Port Royal, Jamaica

[Aurore Devareaux]

It was unknown to him which assault of senses occurred first. The smallish shaft of sunlight abused his sight even through closed lids; the throb of head and jaw jockeyed for one up...but it was the acrid smell hanging the air which ruled them all. Daring a cracking of reluctant eyes, Sabastian cringed, rolling a degree to the left on well worn chaise to dodge impertinent soliel. Shadow of dim chamber coming to aid, he dared more wide appraisal of surround without further movement.

What was given with coup d'oeil gave some sign of familiarity, but not enough to gain true perspective in current haze. Raising to one elbow in support, he sniffed the air tentatively with greatened displeasure and tried to place his proximity in the world. The scent...what was it that tugged at the corners of his mind as needy child yet refused to be forth front in recognition?

From somewhere above, the sound of mallet application gave forth like clarion call and he winced unthinking in reaction. Easing to sitting position, under breath curse was issued in tandem towards the sudden explosion of cranial fortitude and the persistence of laborer's efforts. Worn quilt slid away and chin was rubbed in semi-thoughtful contemplation of events leading up to the present.

Bruised mental wheels rolled haltingly into pattern of recollections that where enigmatic in some ways....' La Mademoiselle...Christophe...Aurore...Noir....Archangel...the Old Church.....Molly...' His breath paused in its' traverse then regained active status. ' The Singing Bull....' And it was at the drinking establishment in question, that things became quite vague.

"Merde' zut..." Two words uttered in hushed tone to summarize the now. With careful consideration, Sabastian raised to full height, resisting the urge to give further verbose of colorful means. Drawing breath as hiss through clenched jaw, his nose wrinkled in unconscious retort to the elusive smell.

Movement of fluid grace in yon hallway caught peripheral attention and Beggar Prince turned ever so slightly to focus its' origins.....'Chat' was the name of velvet toed interloper, he thought silently....His eyes narrowed as all suddenly fell into place.

'La chat....sulphur.......Trilby....'

Sabastian sat heavily upon former place of repose; cushions emitting a waft of dust in protest, "Coit…”

[Professor Angus Trilby]

Trilby stood in the center of his rooftop patio keeping a watchful eye on the two laborers fixing his roof. One was a fat, stocky man who Trilby feared would fall through the roof rather than fix it. "Mind where yea step, yea clumbsy idiot," he shouted, as the man dropped a tile, which slid to the edge of the roof, slipped over and crashed into the patio, narrowly missing the mounted dog skeleton. "Drop another, yea bleeding, flea-infested son of a cane-rat, and I'll skin yea alive." Trilby railed.

Souris popped his head through the door which led into the house. "Dat man below, he be awake now."

Trilby pulled his attention away from the roof. "Is he, by God? Well, we'd best go see to him then.

He followed the houseboy down the stairs and into the spare room where he'd pushed, pulled, and finally shoved a drunken Sebastian into bed in the early hours of the morning.

"Sae, it's alive, is it?" He cocked a bushy red brow. "Though I must say, yea look like something the gulls been picking at. While Souris brews yea up some stong coffee, why don't yea tell me just why in blazes yea came pounding on my door at the crack a' dawn, sae reeling drunk yea could nea stand?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sabastian made half hearted attempt to look insulted and waved at the other in gesture to lower the volume of vocal facets. Upon the roof, workers resumed mallet cadence which instantaniously brought sneer to lupine features. Painfully returning to full heigth, the dark eyes settled on Scotch Inquisitionor and with an offering of aloof mannerisims, answer was given....

"Was it not you that requested audience?...It was to mine thinking that you were in desire of....supplies."

Beggar Prince knew inwardly that every bit of it was bold faced lie...and a poor effort, at that.

[Professor Angus Trilby]

Trilby lauged. 'Ah, and aren't yea the rare one? Practically ready tae spew on mae clean floor, yet still playing the innocent. And why would I be needing supplies ordered or delivered in the murder hours of the morning, eh?" Then he paused. "Although, if yea happen tae have a bit of powdered orris root on yea, that'd be a handy thing."

