Vincent adjusted without effort, staying easily on his feet as the ship bowed. This was all standard for him, but obviously it was giving Allison a hard time. He enjoyed that. But it was offset by almost feeling sorry for the girl… taken from her home, thrown aboard the ship, and clearly drinking to dull herself. She seemed interested in him though, as more of an oddity than anything else. He sat on the couch once more, sighing. He was not quite sure how he had expected this conversation to go; all he knew for certain is this was not it. “Leg stings a bit, does it?” he laughed.

“Well, if being stuck here with me would be so hard for you, maybe I’ll keep you here.” He closed his eyes, exhausted by the day, exhausted by this girl. They didn’t take prisoners. What the hell were they supposed to do with her? Her ‘cell’, the concept of it made him laugh. It was really nothing more than the ship’s laundry room with a couple guards posted. Sure, they’d put a cot in, reinforced the door, but those were all last minute changes. They had never taken a prisoner, never participated in kidnapping. He was a criminal, of course, but some things were beyond him. His mood softened and he looked to Allison.

 He was tired of trying to calm her down, tired of chiding and testing her. He had really intended to just be civil with her, have a chat, but that had been an utter failure. Was it the fact that she was of royal stock that made him so… at odds around her? He was agitated, and anxious. Having her in his space was getting to him. He was nervous. That’s what is was, nerves. He found keeping his composure difficult, and his thoughts kept returning to what she had said about sharing a bed.

“What was your life like, back home in your castle?” He was genuinely curious now. The question even surprised him, showing interest on a more personal level.