Had she lost herself so fully in the fun of the game she was playing with herself that she forgot to note what was going on around her? She must have because when she looked up she could see in the set of his jaw, the hardness around his eyes that the Captain was angry. Rationally she knew that he wasn’t the sort to lash out, but rationality had nothing to do with her gut reaction. Her stomach dropped, her eyes widened and in an instant she lost any sense of control she’d gained as her limbs began to tingle with the lightness of a fight or flight reaction. Her body remembered how it felt, the pain, the humiliation, the fear. 

She was halfway out of the chair before reason caught up with her, reason brought on by the sight of Antonia leaning down and whispering into the captain’s ear. That sight, those full lips, breathing words into the Captain’s ear calmed her and she dropped back the inch she’d risen. She let her eyes close as she tried to slow her breathing, her heartbeat, praying that her little display hadn’t been overly noted. She wasn’t that stupid foolish girl anymore, insulated from reality. She was stronger than that, more in control. This Captain wasn’t that sort of man, to lash out, to punish for such a small petty thing. Though she wondered at his fury, he won, hadn’t he? Though in truth her losing had little to do with him winning and more to do with a stubborn commitment to her determination to always lose at cards, to stay under the radar. To be in control. But clearly it hadn’t pleased him. She could only hope that the experience meant that he would never ask her to play again. 

She took her empty purse with hands that shook and slipped it into the pocked of her ruined coat before slipping it on and closing it tight around her. For armor it was lousy but still she felt shielded by it, hidden behind the cloth as she wrapped her arms around herself as if cold, despite the balmy night. 

“Of course, Captain.” She said in her most correct tone, the tone not even the pickiest of Admirals could take offense at for all that it was filled with respect but not deference. “I would hear whatever it is you would say, and gladly.” 

She picked up the bottle of Rum she’d been playing at drinking and took a true pull, her free hand still holding her coat closed around her.