"Nothing you have not already given, [i]Mademoiselle[/i] Beauchamp," Antonia quipped in her perfect Parisian French, silken and warm. She wore that same, sweet grin, and maintained her upside down perch for some moments longer. Of course the rogue realized that she had startled the First Mate, and of course she heard that soft, near inaudible gasp. That was [i]her[/i] job, after all, to see and hear what might be otherwise missed - or even [i]dis[/i]missed - in the course of every exchange.

But it was also a rather intrinsic part of the rogue's job, to use discretion and delicacy, and even a touch of wisdom when sifting through such tidbits of information. And so Antonia remained just as she was, smiling brightly, her view of the [i]Dusk Skate[/i]'s deck topsy-turvy of course though not the least disconcerting from a spider's perspective. Besides, what could possibly be more innocuous, more childishly harmless, than the grinning, vaguely silly sight of a woman swaying upside down from the ropes of the rigging, the thick cables twisted about her legs, with that long ebony braid swinging side-to-side like the pendulum of some strange clock.

The rogue had not forgotten the events of the night past. Far, [i]far[/i] from it, in truth. But Antonia had thousands of masks, where Nicolette had only the one - the very one she presented to her now. [i]No one[/i] understood better than she, that a mask was more than a mere costume, an ephemeral disguise. A mask was [i]armor,[/i] and the rogue would do nothing intentionally to strip Nicolette's from her. 

"In truth, I have a gift for you. A small token of my gratitude for what you did yesterday, for our Captain." Antonia winced with yet another remembrance though, also involving the Captain and the First Mate and the matter of a certain embrace, and a small bark of laughter bubbled past her lips. 

"Obviously, I mean [i]on[/i] the [i]Skate[/i]'s deck, and not... Well, [i]below[/i] deck? I do apologize for that... Ah... [i]Misunderstanding,[/i] I suppose we might generously call it? Still, I should not have barged into your quarters, no matter the business that seemed so urgent in the moment." There was naught but the light of sincerity in Antonia's grey eyes and her tender smile as she peered into Nicolette's lovely face. Whatever else the First Mate might have read there, was entirely her own doing.

Antonia leaned upward, her long, agile hands reaching for the rope she twined her legs about, grasping its length to pull herself up and then drop lightly to the deck beside the First Mate. She looked up to Nicolette now, the timbre of her voice gentle and true. "Thomas Lightfoot's life is... Priceless. To me it is - and I do not imagine I have hidden such a thing from you, [i]Mademoiselle[/i] Beauchamp?" 

The rogue looked away for a moment, loosening the leather tie gathers of a dark velvet bag bound to her belt. It was not terribly large, no longer than the length of her hand, and her gaze returned to Nicolette's face as she offered her the bag. Easily seen through the confines of the velvet, was the rectangular shape of a box.

"[i]Thank you,[/i] nonetheless. We will never know what that dog Cooper might have done, if he would have pulled the trigger... " The rogue's voice trailed off, filled with the desperate, helpless emotion of that horrific moment. Antonia took a deep breath, smiling resolutely as she steadied herself once more. 

"But I know what[i] you[/i] did," she finished softly, meaningfully. Her grey eyes peered about them, over the deck. The sight of the two women aboard the [i]Skate[/i] speaking to one another was new, a thing unheard of to this moment, and the rogue could feel curious stares turned their way. 

She did not imagine Nicolette would enjoy becoming a spectacle.

"Please do accept this and - if you like - feel free to open it in the privacy of your quarters. Or not, as you will. It is a delicate, exquisite thing, this small token. Even the layers that hold this gift are beautiful, but what lies within is [i]uniquely[/i] lovely - as you are."