Panic, consternation, it was unclear what it was that fluttered through the First Mate’s eye as the boy made his offer. She felt a flutter of panic in her belly that she could not place. It was one thing to be silent witness to the scene, lingering in the shadows, part of and yet removed from the story. Another to be in the middle, to be the recipient of the tale. Yet she did not want to be rude. She knew that to refuse such a gift would be unforgivably rude. She clung to her gentility even more now that she was an officer because of the brutal world she made her place in. She stubbornly held to her manners even after flogging a man. It was as much a part of her as her sweetly thick voice. So she swallowed her panic and bit back any hasty words of denial that might have slipped out before she collected herself and graciously nodded

“If you like,” her honeyed voice told the tin of peppermints that she still held in her hands. “I would be honored to hear it young Master Luc.”

She nodded to the tin and turned to put it back where she got it from, looking longingly towards the door and knowing it provided her no escape. She would endure the tale and enjoy at all at once. The sweet scene already having brought up the ache of what her damage would never let her have. 

“Let me pour myself some Brandywine and I will join you.” She looked to the look out who watched the whole scene with such uncomfortably knowing eyes. 

“Would your Tante like a glass do you think?” this time she managed to look at the boy, her lips curving into a half smile before looking away and readying two small glasses and reaching for a heavy bottle.