Thomas was not expecting Antonia’s kiss, and for a moment his eyes were wide with surprise. He regained his senses in short enough order, returning the kiss with a scrunch of a smile folding the corners of his eyes. 

When the rogue withdrew, and bade him choose his [i]winning[/i] side, he chuckled, running a hand back over his hair and clearing his throat.

“Well, ah, yes…I suppose I should.” Thomas said.

His gaze moved over Jax, and then to the First Mate. The helmsman seemed as loose and nonchalant as he always did, while Nicolette appeared to be wound as tight as fresh rope. She stood rigidly with her hand on Luc’s shoulder, her jaw set with a distinct air of frustration and disapproval. 

Thomas’ brow rose marginally as he guessed the subject of her irritation. He was no fool. She was concerned about the crew, about them seeing their captain being so openly involved with one of the two women aboard the ship. Thomas was sure that the men did not fault him for such an attraction, but what he did know is that not all would take kindly to the situation of the rogue being only his to embrace. Sharing, in [i]all[/i] things, was a pillar of pirate life.

His own jaw set. Thomas recognized the inherent danger, the possibility that the loyalty and trust of his crew could fray at the openness of his love for Antonia. As he stood there, Thomas reflected that at so many times in one’s life there exists defining moments, times when a man can either stick to his guns, or cut the losses that may someday befall him. 

Thomas snorted defiantly, as much to himself as anyone else. He stepped forward, reaching a hand up behind Antonia’s head to gently pull her to him for another kiss. Though he kept it short, there was passion in his lips, and he made no effort to hide it. 

When he broke away, his copper eyes shown brilliantly in the low light of the fading sun. [i]Some things,[/i] he thought as he smiled confidently to Antonia, [i]are worth doubling-down for.[/i]

With that, Thomas spun and clasped Jax’s hand firmly in a pleasant shake. “I agree to your terms, and by Judas’ silver, may the best man win.”

Thomas released the man’s hand, and marched over to the port rope-shrouds of the main mast. As he neared the rail, he brought three fingers of his right hand up to his lips, kissed them, and then held them above his head like a trident. The salute of fortune to Neptune would be one that every pirate recognized, and Thomas displayed it proudly.

Finished with his homage, Thomas took a stance of readiness, looking back towards the main mast, and the boy Luc. 

“On your mark, my dear boy!”