It must have been a very long time in her life to ever receive such physical contact that would fit in the category of genuine affection. The young lass was...[i]hugging[/i] her. As soon as she felt those arms wrapped around her, Vivienne wasn't exactly sure if she should respond, but the only response she could give was a slight stiffening in her body. "You're welcome", she responded, not exactly expressing any true sympathy in her words, as if she was forced to be nice. 

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. "Abigail!", a voice called in the distance. Elizabeth was running towards them, with Commodore Norrington, the Governor, and a few British troops, in tow. Concerned, the newly-wedded bride quickly approached her young cousin, who seemed to be hugging an older woman she had never seen before, and carefully pulled Abigail to her feet, and away from the mystery woman. "Are you alright?", Governor Swann asked, quickly draping his niece with his coat, in order to cover up her modesty. He gazed at the woman distastefully. Not surprisingly, Commodore Norrington had the same expression, only colder. "Who are you?", he wanted to know who this woman was. 

Vivienne watched this other young woman help the girl to her feet; she seemed to be older, and quite the beauty with her 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? 

Looking from her, to the middle-aged Englishman, who appears to be the 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]. The girl's rescuer calmly raised both of her hands halfway in surrender, and stepped away from the girl, standing at her full height of five-foot, seven. Once the man demanded for her identity, she finally let her hands elegantly descend. [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, although she kept her charming smile on her youthful visage.

The two red coats brought forth Vivienne's effects, more specifically, her [b]weapons[/b]. "She had these, sir", one of them informed. "Said somethin’ about stealing a ship.”