that burned my skin and shot the bark from the trunk like bullets. And then… the tree began to fall towards me."

Syrena gasped.

"I desperately tried to scramble out of the way, but I could barely move. Then suddenly, I heard my name called out and something flew across the forest. Bam! Something heavy knocked me out of the way and CRASH! The tree landed right where I had been but a few seconds before. And coiled around my body, holding me tight was my father who had tackled me out of the way just in time."

"Thank your God," Syrena nibbled at his ear.

"Oh, I did," Philip combed his fingers through her hair. Deep beneath the raven tresses he found the back of her neck and began to massage it tenderly, "As did my father intermixed with a number of swear words that proved his grandmother had been Irish."

Syrena chuckled.

"So what happened next?" she asked.

"My father carried me to the closest safe place on the estate, a nearby little hunting cabin. He built a fire in the fireplace and we slept in front of it. All night he told me how thankful he was that I was safe and he would always protect me and thanksgivings to the Lord. Intermixed with scolding lectures that sounded like Grandma Lillian, of course."

"Of course," Syrena's fingers began to work the knot of his cravat. She was a little surprised when he let her take it off and toss it aside with no fuss. "And you are scared of thunderstorms now?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I get night terrors on nights with thunderstorms and during the day I became numb with terror until they're over. Uncle, Will, and Elizabeth are good at helping me during the day, but at night… At night I have no one."

"You have me now," Syrena promised, fingers experimentally undoing the first button of his vest. "I promise you'll have me."

If Philip had a clear head he would have reminded her that at night he was in bed and it was inappropriate for her to come comfort his night terrors. But unfortunate it was not that head that was doing the thinking as he let her undo the second button and then the third.

"There," Philip said as she managed the last button of his vest. Without thought he pulled it off and set it aside, "I have told you three things about me. Now what about three things about you?"

"I could tell you," Syrena shrugged. Suddenly she grabbed him by the shoulders, "Or I could push you down onto this deck and show you how grateful I am for you naming me. I never did get to reward you for that."

"No you didn't," he let her push him backward, "but I'm grateful to take that reward now."

And they were instantly locked into their most passionate embrace yet.

It was passion without abandon. Philip hauled Syrena over him so she was forced to straddle him, which she was only most happy to do. Their lips and hands danced hungrily over we each other's bodies, Philip feeling like he had been electrified by a tree again.

As Syrena worked on the buttons of his shirt and began exposing that chest she was so familiar with but never before could enjoy, Philip experimented with sliding his tongue into her mouth again.

They broke for air and Syrena told advantage of that to start placing kisses across the now bare chested Philip, his unbuttoned shirt lying limply on either side of his body.

Philip Swift was lost to pleasure. No Godliness or propriety entered his mind, just Syrena. Holding her, touching her, tasting her. It all felt so right. She molded to his body as if they were a block of marble chiselled in twain come back together. Syrena was his and it wasn't wrong to have her, to hold her, to feel her. How could anything this perfect be wrong.

Normally Philip would start thinking of Biblical verses to temper his passion, but he was so far gone that nothing could possibly break through his mind.

…Nothing except the disgusted scream of his sister.

"DEAR LORD, MY EYES!"

I don't want to say that Philip threw Syrena off of him at the sight of Groves, Will, and Elizabeth standing in the cabin looking at them horrified and dumbstruck… but I also don't want to lie to you.

"Elizabeth!" Philip gasped, grabbing at his discarded vest and holding it up to his body like one would shield themselves with a blanket. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Syrena desperately smoothing out her own clothing and fixing up her hair. "What are you doing here?"

Will shrugged, "I was dropping Elizabeth off after our walk, and Groves was chaperoning. Now I should ask what are you doing here?"

"And why is the Commodore's chair broken?" Groves frowned at the pile of wood on the floor that once called itself a chair.

"We were just talking," Syrena got to her feet, trying her best to look innocent.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, "Must have been hard with my cousin's tongue down your throat."

"Says the woman who locked herself alone in a room with Turner just this afternoon."

"You did what?" Philip's head snapped to Will.

Will chuckled, "Oh no, you are in no position right now to scold us for anything. Also are you going to put your shirt back on or is this just going to be a thing with you now?"

Philip flushed, "Look, it's not what it looks like. Syrena and I were just-"

"Nope!" Elizabeth threw her hands in the air. "No. No. No. Do not even dare finish that sentence."

Philip opened his mouth to retort but just closed it.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"I'm not sorry," Syrena said frankly. "I was having a wonderful time until we were rudely interrupted."

"Rudely?" Elizabeth snapped. "What you were doing was so incredibly inappropriate that I'm judging you."

Philip couldn't help a glance at Will and muttered, "Considering the Interceptor incident-"

"What was that?" Elizabeth shot.

"Nothing," Philip shut up.

Syrena however was annoyed, "Really don't you think you're blowing things out of proportion?"

"You were straddling my brother! Don't you understand? If Father had seen what I just saw, he would have made Philip marry you." Elizabeth paused to think about her own words. "Actually, Will, what if we-"

"Not going to happen," he said firmly.

That just frustrated Elizabeth more, "Fine. How about we all just pretend this never happened and I'll remind Syrena about what is and is not appropriate going forward?"

It wasn't a question so much as a prelude to Elizabeth shoving all of the men out of the cabin while Syrena objected.

"Wait, Elizabeth," Philip turned back to face her in the doorway, "can I just say goodnight to Syrena first?"

She slammed the door in his face.

That was when the laughter began.

"You two are the worst friends," Philip grumbled as Groves and Will lost themselves to the hilarity of the situation. In the shadows, Philip tried pulling his attire together to be somewhat presentable, "And I don't know where Elizabeth gets all on her high horse. I had things completely under control."

"Sure you did," Groves said.

"Look Philip," Will patted him on the shoulder, "remember how we talked about the way to control urges was to draw a line and not cross it?"

"Yeah?"

"That was how not to do it."

Philip sighed, but then he got a thought, "Hey Groves, you were married, right?"

"Uh, yes?" Groves wasn't sure why Philip had to clarify that point when he had been the one literally to read their banns.

"You've been through this whole waiting for marriage thing before. How did you handle it?"

"Well, it was really quite easy." Groves gave him a devilish smile, "We didn't."

Philip just stared at him.

"… I need to find new friends."