[i]Almost,[/i] Antonia had been perfectly content. This night, she'd had the stars with her lovely man, his touch, that low, hypnotic voice as much comforting lullaby as an invitation to the paradise he'd whispered of, a sweet promise found on the waves, somewhere beneath their Home Star. But for that one lost kiss, she truly [i]was[/i] content. Antonia knew herself well enough to know that even in this delightful disappointment, this ache of anticipation, Thomas Lightfoot had somehow led the woman behind all those masks far closer to a genuine happiness, a joy she hadn't known from the time she'd been a small, innocent and much-loved child. 

And so when he heard the voices below, announcing the untimely approach of the first mate and the helmsman, she let Thomas go with a warm giggle, a guileless woman’s laughter who somehow trusted the words of a pirate captain above all others. There truly would be another night, just as he had said. With a small smile and utterly without complaint, she snatched up her stockings and her shoes, slipping them on quickly before she moved to join him. And then she snapped her fingers with an exasperated roll of her eyes, turning to snatch up the nearly-abandoned wine bottle in one hand. 

Thomas had already leapt back into the open window just beneath them. Antonia waited ‘til she was sure he was well out of the way, and then simply stepped off the roof, skirts billowing as she twisted lithely in midair to grab the roof’s ledge with one hand. Light as a falling leaf, she dropped silently into the hallway as Thomas strode away. Antonia was in no hurry really, gleek being a three-man game after all, and so she was only just coming down the stairs behind him. Turning toward the kitchens instead of the main tavern she missed utterly Thomas’ quip concerning the loveliness of the view (which would have pleased her), and Jax’s crack concerning the pirate captain pulling his pants back up (which would certainly [i]not[/i]). 

Probably for the better, really.

That precious, half-filled wine bottle still in hand, Antonia let herself into the pantry, moving straight for the covered loaves of bread and fresh butter, a large hunk of cheese and whole tropical fruits neatly ripened, lovely just-soft mangos and limes, sweet papayas and tangerines, a large knife and a few wooden plates. All these she arranged neatly on a wide tray along with the wine, and made her way back to the tavern proper.

One dark eyebrow arched in amusement, though her caramel-skinned face remained passive as the walls about them as she walked in, and heard Mademoiselle Beauchamp’s protestations of ignorance concerning… [i]”Gleet,”[/i] was it? Really, it was all Antonia could do not to chuckle to herself, and somehow keep the mirth from her face as she approached the table, only the soft silken rustle of her dove grey skirts to mark her arrival. 

Oh, whatever game the First Mate had up her sleeve, Antonia was only too glad to give the woman a wide berth and watch the fun. Was she about to make the helmsman pay with every coin he had, for whatever words may have tripped lightly from that utterly unconquerable tongue of his? Or was dear Silver Fish about to find himself stripped bare – in more ways than one – by yet [i]another[/i] woman he never saw coming?

The anticipation was simply delicious, and it honestly did not occur to Antonia that she should warn Thomas of a single thing to come. He wanted the full measure of his crew, of those men and women closest to him? Oh, it seemed he was about to get that and more [i]in spades[/i] and, since it likely involved nothing more dangerous than a great deal of fun and only a negligible loss of dignity, entirely without a hint of bare steel at that lovely, well-muscled back of his? 

There was simply no downside that [i]she[/i] could see.

Besides, Antonia honestly had to admit to herself – the idea of finally seeing the First Mate truly enjoy herself, in anticipation of an honest laugh from the woman? Oh, that would be worth most Thomas’ coin without a doubt! If Mademoiselle Beauchamp handily relieved him of every last copper, she might even consider loaning him some of her own, just to keep the spectacle ongoing. 

“Good evening Mademoiselle Beauchamp, Monsieur Jozua,” she said easily in her warm, thick Creole accent as she set the tray to the side of the table. She turned to Thomas with a wink, setting another empty mug before him, pouring it to the rim – just as he liked – with the deep red wine. 

 “Please, do help yourselves if you’re hungry, or thirsty – my tab is always open here at the Parakeet. Though let’s just keep this between us, hmm? My friends may not appreciate being overrun utterly with the crew of the [i]Skate.[/i] So… “

Antonia poured herself a cup of wine, raising the rim to her lips and taking a long sip before she settled gracefully into a chair at the table. “Was there an explanation forthcoming then, for our Mademoiselle Beauchamp?”