Markus felt her finger along his scar and was momentarily confused as to how to continue. Two years ago he was in hearty taverns and flirting up women on campaign, and many of them flirted in return by touching his scars. But he was a captain now...of [b]pirates[/b]. She was confusing him now more than any decision he'd had to make with his new command. He grabbed her hand as she commented on how he slew the captain of the [i]Poxed Whore[/i], about to question her on what she was getting at when she spilled the wine all along the table! 

"Sigmar's balls!" he cursed, too distracted to catch the bottle but with enough frame of mind to grab the neck of it and set it down rightly before the entire contents of it had emptied onto the mahogany desk and the floor. He snapped his gaze away from her, surprised he let himself be distracted by such a clumsy woman like he was the boy back on Helmsfurt a decade ago. "What the hell, woman?" Luckily he had some cloth and a flagon of water to dilute the liquid, wiping it off the table. It didn't seem to have stained anything on the table, but he'd need to see it in daylight to be sure. 

"This is mahogany! And this is expensive Tilean wine for Ranald's sake!" He didn't sound murderously mad like one might expect, more annoyed. With a grunt he opened the back window and tossed the wine soaked rag out into the sea, slamming the window shut. With that he sat down again, shaking his head. Gone was the man who looked like he was going to murder her after the next word, replaced by the young traveler he tried to hide. 

Still, he cut the figure of a captain as he pinched the bridge of his nose, lounging on the big chair across from her like a hunting cat.