Port Royal, Jamaica

[Capt. Sterling]

As they rode on the noise and dim lights of candles spied in windows still open to allow for sea breezes, soon came into view. Sterling straightened at first sight of fellow human moving carelessly about the streets. Soon more and more people milled about. The hour grew late and yet now was the time for Port Royal to truly come to life. The din grew louder and the crowds soon massed about as drunks staggered from pub to pub, scavenging for drinks. The night watch waded quickly through the press as if to be able to say “there we have done our duty for the eve, tis now we can go and rest our own heads some wheres safe.” Music floated on the air, but the several differing strains from the local establishments were in direct contrast to one another making nothing more than annoying reverberation lacking any appeal to the senses. The whores too were on the prey, both Sabastian and Sterling called to almost continuously as they rounded the corner to The Three Crownes. It was only then Sterling breathed a sigh of relief and perked up as someone hailed him with a shout that the captain had once again come onboard. He saw someone take to their heels and run ahead of the carriage, but then lost sight of him. As the vehicle finally came to a halt outside The Three Crownes, Sabastian glanced briefly at his companion.

“A bit further, mon ami,” he whispered in encouragement. “I see now the wisdom behind all this agony you have put yourself through,” he added as a large number of the Archangel’s crewmen quickly began to spill forth from the Crownes’ barroom, glasses raised to Sterling, huzzahs at his safe return far surmounting the rest of the clamor.

“Aye, they think me well enough,” he said. “My officers know how to mind their tongues. Perhaps we shall flush out our quarry sooner than we hope.”

Sterling took one more deep breath, then allowed the reins to drop and brought his right leg up and over his mount's neck then dropped to the ground. Sabastian dismounted and handed over both horses to one of the crew, all too eager to help. He pressed close to the captain trying to protect him from the swarm of well wishers as Sterling made his way to the door of the carriage.

"Tis good to be back amongst ye Lads!" Sterling shouted. "Now give me a path as it will not do to crush the young lady within." With a bit of flourish, produced with much effort to cover the strain, he unlatched the carriage door and held out his hand to Aurore. She emerged slowly, unsure of his actions, but took the hand he offered and made her way down the steps to the cobble stones.

"Lads, tis my pleasure to introduce to ye Mistress Aurore Devareaux... my betrothed."

If the men had been pleased to see him return, the cheer that rang out at his news was even more overwhelming. Sterling turned and looked down at Aurore, the smile on his face was surely the most sincere and proudest she had ever witnessed.

"Come along my dear," he whispered but as she took his arm, it was she that bore the burden of his weight as they made their way through the throng of well wishers.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Delaney kept lofty perch after setting the brake firmly, from this vantage he could keep careful eye on the surrounds. Sabastian fell into step behind sibling and betrothed, senses keen to the proximity and taking in vieled observation of Devon Burke lingering in an out of the way nook of front entrance. Their eyes met briefly in acknowledgment then turned to the boiling turmult of human sea.

Aurore stepped carefully into the throng and smiled warmly to the Faithful as they jostled for position to catch glimpse of the trio making way. Her dark eyes flitted to Sterling's prophile, knowing full well that it was a charade of outragous proportions that was proffered to loving audience. She bore his wieght with grace, walking steadfast forward as though nothing were out of the ordinary and after what seemed an eternal streach of time, entrance was achieved.

The warm glow of oil and tallow created shadow spectors in niche and crannies, but any feeling of unrest was quickly vanquished with the warmth of fellowship that permiated the Common. Just within thresh hold, a small gathering of men awaited the return of their king.

[Capt. Sterling]

But as Sterling made his way into the close confines of the inn, it was all too evident to his first officer that something was amiss. Yes, Andrew March could see that his captain was truly enamored of the young beauty on his arm, but who was leading whom? March looked across at the lady and would have taken her hand during his introduction, but a quick glance in her eyes told him he should not dare. It was with some haste then, that March removed his hat and bowed as well as he could in the cramped quarters to Sterling and Mistress Devareaux.

His eye then moved quickly over the younger man who followed closely in the couple’s wake. Surely this was the man behind Le Cour and the man to whom March felt himself indebted for the safe return of his captain…. And friend.

March leaned in quickly to Hazzards as the second officer replaced his own hat upon his carrot colored locks.

