The mystery woman was expecting an answer from this young girl, but she didn't expect to see some British troops approaching them. By the looks of it, they've come to fetch the young lady. Looking upon the middle-aged Englishman, who appears to be their commander, the brunette gave a silent sigh of exasperation. More to block her path? Or was this about that pocket of money she stole from a food cart earlier? It could be that they happen to see her with an individual of high-class; that would be considered offensive and, come to think about it, [i]tyrannical[/i]. 

Having her gaze trailed to the Commodore, who happens to look upon her with a stone-cold glare, the girl's rescuer coolly raised both of her hands halfway in surrender, and stepped away from the girl, standing at her full height of five-foot, seven. She then watched another young woman help the girl to her feet; she seemed to be older, and quite the beauty with her brown-blonde hair tied up. Not to say that neither of them were, but in general, she was another one of those wealthy young ladies, sentenced to be married, and so on. Maybe a sister? A cousin? Or a dear friend? 

Honestly, she wasn't sure on what to do in such a predicament: being surrounded by thousands of "red coats", plus their commander. Hearing the girl, now [i]"Abigail"[/i], protest against the roguish woman's fate, the brunette couldn't help but feel slightly amused at the attempt. But for the Commodore to ask who she was, the mystery woman let her hands descend from her previous position, so they were cooly at her side. [i]At least I don't have to say my real name[/i], she thought before making her response. "Black. [i]Vivienne[/i] Black, sir", she forced herself to say in a respectable manner with a charming smile on her youthful visage.

By witnessing this man take her hand as if she were a proper lady, Vivienne's smile faltered once a bad feeling made itself known. So before she could quickly retreat her hand, Norrington already tightened his hold on her wrist, and exposed her pirate tattoo. She knew she was in trouble. [i]Pirate.[/i] The word made her bite her bottom lip in defeat. Charles Vane was going to kill her; but honestly, she doubted that he ever will. This time, she stayed quiet and listened. Listening, and scanned her surroundings; it was perfect. "Don't worry, I'm pretty swift when it comes to death", Vivienne assured Abigail with a wink, while she was being restrained with iron cuffs. It confused her a little that this someone, coming from the [i]outside[/i] world of piracy, would even care about her wellbeing. Someone of a higher class!?

They just forgot to check one spot on her body. "Swift [i]and[/i] evasive", the brunette recalled before smoothly revealing a small blade that was hidden in her bosum, and quickly grabbing Abigail before her, holding her at knifepoint with the blade resting on the side of the girl's neck.