He moved to a nearby shelf where a glass vial sat filled with an amber liquid. When Souris returned with a large mug of coffee, Trilby emptied the vial into the steaming liquid and then handed the cup to Sebastian. "Here, this should ease the cannons going off in your head."

Trilby watched as Sebastian eyed the drink with suspicion.

"It's nae poison. Not only will it ease the grenados in your head, but it will also ease the pain in that bruised jaw of yours. Must hae been an interesting night, Sebastian, even for a Devereaux."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Dauphin Gitan eyed the mug and Academic with leary regard briefly, then nodded acceptance of both. The mention of jaw tatooing caused unthinking change to the way he postured head; as if angle would vanquish angry mark.

Suprisingly, the vial's content blended well with cafe' chemistry, causing deeper draught to follow the initial one of shallow sample. Slender fingers spidered around clay circumfrence as mug was lowered to waist level. Sabastian appraised Trilby silently, then inquired with hushed tone.

"La Fille that you brought to mine audience....What is it that you know of her?"

[Professor Angus Trilby]

"Fille? Fille? I don't know any...oh, you mean that red-headed she-devil." Trilby eyed the man with sudden delighted interest. "And just what would yea be needing tae know about her, that yea could nae ask her yourself?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

"I would assume that you would be the keeper of far more information than would be polite for me to ask."

The clay vessel's contents were diminished.

"I cannot see you putting yourself in bad favor with me and mine by wagering a chance arrangment of what she wishes to trade. You obviously have some connection or trust to summon me for the proposition....Do tell, for I am quite inclined to listen."

[Professor Angus Trilby]

It suddenly struck Trilby that the man was quite serious. Had something about the business arrangement gone sour? Had the woman attempted to cheat the Devareauxs? Had the stupid woman put in jepardy his own relationship with the clan? If so, he'd find the hussy and deal with her himself.

Sebastian's question didn't have the tone of an inquisition, but Trilby tread carefully. "Well, I can nae say that I ken her especially well. She broke into mae house during that ruckus with Killingsworth. We got tae talking, and one thing led tae another. If I'm honest with maeself, I'd say that I like her, despite her unnatural manner of making a living. When she told me the nature of the cargo she was needing tae sell, I thought of you and your family. Did something go amiss?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

The cafe' concoction was easing tendrils around to clutch the pain, and with it came a slow, but steady mounting of relief. The thrum retreating its' hold, Gitan watched Trilby with keener intentions. There were subtle nuances which betrayed irritation underlying Accademic's surface and Sabastian was amused in subteraine level.

Turning away to place mug on nearest horizontal plane, he allowed the trust of exposed back, pursing lips in thought. The silence was allowed rule mommentarily as stance was maintained.

"Non..." came the answer. "It is but of idle curiosity...the proposition is quite well suited in possibilities."

[Professor Angus Trilby]

Now Trilby's interest was piqued even more. The Devareauxs never had idle interestest in anyone. What had occured between the two that would have Sebastian asking such questions? The fact that Sebastian had turned his back, so that Trilby couldn't read the expression on his face, told volumes.

Trilby chuckled, shook his head, and thought to himself, "Sae, that's the way of it." He said nothing of those thoughts to the man still sitting on the edge of the spare bed. Instead, he turned toward the door. "Souris will bring yea a basin of hot water and a towel. Make yourself presentable. By that time I'll hae some breakfast ready, along with more coffee. Within a half an hour or sae, yea might begin tae feel like a human being again." Then he withdrew to give the young man some privacy.

[Aurore Devareaux]

He watched after the Trilby's departure with guarded scrutiny. There had been a glint of something in Other's eyes that balanced between amusement and secretive knowing; both were of bemusement to the beholder. Glancing to discarded coat laying in innocent lump upon the floor, Sabastian's expression wrinkled in dissatisfaction. Presentable.... he thought, a rather lofty thing to be acquired with current state of being. Nevertheless, best would be made due with what could be done. Perhaps the coming water would do much to improve...But glancing down at the disheveling of current attire left much to be desired.

The thrum was becoming a duller roar, a little more manageable with time's passage. Perhaps, he considered, upon departure from Academic’s holdings, another safe haven should be sought to sleep off the sin's of former eve's reaping.

