“Not a slave,” Jax looked toward the scare that marked her in more ways than one, he was sure, “Of course not.” He let her know he saw the mark. 

Her fingers didn’t hurt, damn her. But then her eyes and her words were weapons enough. “Give an inch and they take a nautical mile.” He looked over at his neatly organized shirt and for reason he couldn’t explain he reached to it and scrunched it all up again. Best she know right off he was a mess. Best she know no way can she straighten him out as neatly as she would like. 

Jax took a deep labored breath feeling the smoothing depth of whatever it was she was doing. Curses to her, why couldn’t she heal with pain and speak with healing? Never mind. Never mind. It was best that she hint warmth with a touch she can’t hide no matter how hard she tries and cuts with the ice of her tongue. Cold hard sea witch.

“I will take your advisement, First Mate, Sir,” Of course Jax hit the Sir with just the right strength and amusement. “If it is a skirt he wants than Antonia will more than fit the offered arm, I am sure. Thing is she may be otherwise occupied.” 

He shrugged and looked back down to his bruised chest. “But then, I just drive the lovely ship and can’t settle all this other mixed up inter play. The Captain will know what to do, to order or not. Consequences or not.”

Jax smiled up at the First Mate. It started as a snide grin but he let it go to the more natural state of just liking to look at her. Damn her. As quick as his appreciation found itself he masked it just as well as she did. Well, maybe not as well, but he tried. To add to his false face he had to let his tongue fill in just like she had. “Don’t your worry your pretty little head,” He chuckled at the sound of that joke, “I will find a skirt and an arm to make me fit in as best I can, which is not so well at all, but then I represent little..

Jax laughed again, “ I mean to play this game out. Just for the fun of it.”