Thomas nodded discerningly, his face placid. Nicolette’s story was believable enough, and he could envision a scenario where she had avoided the game in an effort to maintain her ruse. She was a most shrewd woman to avoid detection so thoroughly, and for so long. There was a deep and murky craftiness to her that Thomas found thrilling and somewhat dangerous, and he could not help but respect the brazen woman. [i]Though craft is not boundless,[/i] Thomas thought to himself as his eyes drifted to the puckered scar upon the first mate’s otherwise flawless face. 

As he traced the rough edges of the ‘P’, Thomas heard Jax speak to him about the first mate’s eyes, and he immediately looked to them. He smiled along with his reply, not looking away from the angelic Nicolette. “Aye, they are intense. Calculating, or perhaps even…” He paused for the briefest of moments, “…brooding.”

He dealt the remaining cards with a smirk, looking up to Jax. “Whatever is in her eyes we shall know soon enough, I wager. Whether it will be the worse for us is something we shall learn in due course as well.”

Thomas focused upon his cards, and his face became slack. He did not arrange the cards into suit or value, instead allowing them to remain in their random state to avoid any particularly perceptive eyes. His mind worked through the fog of alcohol to arrive at an accurate wager, and he was pleased that his hand was assuredly not a bad one. [i]Well,[/i] he admitted to himself, [i]I could most assuredly make it a bad one.[/i] His face remained emotionless despite his inner musings, and he was just about to goad Jax into making his bid when he realized what he had said to Antonia.

Thomas turned his head fractionally towards Antonia, his own brow rising in amused interest as he gauged the reaction of the creole rogue. She did not disappoint. Leaning back into his chair, Thomas laid his cards upon the table face down, and crossed a booted foot across his leg. As he watched with unabashed interest as Antonia moved through her slow, sensual mock, he gently spun a shining silver coin between his fingers. A man biding his time. 

“Though the thought of you in bondage gives my mind most [i]stringent[/i] pause,” Thomas spoke softly, looking down to the coin spinning in his fingers, “I believe that our sea-artist should spend more time vying his cards…” Thomas brought his copper eyes up to Jax, his expression now turning into angles of quiet menace, “…and less time dwelling upon what he cannot hope to possess.”