[Ransom]

With the note crumpled in my hand, I stood and addressed my first mate. "I need to go ashore again. I need to see if Trilby survived the storm, and I need to take care of"...I looked again at the note.."other things. If Sebastian sends a note concerning the exchange of cargo before I get back, send it to the Professor's house."

I left the ship with haste, jogging through the busy streets of Port Royal until I arrived at the Professor's house. I noticed men working on the roof replacing tiles, but other than that, his place seemed to have survived the tempest with little damage. In some agitation, I pounded on the door, wishing to delay the other mission I would soon be forced to embark on.

Souris opened the door and let me in, his eyes wide with surprise.

Stepping into the foyer, I asked, "Where is the Professor? I need to speak—" As I passed an open door leading into another room, I stopped in my tracks. "Sebastian?"

At that moment, Professor Trilby came from the kitchen. His grizzled face broke into a wide smile. "Ah, how fortuitous. Come, join us for breakfast. Let mae just lay down an extra plate."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The hail sounding on domicile’s main entrance gave pause to the action of drying. Sabastian's attention flicked to where coat, shirt and breeches lay on chaise as he resisted reaching for concealed traveling pistols. Taking sidestep, damp cloth was held as afterthought and clothing proximity brought nearer. He cocked his head slightly to the left, centering on portal's opening as boots were gathered, and the voice which carried from foyer's round stopped any further intents.

Movement in corridor caused rapid turn on heel to gain full sight of room thresh hold, Ransom's voicing a reflection of the urgency in her step; both faltering as she was framed in doorway. The call of his name conjured a pace forward that was paused before a second was achieved. Boots dangling in one hand's grasp, drying cloth in another, he opened his mouth to speak and faultered at the sound of other footsteps playing corridor's containment.

Suddenly conscious of his current state of disarray, Sabastian shifted footing with hinted discomfort then recovered. There was no missing the tincture of humor in Trilby's relay of words and Beggar Prince found himself wishing for any other surround then the one he now occupied.

Standing with straighter posture, he realigned composure and offered shallow bow of acknowledgment. With effort, an air of aloof mannerisms was gathered as shrouding; but act of faux pretense could not cover all.

The dark sights were drawn and held unwavering from her face; undaunted and defiant to owner's wishes.

"Pardon moi, Mademoiselle...You seem to have caught me at some disadvantage..."

The words gave further betrayal in tone and Sabastian cringed inwardly as they sounded to own hearing. Trilby's glance further emphasized the obvious faux pas and Beggar Prince turned away to retrieve cast away shirt; an effort to recapture the edges of charade.

[Andrew March]

Cursing a blue streak now, but entirely under his breath, Andrew March hurried down to the pier and shouted to Sterling to come up out of the harbor straight way. The captain only rolled his eyes but due to his first officer’s consternation, he did as was asked, pulling on the banyan March had grabbed from the quarterdeck railing as he made his descent to the earth.

“Good heavens Andrew, ye worry entirely too much,” Sterling muttered. “Tis just a swim about. Tis not as if I have not indulged before in such a manner!”

“Aye I’ll warrant that, but has always been in some area more private or just about the crew, not in the bloody public harbor of Port Royal.”

“I’ve seen others in the harbor since our arrival,” Sterling insisted.

“Aye, children and young lads and certainly not of yer position or condition. Hell John, come to yer senses, tis time ye start admitting to yerself and others that yer not well and ye need some time to get yerself back together. If ..”

Sterling immediately straightened to his full height, bristling, fist raised in anger, but managed to place a check on himself.

“Enough said Mr. March. Another word on the matter and I shall cut thy tongue out myself. Thou didst give me thy word.”

“And ye gave me yers!”

The two men stood and glared at each other, several minutes ticking past until Sterling sighed heavily and forced himself to settle down.

“I am sorry Andrew,” he said.

“As am I as well. This is not something anyone would wish for. John ye know that there is still…”

Sterling shook his head. “No more for the present,” he interrupted. “I can think of far better things to set my mind upon.” He smiled at March. “Like a good meal…”

“And a drink ?” the first officer added with a grin.