“Make way and with haste,” March whispered for Hazzards’ hearing only. “We needs be gettin the Captain upstairs to his rooms. Clear the way fer him.”

“Captain,” March said, growing more concerned. “I have seen to a late supper bein laid in yer rooms. Ye best make yer way afore it grows cold and tis no longer to the likin of yer lady.”

“Supper? What…” Symms grumbled in astonishment before Hazzards clapped his hand over the old man’s mouth.

Sterling’s eyes locked a moment with his first officer’s. “Aye Mr. March tis thoughtful of ye indeed. Come join us.”

Immediately the small knot began their way, men still pressing about, toasts being offered with good wishes abounding. Hazzards shoved the old steward ahead of him as they made their way up the steps. Sterling allowed Aurore to ascend before him. She hesitated only a moment before she allowed him to follow, knowing Sabastian followed upon her lover’s heels. As they were ushered down the hall, two sailors snapped to attention outside the captain’s door. Symms swung the door open and Aurore was the first to enter. Sterling entered after her, one of the sailors offering a welcome home as he passed. As the others entered the door was closed quietly behind them. Sterling turned to his first officer.

“Is that necessary?” he asked regarding the guard at the door.

“I think so,” March replied. “And there are others outside as well although not as obvious.”

Sterling frowned for a moment, not wishing to be the cause of so much worry.

“Aye then, well done Mr. March. Mr. Hazzards. Mr. March if ye would be so kind as to send word to Captain Striker, that I have arrived back in the Port and wish to have him call upon me as soon as I have had a bit of rest. The ride in, I fear…” It was Sabastian who caught him as he blacked out.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sabastian's lithe stature was deceptive to the lean muscle concealed beneath velvet and linen adornments. He stood near at hand, carefully watching Sterling's bearing for waver of conviction. Subtle signals gave clarion warning to what was about to transpire and as knees began give way, honed reflex commanded agile reaction.

Sterling, easily outweighing Romani younger, toppled with sway, and was deftly caught then strainfully lowered to planking below. Aurore was quick to his side, jaw firm set and worry overwhelming large expressive eyes. She laid daint wrist to his forehead, finding his body heat uncomfortably high, concern etched itself in her youthful features.

Siblings looked to each other, ignoreing those that hovered in proximity. Natural assumption would to hail Doctor Rieley, but Sabastian already knew the story and complications that might arise in doing so.

Carefully, the Faithful gathered leader's limp form and placed him with care on near bed surface. Conversation buzzed in confussed navigation as Aurore sat at Sterling's side, unhampered hand held tightly and possesively.

Sabastian caught her attention, mouthing one word, familiar to them both, then quit the room for hallway beyond. The name uttered in silence, bounced the corridors of Aurore's mind as door closed in sibling's wake....

Childermass

[Capt. Sterling]

Surprisingly twas old Symms who came foremost to Aurore's aid once Sabastian had exited. He quickly filled the wash basin with fresh water from the waiting pitcher and then placed it and cloth within easy reach of the young woman.

"Out with the rest of ye now. He needs his rest tis all. Forcin him to make his way in when ye could have easily bashed that Striker chap over the head, bound and gagged him and carried him off to where ever the captain were already taken his ease..." the steward mumbled well enough for the others to hear.

March looked to Hazzards. "Snug's the word, regarding any of this!" he warned and then, with a nod, watched the second officer take his leave to relay the captain's message to the same Striker.

Then March came to aid Symms in the removal of the captain's outer clothing.

"Have a care Andrew March!" Symms snapped.

"I am Josiah Symms," March whispered harshly in return. Aurore could only watch helplessly for a few minutes before Sterling was finally laid to rest beneath the bedclothes. The entry wound, having torn several stitches, had begun to bleed anew and Aurore asked that needle and thread be fetched and made ready.

"Where is that new doctor?" March asked looking at Symms, who could only looked to Aurore.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Seth Childermass rolled to his back with exurtions spent; Dutch treat snuggling close and whispering enticements of a next round. Of all the places in the world that his services of war had taken him, Seth had found that the woman of more Northern regions satisfied him most. The one sharing his bed was a delight to his senses. Young and fairly inexperienced, she had arrived in search of possible prospects in the New World and ended up as many do without family or a husband to care for them. The girl had arrived in port but a month before and Childermass had quickly staked claim; she was an eager student and he was a patient teacher.

