Thomas sat up instinctively as the panic and roiling emotion rose into the First Mate’s eyes. He was taken aback as she seemed to coil like a spring, being compressed with a burden he could not see or understand. When she answered him, her words cut through the air with the force of old pain restrained by personal will. 

She spoke of thanks, and of appreciation. She spoke of duty and of love for the [i]Skate[/i]. She offered her service, and even her life. What she did not offer however was trust, and though her proclamations seemed genuine, her omission of even the very word was as conspicuous as the scar upon her face. 

[i]What have I done?[/i] Thomas thought. 

Had he made a mistake in coming to Nicolette? In seeking common ground between them her answers made it seem like he was no closer to the mysterious, beautiful, and apparently troubled First Mate. It was as if he was swimming into a riptide, moving with hopeful intention against a current that pulled him inexorably away. His heart fell slightly in his chest as a sobering realization came to him with Nicolette’s words still ringing in the small cabin. 

His First Mate, his right hand, for all her high quality and staunch sense of duty would never wholly bestow her faith in him. His actions, his words, and even his intentions would forever be slanted by doubt in her eyes. 

“I appreciate your devotion to the [i]Skate[/i], Nicolette.” Thomas said quietly, unable to hide the shade of disappointment in his voice. “It is a quality of you that has never been a question, but it is always refreshing to hear.”

His face pinched, and his brows furrowed. “I apologize if my coming here was forward, but perhaps I can explain my reasoning. Lightfoot, my adopted father, was a rough pirate to his very core. Salt flowed in his veins and gold filled his skull.” 

Thomas looked to Nicolette as he spoke, his gaze not shying from the cat-like eyes of the First Mate. “For all that though, Lightfoot had a heart for love. I was lucky enough to be granted that love. Since I was sixteen I was at his side, sailing and plundering, and all the while he granted every ounce of faith in me that he possessed. When I spoke to him, he took my words at their full value, and when he spoke to me, I revered it like gospel.”

He smiled then, recollecting absently upon some fond memory. “You see, I trusted him implicitly. In his shadow I felt confident and safe. I felt like a man with the world laid out before him on a platter. I was a king in waiting, a prince of the sea.”

“And I have fantasized,” he said, his voice falling off into an almost whisper, “since his passing, about finding that partner that can give me that feeling again.”

Thomas smirked and snorted, his own forthrightness surprising him. 

“I suppose such a dream is wholly foolish, eh?”

He stood then, holding his own mug of coffee, now forgotten, between his hands. Thomas cleared his throat and tried to offer the First Mate a reassuring smile that he himself did not embrace.

“Thank you for your time, Lieutenant.”