“My tis grand how well we think alike. And alcohol has absolutely nothing to do with it,” Sterling said, with a snigger. “Well enough, I shall see to some dry clothing and have Mr. Symms escort Aurore home. I cannot abide having her about, knowing how uncomfortable she is. She flinches at every creak and groan the ‘Angel offers. Tis no place for her and I shall not have her come to worry, harm or illness due to my ship or me.”

The two fell into step along side each other as they made their way back to the Archangel.

“Then ye have not told her yet?” March asked, as they walked.

Sterling shook his head. “No,” was all he answered.

[Capt. Sterling]

An hour later found March and Sterling half way through some Dutch pudding. With already two bottles of port and rum squared away, they both had a tendency to drink themselves through a meal, and yet food had managed to have been ordered. Pipe smoke encircled their small table as a break ensued between mouthfuls and another call for more rum.

“I would like to be under way no later than Monday,” Sterling announced as he laid his spoon alongside pewter plate and reached once again for his pipe.

“Beggin yer pardon Captain, but I cannot see how. I know ye mean well where Mistress McKinney is concerned but we’ve a bit of storm damage still to attend to and … well… the casks will take some time in mending. Not to mention, ye still be in need of a rest. A bit more delay would do us all good,” March replied.

“You explain that to Lilly,” Sterling muttered with a slight frown that quickly changed to a deep chuckle the more he thought about it.

March only sat back in his chair, none too pleased with his captain’s suggestion.

Sterling could not help but laugh then. “All right then I shall see to the actress. Hopefully she will take me at my word. Good God, been through a lot in the past year she has.”

“Aye but then she could have married ye right off and none of it, would she have had to go alone.” March poured Sterling another glass of port and helped himself to more rum. He took a hefty sip before leaning close across the distance of table and spread of fare. “Do not be letting her get her hooks into ye again John. It will prove no good to any of us, especially you.”

[Ransom]

....Suddenly conscious of his current state of disarray, Sabastian shifted footing with hinted discomfort then recovered. There was no missing the tincture of humor in Trilby's relay of words and Beggar Prince found himself wishing for any other surround then the one he now occupied.

Standing with straighter posture, he realigned composure and offered shallow bow of acknowledgment. With effort, an air of aloof mannerisms was gathered as shrouding; but act of faux pretense could not cover all.

The dark sights were drawn and held unwavering from her face; undaunted and defiant to owner's wishes.

"Pardon moi, Mademoiselle...You seem to have caught me at some disadvantage..."

The words gave further betrayal in tone and Sabastian cringed inwardly as they sounded to own hearing. Trilby's glance further emphasized the obvious faux pas and Beggar Prince turned away to retrieve cast away shirt; an effort to recapture the edges of charade.

For a moment, all I could do was stare in total disbelief. Sebastian stood stark naked in the middle of the room, boots in one hand, and white towel in the other. The bruise on his jaw had darkened, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, but his demeanor was haughty as ever. I tried, I really did try not to, but it was impossible, especially when he turned to retrieve his clothes and presented me with a picture of his beautiful stern.

I laughed. I attempted to stifle it by putting my hands over my mouth, but it did no good. I laughed until tears coursed down my cheeks — but I did not budge from the doorway. This image of the Gypsy Prince I would remember for the rest of my life. "Disadvantage indeed, sir".... I choked..."But, a very...enjoyeable disadvantage, I must say"...more choking and wiping of eyes..."What in God's name?...deep breath..."What in God's name are you doing here?"

Trilby stood behind me and remarked with a smirk, "Oh, it nae had anything tae do with the Lord Almighty. It were the almighty rum bottle that put him on mae doorstep before dawn this morning, drunk as a lord, and nae sae light on his feet."

With a grin a mile wide, I contined to watch Sebastian attempt to salvage what was left of his dignity.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Under normal circumstances, he had no cares as to a woman getting fair share of eyeful...But this was far from the norms and her laughter just made worse of the situation. In the recesses of his mind, Sabastian tried to shrug it off; nevertheless, it was a futile effort at best. Dark eyes narrowed slightly as backing step was taken and boots dropped to flooring below. Drying cloth was placed strategically with nonchalant air and shirt was acquired. This soon presented another quandary, to adorn shirt required two hands, and two hands ment releasing cloth.