The continued monolog of carnal undertones played to his hearing, intermittantly punctuated by playful nip or stroke of tongue. Such summons could not be denied and he smiled knowingly as he felt her weight shift the surface of bed. A smile that widen over scarred features just as blonde crowned head dissapeard under damp bed trappings and the brush of full breasts tickled the flesh of his abdomen with southerly bearing. Another playful nip was administered in hip bone proximity, this one with more intense manner, then he felt her settle unseen. Deep breath was drawn in response to her attentions and he awaited with anticipation what he knew without doubt, would be next offering...

An urgent knock sounded upon simple door across the room, his soft companion froze and Seth eyed the door's proximity with vile manner. Again the knock, and primed pistol was retrieved from near bed table, followed by a string of berating statements and an order to clear off. The voice that answered dripped with mischievous undertones, causing the pistol to be set aside and companion to be drawn upward into fresher air.

Aurore's only focus was on her lover's pale form. She spoke softly to his hearing, caring not whether any of it was truly acknowledged. Perspiration was mopped away only to be quickly replaced by issue of more, and she eyed his wound with deepened concern. Symms, ever the daunting magpie, had kept some form of quiet, only now and again making some underbreath statement while assuring basin was kept fresh with its content.

The sound of fast footfall echoed hallway beyond, causing Aurore and Steward to pause current actions and center on the doorway. Latch disengagment acted with deafening qualities, and wood barrier was swung inward, producing Summoned and Summoner. Aurore moved away from Sterling's side, her expression pleading resolve from the newly arrived that towered over sibling in heigth.

Childermass stepped to Sterling's side, giving quick inspection to all that was involved, then gave order for bottle of brandy. Inwardly, he gave approval to the workmanship shown behind sutures disrupted. The tearing was far from artisian's fault. Standing to full stature, still damp hair was placed into check with simple cord and brandy bottle soon appreared for service.

Aurore watched what transpired with silence to thinkings, her features drawn with worry. But eternity collapsed into fleeting interlude and Childermass stepped back a pace, his hawkish features a portrait of satisfaction. Pale eyes scrutinized those in waiting, then he moved to where Aurore stood with arms clutched tightly around chest. Rough hand gently brushed liquid diamond from her cheek and soft kiss wass placed on her furrowed brow, "Tis fine, child....Rest is wha' yer Cherished needs...And a drink be what I need."

Seth glanced to Sabastian and gave nod towards the door.

[Rats]

“You sir, are getting lazy!” Snapped Mistress McKinney, after having corudually walked Reiley out of the cottage. “We have been her for days, my dear doctor. And unfortunately the only convelesence of which I have seen you perform is eating, drinking, telling of tales, and a barbaric tutelage of a young man who would be better suited to be sent off to a proper school, rather than learn how to disembowel his fellow man. And though I am very thankful for all kindness to which our sweet hostess has provided, I feel it very necessary to continue our journey to Port Royal!”

As the words stung true, Reiley couldn’t help but agree with Lilly’s words. It was obvious he could have easily spent days doing nothing but living off of sweet Abbi’s kindness. But he knew the simplicity of such a life, would need to be exchanged for the various responsibilities of which all of them possessed.

“You are right of coarse.” Answered Reiley. “Perhaps the ease of life here, along with the enchanting company….. I will have Mr. Davis ready the carriage at once.”

As Reiley turned to have the carriage prepared, he could sense there was a far deeper reason for the Mistresses unexpected lecture.

“I’m sure he will be fine, dear mistress.” Offered Reiley, as he stopped to offer consolement. “As I’m sure all will be put into order once we have returned to Port Royal.”

However Mistress McKinney did not reply.

[Capt. Sterling]

It was far too hot for a fire, The hour, early enough to still be dark, and yet no candle flickered when chance breeze crept warily into before it carried itself across the room. When he opened his eyes, he could not place himself. The windows were laid out incorrectly and with good eye slowly adjusting to the lack of light, he could see but not comprehend the strange glow from beyond the open shutters. He listened instead, his hearing acute, compensation for the loss of his eye… The muffled voices he heard now, were not the laughing, carefree ones that he had grown almost fond of at the cottage. These were coarse, ill mannered in tone and expression. The first shout from beyond made it plain that he was no longer where he had been. He shifted and knew the bed was far from the comfortable one he had grown use to over the past few nights. And worse, the place She had come to occupy close by his right, was cold and empty.

