Luc took the bowl with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you sir," he said quietly as he settled easily onto the chair his [i]Tante[/i] 'Tonia abandoned, waving him over to take what had been her seat. He wasn't hungry, not truly, but he nibbled at the hardtack anyway, washing it down with the fresh water because Captain Lightfoot was right of course. A full belly was a comfort, even now, even after all he had seen, and Luc bit off a large bite of jerky as his aunt's gentle fingers ran lovingly, soothingly, over his own ebony curls.

Antonia did not have even a moment to reply to Thomas' words before Jax had arrived with Luc in tow, and she kept her peace now as well, as the captain and the helmsman spoke of dreams and nightmares. She busied herself while Thomas prepared Luc's makeshift meal, hiding as best she could the blood-stained evidence of the merciful brutality from the boy's eyes. Luc had seen enough this day. More than enough. [i]Far[/i] too much, and if Antonia were not so sure that whatever the Commander had planned for Luc would be similarly as dire, just as deadly, the guilt of knowing all those dark, amber-lit eyes had seen this night, would have weighed with a shame as great as any anchor.

The rogue sighed softly, and did not speak until Luc had managed some bites of his makeshift dinner at the least. "You are right Thomas. The numbers are low - far too low." She kept her words deliberately vague, her one concern adding a single other burden to the boy sharing the warmth of the fire with them now. She would have dearly loved to revisit the more tender words spoken only moments before, to tease and laugh about the consequences of the elder Lightfoot's rejection of Thomas' own Home Star, to savor the light in Thomas' copper gaze as his eyes roamed over her face as he lovingly washed her clean as well. But the moment for levity had passed, and all Antonia had left was the trust more such times still lay ahead of them.

"Depending on where we have been blown, there might yet be the chance to increase... Those... "

Antonia's voice trailed off slowly as she listened to the wind howling and laughing just beyond these wooden planks, still as stone for several long moments.

[i][b]'De golden woman been tossed to de waves, little sister. De smiling man be gone after her - you tink you might want to retrieve dem, yes? Dere's no lifting dem - you gots to haul dem out yourself if you want dem... At least before Broder Sogba strike down de smiling man to a little speck of ash. He is not taking a liking to de way de golden woman looks at de tiny mortal. Not when he work so mightily to catch her eye tonight... '[/i][/b]

The laughter on the wind whistled away through the galley, back up the stairs to the deck and the night. Rogue and boy looked quickly to one another, eyes wide with surprise, and not a little genuine fear.

"Thomas, something has happened to Nicolette, to Jax. We have to get up top - [i]now[/i]... " She never once thought to explain herself, or her strange, near incomprehensible words to Thomas. There was not time and, in all likelihood, there was no need. This was the very man who trusted his beloved rogue enough to battle sirens, and keep them at bay at her word alone. She never had to be told, that Thomas' trust in her was complete.

Luc did not wait to be told to wait for his aunt yet again, setting the bowl and cup aside swiftly and at her heels in a moment as she dashed out the galley, heedless for the dark and wet as she made her way up top. 

Antonia might never be a sailor born, but her sight was matchless, and she sprinted over the [i]Skate[/i]'s deck, shouting their names into the ebbing winds. [i]"Jax! JAX! Nicolette!"[/i] The rogue did not stop to turn as she caught sight of the pair on the waves, even in the inky darkness of the waning storm. "Thomas! Luc - a rope! Bring rope!"