Antonia's wide smile finally reached her eyes, widening in genuine surprise at Jax's entirely impudent, utterly inappropriate and likely very unwise response.

And then she started to laugh. She simply couldn't help herself. Low, warm and soft and so genuine, the sound could only add to the First Mate's terse, tight command for a ceasefire to the sudden tension, her own falling away with every incredulous shake of her head. So many small, even delightful surprises in the span of moments, and Thomas' reaction had been one among them. Antonia looked sidelong at her lovely man, head tilted curiously for just a moment as she took in the words, the tone, the expression of his face - and then tossed him the rest of her neatly peeled tangerine with a slow, knowing wink. 

Quick fingers reached to the tray once more, plucking up a soft, ripe mango this time. Antonia's blade sliced long, thin wedges of the fleshy fruit away from the pit, taking small bites thoughtfully as she watched the other two players, the guests of the Parakeet. This was what she did, after all, the captain's roguish spider. Antonia observed. She listened. She parsed what was said, and what was left unsaid. Every movement, each gesture, noted and considered and whispered into the ear of her lovely man.

[i]Oh Jax.[/i] Antonia could only shake her head in wonder. Well, he truly [i]was[/i] a wonder, was he not? Antonia had been certain as she watched him steer, enamored of his new charge, tending the wheel of the [i]Skate[/i] as dearly as a lover; at his side as he walked through the filthy streets of Port Royal searching for even he knew not what - until he found the Boar; how he embraced the bloody brawl in the Boar with a joy that bordered on a berserker's ecstasy - that this man? Yes, she had become certain Jax was a man bound for either fame, or infamy, or an early grave. 

For perhaps the first time, Antonia could honestly say she'd be a touch disappointed if it were the latter for the smiling man. After all, Jax gave "audacity" whole new shades of meaning, as strangely varied as the subtle variations of that ever-present grin on his lips. 

Grey eyes turned easily toward the First Mate, to Nicolette Beauchamp, and her expression grew a touch more pensive as Antonia sipped her wine, subtly flavored with hints of tangerine oil. The First Mate had held herself so stiffly, so tensely, as she exercised her authority before their intimate gathering. Strangely, the rogue could recall no such circumspect hint of hesitation aboard the [i]Skate.[/i] Ah, such a strange, crafty, subtle piece of contradiction, was this woman before her - though if nothing else in this world, First Mate Nicolette Beauchamp had the stones of most any man Antonia had ever met.

Antonia knew she would have never attempted such a protracted deception, couldn't even imagine the circumstances, the purpose or the reasons that she'd willingly attempt such a feat for so long. Her own guises were far more subtle ruses, aspects easily maintained with the help of a few props and a good deal of rum in her mark. Entwined in her own blends of gris gris and voudoun, the lies of certain willing accomplices, her own quite natural acting skills and vast, dark knowledge of this wicked world, Antonia knew well that men often only ever see what they wish to see. Antonia always gave them what they wished - well, at the least until she had what [i]she[/i] wished. Precious few of her masks would hold up under intense scrutiny - and most [i]certainly[/i] not the pretense of a man.

That Nicolette had done so for so long, successfully by all accounts to the last, spoke to as yet unseen depths in the woman, well worth the time it might take to sift through. A challenge then, and Antonia found herself warming to the prospect. She'd already known for some time, that the First Mate was no turncoat, no danger to Thomas or the [i]Skate.[/i] No... Rather, this was entirely for her own curiosity, her own... Well, her own [i]pleasure[/i] really, peeling the layers back for no better reason than to see what lie beneath. What lovely stories there must remain to be found, beneath that juxtaposition of sweet vulnerability and impervious stone.

Antonia sliced a thicker wedge of soft mango away from its pit, and reached to offer it to Thomas on the blade of her knife with a satisfied tilt to her full lips. She might not be playing gleek herself this night, but she was certainly enjoying the game immensely.