“Aurore!”

Sterling bolted upright to sitting, then folded over where he sat, crying out. He next heard footsteps, felt the bed dip besides him ever so slightly and hands were laid upon his shoulders, righting him then smoothed about his head, which was gently brought to rest upon soft flesh.

When the white lightening eased in his mind as the pain in his body steadied, he could hear her heart beating as she held him close. His good arm moved about her waist, seizing her hard. “By God I had thought I had only dreamed you,” he whispered.

By now the door to the room had opened and a sleepy eyed steward, growing more alert as he entered, was ready for what ever orders. Symms looked to the young woman, who held his captain with a surety he found comforting.

“Do ye want me to be fetchin yer doctor Mistress?” the old man said softly. Aurore gave a brief shake of her head.

“We are all right,” she whispered, as she held Sterling tightly to her. “I am sorry we disturbed you.”

Symms nodded in reply then slowly closed the door on his way back out.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Easing him back to pillow support, Aurore left his side briefly to ignite small oil lamp. The flame was adjusted to low lumination then she returned to former placement. Brushing stray tress from his forehead, she spoke softly in the half shadows of dim surrounds.

"You must rest, cher amour...Are you in discomfort? Shall I attend?"

[Matthew Hazzards]

I made me way down and out of the inn in right quick fashion. After the journey in of me Captain and the strain that was apparant in his eyes and the concern in Mr. March's expression as well, twas all I needed to know that getting word to Captain Striker was of utmost importance.

And yet, as I made me way through the low life of the port, I did find me the chance to think on the young lady the captain had introduced as his future wife. A lovely choice she be, if her character equals her good looks, thought I.

I arrived at the Shipp and entered and found the other Captain at meal entertaining a lass of his own. I made me way over to his table, doffed me hat and bowed to him and his woman.

"Captain Sterling," says I," has made his way back into the port. Right well he is but worn from his trip. He begs ye to call upon him if ye be still willing at 7 bells the Forenoon watch."

[Capt. Sterling]

"Something to drink, my mouth is dry," Sterling whispered, indeed his voice was harsh as he spoke. "Where were ye? I can not have ye sittin up all night watchin over me. Twill be ye next, not well from all this, and I shall not have it, Chere. It will not do."

[Aurore Devareaux]

She procured water from heavy clay pitcher and handed its' matching crude cup to him, making sure his grip was steady before drawing back.

"Rest comes when time affords such, cher. I promise I shall not overdue."

Aurore smiled with ironic texture and chided him with next statement,

"And who is it that will not take care of themselves when rest is order of the day?"

A gentle kiss was laid on his forehead, then she drew back chuckling.

[Capt. Sterling]

He looked at her, completely taken aback by her comment.

"Do ye know me that well already Chere?" he asked. He gave a mock sigh. "I see I shall be hard pressed when ye and Mr. March come to each other's aide when it comes to my welfare. I'll have a mutiny on my hands in no time."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Beggar Prince and entourage reined in within the shadows and darkness of late hour. The lane was silent but for the distant sound of late night denizens still slinking the docks and taverns. The quiet roar of salt domains echoed hauntingly with steady rhythems, disrupted by the sharp bark of local cur scavanging unseen.

Sabastian slipped from equine perch, glancing upward to roof edge and the hint of yellow glow that eeked its' aura softly at heavens' break. His focus tarried there briefly as the sihlouette of feline form appreared, dancing percarious roof line.

Deserting company, he moved with stealth step to alcove containing doorway and made pressence known to eccentric scholar housed within.

[Aurore Devareaux]

"Perhaps I do..." she said with coy return. "And mutiny is not in my being, Sucre'. But, I cannot vouche for your Monsieur March."

Early hour streets sounds drifted up to open windows and she thought briefly, how much discord it seemed next to what she was accustomed to.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Thank ye," he said, returning the cup, now empty, to her safe keeping.

