The Captain expelled a puff of air from his nose in an expression of disbelief, it confirmed to him at least, that the girl wasn’t Miss Bishop, the very thought of even being frisked would make any high society girl flush. Elissa leaned forward with a smirk, almost playfully to Joseph’s regard - particularly in light of the circumstances - there was something familiar with the gesture he couldn’t quite place.
He flexed out his arms with fingers interlaced to stretch them and crack his fingers, then placed his interlocked hands behind his neck with elbows raised, he held this position for a few moments, “alright, we’ll leave the best ‘til last then shall we”, Joseph cleared his throat and sat up, casting his eyes to a dark glass bottle, half filled with liquid, he stretched himself across the desk to grab hold of it, and the silver beaker next to it. He decanted for himself a cupful of a deep golden brandy from the bottle, tipped it back to drink the lot, he sniffed and drew the sleeve of his shirt across his lips - there were smears of Elissa’s blood dried into it. He refilled the beaker and handed it to Elissa. She would be thirsty, and hungry - he’d see to it soon.
“I want to know who you are. You’ve been about ships - you have a crew, you know how to fight. You’re dressed like a Miss Bishop but you ain’t a Miss Bishop” he began, “and, ..that” he gestured by tapping on himself where the fresh brand had been placed on Elissa’s neck.