And amongst all of the confusion and terror, there was a loud, familiar yell. Alice felt the bed shift - there was another one? Her heart gave a squeeze as she closed her eyes, the fright freezing  her still. Then, the voice - she knew that voice. She dared to look again; and it was Vic. He was telling the man, in no uncertain terms, to go away. As he went, she grabbed the duvet and held it up to her chest. The man had not succeeded in undressing her, but still. When he was knocked out on the floor, she slowly brought her hands down. She was still hyperventilating, adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream. She felt a little faint at the sight of blood dripping down onto her underclothes. 

At his touch, she jerked away. The most recent touch from a man had been violent. But it was him, only Vic, and he'd stopped it before anything [i]truly[/i] bad had happened. In any case, it was sore. She returned to her upright position again, lightly trembling and still sniffling softly. "N-no," she whispered, not even looking up at him. She felt slightly ashamed, for some reason. Like it was her fault that this man had come into her room and tried to take her. Perhaps she shouldn't have been attractive, should have reacted to him earlier... The sentiments were stupid, but they were still there.

How she just wanted some comfort. How Alice wished that her father was here, so that she could hug him and he could stroke her hair. How she wished for her favourite handmaid and friend, Connie. But they weren't here. Someone else was. Her hand slowly came up to grip his fresh shirt sleeve, fingers twisting themselves tightly into the fabric as she finally looked up at him. At Victor, the Incubus, who had just come from being with courtesans. Vic, the pirate who couldn't bring himself to hurt her or mistreat her. The action might have been surprising for him. But after two days at sea amongst strangers, after almost being [i]raped,[/i] could she be blamed for wanting a little bit of comfort - even if it was only platonic?