"Not a word of yer bullying to Mr. Symms, mind ye, or I shall be out numbered three to one. " He smiled briefly, his expression changing to one of thoughtfulness as he watched her. "I do not deserve ye, Chere," he whispered as she returned the cup to its place besides the pitcher.

[Aurore Devareaux]

"Meriter?..." She resumed her place at Sterling's side. " All deserve to have someone to look after them, to act as balance and support to their quirks...and most of all, to love them with deepest sincerity. It is a gift of Fate that not everyone is bestowed with. Perhaps it is me that truly does not deserve you....Though I am ever gratefull."

[Capt. Sterling]

He reached up and ran the backs of several fingers along her cheek and down her slender throat. Her skin was so soft. As he looked into her eyes, for a brief span of time, he completely forgot all else.

"La gardienne de mon coeur," he whispered, his fingers repeating their movement.

"I shall need ye tomorrow, when this Striker fellow comes calling. I wish ye to be at my side. I rely upon yer wits and yer knowledge of the Port, ma beaute`, and will be grateful for yer input regarding what Captain Striker may say."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Her eyes closed in response to his touch and words of soft render, but opened full to request.

"If that is what you wish, but I am not familliar with his name. He has never been in any accord with us that I can recall...Are you sure you would not prefer Sabastian's ear in this situation? It is not that I am not capable in said capacities, I just wish for you to be comfortable with judgements passed."

[Capt. Sterling]

"Nay tis ye I wish with me. I shall ask Mr. March as well. I fear I could not pass off Sabastian if Striker feels not comfortable with sharing his news. Tis the very reason this trip in was neccessary."

Sterling tried not to yawn, but was defeated in his attempt. With a last stroke of his finger along the edge of her chemise, he brought his hand to cover his mouth. "Ye will do well Chere, whether ye know the man or not. Now, since I be needing ye, tis not only myself that should best be returning to slumber. Come, lay with me Chere. I need ye by my side in more ways then one."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The lamp was extinguished, and for a brief, Aurore considered deserting the simple cotton shift that cladded earth toned flesh. She had never cared for shrouding during sleep, outside of bedlinens that lay loose over skin, much given to the feel of breeze caress. As she reached to shift hem, the sudden reality of where they were came crashing home and, that there was no guarantee of total privacy. The shift was left in place.

Climbing onto the semi-comfort of inn offering, Aurore melded to Sterling's right side; one delicate arm entwined around his own.

[Capt. Sterling]

As she nestled close to him, he closed his eyes. Her touch, her warmth, her sweet scent, were all he needed to rest easy. Or so he had hoped...He wished he could have said as much for the others waiting and watching beyond the door and below in the pub.

Come morning, he prayed this Striker would somehow have the answers he needed to set all to rights once more. Of course once the known danger was put aside he could carry on with his want of money, the still lacking letters of Marque, Morgan's delay.... as his brain filled with the usual business of every day life, he wondered for the first time if he had done the right thing by asking Aurore to marry him. "Oh Cate, what will I do?" he mumbled with another yawn.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Jane hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the meal arrived. The scent of fresh bread made her stomach tense. She swallowed heavily, licking her lip in anticipation of the filling fair. The young bar maid smiled coyly at Striker, batting her brown eyes as she set his plate down. The man seemed oblivious to the attention.

“I think she fancies you” Jane pointed out, watching the girl make sidelong glances at him from the other side of the bar.

"Does not matter if she does or does not ... well not at present time at least”

Jane’s brow furrowed at his reply. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a man not interested in a pretty lady before. What ever he waited for must be pretty serious to distract him from even the most basic desire. Jane’s mind ran over all the possibilities, comforted little by her companion’s sizable collection of pistols.

Greedily Jane spooned the thick stew into her mouth, tearing off a chunk of bread with her teeth. The warmth filled the emptiness in her stomach easily. She looked deep into the glass of port Striker offered before taking a sip, remembering the last time she had enjoyed the warm, sweet alcohol. It had been just before her husband’s funeral. She had emptied nearly an entire bottle that morning, trying to find the sorrow that everyone else expected from her. Instead she had been left with a sour stomach and loose tongue.

Suddenly Jane was aware of Striker’s sharp blue eyes watching her. The spoon stilled over the nearly empty bowl. She glanced sideways, felling a rush of red flush her face. The combination of rum and now port and hearty meal were loosening her up more than she intended. She had never been “right & proper” in even the slightest way. The taste of freedom she had earned while sailing had only exacerbated her lack of manors. She was sure to find herself in some measure of trouble if care was not taken.