Mind raced under cool surface to find the answer to problem which continued to come up one way. The adorning was out of the question, issue's resolution came with another back pace, the edge of chaise meeting with calves and Beggar Prince took seating.

Cloth was kept in place.

[Ransom]

It kept getting funnier. His abortive attempt to cover himself and put on his shirt at the same time, had me chorteling again. When he sat down on the couch, I could stand it no longer.

"Would you care for some assistance, sir? I would be more than happy to play the valet. Help you into your breeches, perhaps?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Brow was raised to her comment, and his line of sight went from breeches, to Ransom, to Trilby. Shirt now in place, Sabastian stood with proud posturing; knowing full well the legnth of linen tail would muster adequet coverage. Fluid stride was made to cut distance of chamber's range, coming to halt a hair's breadth afore his antagonist.

Voice dropping to soft, low timbre', he leaned forward to meet Ransom eye to eye.

"If you feel that you are qualified to do so, then very well...I shall give you permission to persue offer...."

Leaning closer to her left ear, he whispered challenge.

"But, would you not rather leave them where they are?"

[Ransom]

Brow was raised to her comment, and his line of sight went from breeches, to Ransom, to Trilby. Shirt now in place, Sabastian stood with proud posturing; knowing full well the legnth of shirt tail would be adequet coverage. Fluid stride was made to cut the distance of chamber's range, coming to halt a hair's breadth afore his antagonist.

Voice dropping to soft, low timbre', he leaned forward to meet Ransom eye to eye.

"If you feel that you are qualified to do so, then very well...I shall give you permission to do as you offer...."

Leaning closer to her left ear, he whispered challenge.

"But, would you not rather leave them where they are?"

My smile changed to one quite different, and I brushed a stray lock of dark hair away from his bruised face. "Oh, be assured, I would love to leave them where they are, but I think now is not the time or place. But I would derive a great deal of pleasure out of helping you into the rest of your clothes. I'm an inexpert valet. You might have to instruct me on the proper maner of doing things." The grin was back. "And, alas," I sighed theatrically, "I am a slow learner. You might have to repeat the instructions several times, and let me practice until I am perfect."

Behind me, Trilby let out a loud snort. "The man is perfectly capable of dressing himself. If yea was any decent sort of woman, yea'd hae shut the door the minute yea saw what state he was in."

I never took my eyes away from Sebastian's. "Ah, but then, I never said I was a decent woman." Still addressing the Professor, I gave the breechless man in front of me a wink. "But you're right, I should leave him to get dressed on his own. After all, breakfast — or by this time of day, lunch — is no doubt getting cold."

I will leave you, sir, and wait for you in the kitchen." I gave Sebastian a polite bow, and followed Trilby to the other room.

[Aurore Devareaux]

He watched after as they departed room, Trilby closing the door behind. Ransom's tease still rang within his ears, taking seat and rattling the corridors of mental realm. Momments passed before Sabastian returned to chaise company, where he sat heavily on cushioned surface. Instinct screamed to have its' due, saying it would be for the best to dress and slip out front entrance and onward to some quiet out of the way place... Away from the temptation of red tress and the trouble that would more than likely be had from it.

Half-heartedly pantalons, then boots were replaced; shirt was tucked and coat donned. Quietly, chamber door was opened and he glanced Right, towards kitchen and the conversation that wafted from there, then Left to the foyer and escape beyond. Inward voice chimed with eager warning to go left, but sabastian was not always known for taking heed.

Caution sometimes begged throwing to the wind, and Right bearing was choosen.

[Nimrod Pinon]

Pinon had holed up during the storm in one of many places he found at his disposal. And with its passing, he had made his way back out into the streets. His carriage, looks and somber clothing allowed him the privilege of not needing to thread his way through a crowd. Quite the contrary, except for the young lasses who lost themselves in the iciness of his eyes and distinct, straight, black hair, most folks saw him coming and gave him a wide berth. They found him rather… unsettling. He had not come to make friends though. What good were friends unless one could truly count on them in a tight situation? Pinon made certain that those who found themselves such were never himself but them he did business with. He smiled to himself, thin flesh pulling tautly over teeth no better nor no worse then most of the populace.

