...Her mouth hung open a moment, and she nearly refused the offer. I've lived with pirates for a long time, now, Captain -- I won't be needing separate quarters. But then again, wasn't there a strange sort of power in perceived powerlessness? Let him think she needed to be accommodated, and perhaps he may continue to accommodate her. With a gentler look, she nodded her head and made a grand show of smoothing her wind-whipped hair. Play the gallant ferryman for a fool, Whitby, and maybe you'll come out on top.

"Of course. Separate. That will do. Even still, your men won't like having me aboard. Pity that old man saw me. Pity he knows me for a woman."

Pity, indeed. Inwardly, her spirits soared. She was bone-tired of pretending to be a man. She'd been bone-tired of it five months ago when she'd foolishly trusted her crew's loyalty and revealed herself to be what she was -- and not even a Slayer's assets could persuade half her crew from mutinying against a woman captain.