As Jane was about to apologize for her uncouth behavior, a neatly dressed gentleman approached their table. He removed his hat with a broad sweep, exposing a shock of glaringly orange hair.

"Captain Sterling, has made his way back into the port. Right well he is but worn from his trip. He begs ye to call upon him if ye be still willing at 7 bells the Forenoon watch."

Jane’s attention bounced between the two men. Strikers face shifted at the others address, the cold blue glare returning to his eyes. The other man’s words were reassuring but the entire interaction left Jane feeling terribly uncomfortable. It seemed as if the sands were changing under his very feet. Striker nodded his agreement with the altered terms but made little attempt to hide his displeasure with the situation. As the other man departed Jane turned her focus back to her companion, raising a quizzical eyebrow yet staying uncharacteristically silent.

[Captain Striker]

I arrived at the Shipp and entered and found the other Captain at meal entertaining a lass of his own. I made me way over to his table, doffed me hat and bowed to him and his woman.

"Captain Sterling," says I," has made his way back into the port. Right well he is but worn from his trip. He begs ye to call upon him if ye be still willing at 7 bells the Forenoon watch."

Striker's eyes could not hide the annoyence that he felt , but then he thought about Sterling's situation . He was shot and only God and Sterling's entourage knew where and how serious the injuries were.

"I will accept that the Captain has to rest. Tell him that I can be found onboard my ship La Maligna , it is docked at the North Docks ."

He then gave a nod to Mr. Hazzards and bid him farewell. Hazzards turned around and went out of the inn .

Striker's thoughts started to pull him in different directions. Did Sterling play Cat and Mouse with him or was he truthfull with his intensions ?

His attention was suddenly focused upon Jane that seemed to be very quiet and looked as if she wanted some form of answer to the enigma she had stumbled on , which was the meeting between Sterling and him.

"Guess the wait here is over and a new one begins . Think I will be heading back to my ship , if ye wish ye can follow . " He said and looked at Jane that had finished her supper and were looking at him with astonishment .

[Capt. Sterling]

She felt his kiss, waking her, despite its tenderness there was an obvious hunger companioned with it. She opened her eyes slowly and found him standing over her, already having vacated the bed, clad in not much more than a multitude of bandages and an old banyan.

“Good morning, Chere,” he whispered as he straightened. She blinked a moment, her eyes growing quickly accustomed to the day light. There was not much to the new morning, dismal and gray. She could hear the soft, steady patter of more rain outside. She stretched not willing to leave the warmth of their bed and as she did, he felt obliged to turn away from her. Her motions, her form, more than he could resist.

She watched him as he moved to the mantel and retrieved a black clay pipe and began to pack the bowl with tobacco. “I’m sorry Chere,” he continued. “But we must be about business, I’m afraid. Already Mr. Hazzards, Mr. March and Mr. Symms have come and gone.” He glanced back over his shoulder quickly toward her. “It seems I am not the only one who was in need of some slumber.” He did not smile, but she could see a certain glint in his good eye, its green sparkling with some secret mischief. He turned away again, searching for a taper. Perhaps, now, she thought, regardless of his injuries, he was in his element.

“Mr. Hazzards tells me that we must make our way over to see Striker. The man will not budge any further to come convenience us by calling here. We must away to his ship.”

“No, Jean,” she protested mildly, but then he heard the whisper of her bare feet as they touched lightly upon the old wooden planking of the floor. He stood still a moment, listening as she padded gently to him and closed his eyes as her arms wrapped about his waist. Pulling herself closer to him, he felt her lay her head gently against his back. He breathed softly, content for the moment.

“And I thought ye would play the lay about all day. Tis good to see ye are not a lazy thing,” he teased. He turned then to face her, bringing the pipe to his lips, he clenched it between his teeth, then brought her inside the folds of the long, loose robe, his good arm now encircling her shoulders as he held her close. “We have an hour before Mr. Symms returns with the morning meal. Shall I lock the door, Chere?” he whispered. Then fingering the shoulder edge of her chemise, he added, “Take this off for me, will ye, mon amour?”