He now sat in the back corner of one of the local dives, a drink at hand, his watch moving quickly over the slight number of patrons, seemed people were still to busy cleaning up to frequent inns and taverns for lunch. He settled his attentions finally on the only two somewhat amusing characters in the center of the room. Two mariners, set upon getting drunk more than enjoying their meal. Two officers, or so it appeared, at least one seemed to ape the behavior of a gentleman. Pinon snorted to himself , then took a pull of the tankard he held. Twas the same fool he had seen just earlier, swimming in the harbor, his long blond hair, still wet and dripping about his shoulders. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, Pinon looked about, made eye contact with one of the wenches and signaled for her to come over.

[Capt. Sterling]

“We shall do our best Captain,” March said as the two men left after their meal.

“Of that, Andrew, I have no doubt,” Sterling remarked, pulling black gloves back into place. Coins were placed on the bar top and both made their way outside and began walking back toward the wharf. “Still I would rather we send out the recruiters first before we send in a press gang. I prefer volunteers over taking men from their loved ones by force. Tis only 17 men after all, surely with the storm having just passed, there are those that will be happy for work, if their previous ship is to be delayed long for repairs or is,” he could not help but shudder at the thought. “Or is out of commission completely.”

“Aye of course sir,” March agreed. “De Dogge will show em a good enough time, they’ll be making their marks in an instant. But if… will ye want to be going with us then?”

Sterling nodded his head in agreement. “Aye, too many of Le Cour Des Grand Corbeau's folk milling about. Cannot have them taken by mistake. Damn me if we sailed the next morning with Devareaux’s men, I would never hear the end of it when we returned.” He came to a halt outside the livery stable. “We shall part ways here Mr. March,” Sterling said, his tone not to be argued with.

[Cheeky Actress]

The stench of sick caught her off guard as she turned again in her bed trying to get comfortable. She did not sleep well that evening. Lilly moaned in pitiful agony once again. She could only blame herself for taking too much cider with the Scottish Captain the night before. Her whole body shook and she could still taste the vile remains of her sick in her mouth. She tried to sit up in bed and look out her small window.

The afternoon sun now high in the sky and its’ heat penetrated her little room at the top of the stairs. She felt as if a great weight pressed upon her. Her head splitting in pain as she once again lent over the side of the bed, making sick once more.

"God help me!" She said as she pulled herself back and laid down upon her bed.

[Andrew March]

He came to a halt outside the livery stable.  “We shall part ways here Mr. March,” Sterling said, his tone not to be argued with.

But Andrew March was not one to go peacefully.

"Part ways?" the first officer asked. "Surely yer coming back to the ship fer the night?"

Sterling's eyes narrowed a pace. "I have no intentions of doing as ye ask. I wish to go home and spend some time with my wife."

Now was March's turn for eyes to narrow as a frown was quickly spreading over the concern that marked his face.

"Home?! Not that I be against ye spending time with Mistress Sterling, but do ye not think it wiser ye stay onboard, where the likes of me and Mr. Symms can keep an eye on ye? Not to mention we have a doctor close at hand, if needed."

Sterling rested one hand upon his friend's shoulder. "I am all right ... for now. And a comfortable bed well do me far better than that blasted old crib of mine. If space were not so lacking as is, a decent bunk would suit me fine in my quarters but such is not the case. No, Andrew, tis home I should like to go for this night at least. We shall sail soon enough and what little time I may have, I would like to spend it with my wife."

"Well then, since yer mind is set, I shall ride a pace with ye then," March said.

"As ye like. Your company shall not go unappreciated," Sterling said, he turned and opened the door to the stables' office and waved his first officer ahead of him.

"Ye will tell her before we sail with Mistress McKinney?" March asked once inside.

Sterling thought a moment after asking for the owner, the Chestnut and one additional mount for March. "If I were to insist upon an anullment, then perhaps it would not be wrong to tell her. But since ye have convinced me to continue with my marriage, no, I will not tell her. Why have her worry about something none of us can do anything about?"

March said nothing, nor was there any physical sign of agreement, and yet understanding was made between the two. He walked away, deep in thought, as owner made his apperance and Sterling began to haggle over the purchase price of the Chestnut.