Antonia laughed and, for the very first time since she'd met the helmsman, returned Jax' smile genuinely, without the least hesitation. There was not a concern in her head that he was mocking her, or wondering if that grin held the least touch of lechery - though she did have a wonder whether dear, good-natured Spice might yet reconsider his hygiene, if the helmsman decided to go back for a repeat performance [i]sans[/i] hand. 

The rogue did not think of sailors' superstitions, nor the share-and-share-alike traditions of the pirate brotherhood. In truth, these considerations never once occurred to her. For all her worldly knowledge, for all the ugly, hard-learned understanding of human nature carved into her mind? Antonia simply did not have the years experience at sea that the vast majority of these men - and of course, Nicolette Beauchamp - possessed. All Antonia knew of this life, was the year she had spent aboard the [i]Skate[/i] with these same sailors, sweating and fighting, toiling and killing right alongside them and, where needed before the First Mate's arrival? Splinting their broken bones and stitching wounds, sharing her own [i]Maman's[/i] ancient ointments and salves where she might and even crafting not-a-few poppets, charms for love or retribution, at the bidding of a whisper in her ear.

If these things were not enough to secure her place in the crew's estimation, Antonia had not the least notion. But one thing she knew [i]damn[/i] well, for all Jax' jest: the best man the rogue had ever known certainly was on board, this very moment. The message in that confident, reassuring smile from Thomas was all she needed. Win? Lose? Psh... His kiss brushed away all concern for either in this race he and Jax engineered. Antonia stepped back some paces, grey eyes lit with quiet approval for Thomas' salute (and a few silent words beseeching [i]Mami Wata's[/i] blessings under her own breath) before her gaze turned to Luc. 

Luc's young mind had reeled, caught somewhere between horror and ecstasy. [i]Tante[/i] 'Tonia had kissed the captain, which was bad enough even if it was over quickly. But then? [i]Then he kissed her back![/i] The boy cringed all over again. [i]So. Gross![/i]

As if he were not thrown completely enough anyway, those dark, amber-lit eyes widened appreciably when he followed the length of the solid, strong hand, past the elbow to the shoulder, all the way to that sternly beautiful face? The boy felt his knees go all gushy.

[i]Whoa... [/i]

Suddenly he wondered if, well... If [i]maybe[/i] that whole kissing thing was truly all [i]that[/i] off-putting. And in that same moment, something clicked quickly in young Luc's mind, a thing he could not possibly know was a familial gift for finding the most golden of opportunities in any given moment. No matter those suddenly jiggly knees, Luc's smaller hand reached up to gently pat the First Mate's hand at his shoulder, beaming a sweetly reassuring smile up to her, one that promised he had fully regained his proverbial footing.

[i]"Merci, Mademoiselle Beauchamp,"[/i] he said, his voice laced with a gentlemanly courtesy decades older than his mere eight years, and gave a small, gallant bow to the First Mate. For a brief moment, he thought of taking that incomparably fair hand and laying a soft kiss to the back of her fingers, but decided swiftly he probably ought not push his luck. 

Luc stepped swiftly to the space between the two men, the captain and the helmsman, smiling up at both of them in turn. "Gentlemen!" he shouted, his voice piping well above the sound of surf about the [i]Skate.[/i] "On your mark!"

Luc held both arms high over his head. "Get SET!"

The boy's arms fell swiftly to his sides though his head tilted back to the night sky overhead, his voice sailing to the captain's shimmering Home Star, and the helmsman's beloved Lady Moon.

[i][b]"GO![/i][/b]