Cyrus seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “How old is she?”

“Nineteen,” said Finn without missing a beat, pushing himself up to his feet and brushing sand off his chest. “Completely of age. I asked last night, don’t worry.”

“Nineteen? So Fiear was … babysitting her,” Leta put in innocently as Corra roared with laughter. “Wow, that’s so generous of you, captain.”

Fiearius glanced shortly at her, not particularly interested in their commentary on his little misstep. There was a much bigger issue he had yet to wrap his head around. Ignoring Leta, he caught Finn’s eye. “People were after me ‘cause of her? Why?”

“Ah … well,” began Finn, smirking uncertainly, “Think you might’ve accidentally kidnapped her, mate.”

As Fiearius stared at him, dumbfounded, Cyrus snorted and muttered, “Well that’s new.”

“Very new,” Leta agreed, “not everyday Fiear agrees to do something as nice as adopt a child — “

“In Fiear’s defense,” interrupted Finn loudly, raising his voice as if he were a lawyer on trial, “she is, in fact, as I said, nineteen. And more importantly, he was doing her a favor. Pretty sure she wanted to get away herself. He was helping.”

He gave Fiearius’ shoulder a brotherly shake. But then he glanced warily in Richelle’s direction and mumbled, “Really, though … probably should drop her back off somewhere … “

“Yeah, like at a daycare,” Leta snapped. Cyrus snorted.

Well, this was starting to get away from him now, wasn’t it? Fiearius ran his hand through his hair and sighed slowly. Before he even asked, he was nearly certain he knew the answer. But he had to ask it nonetheless. “And where did I find her exactly?”

“Out on the peninsula,” said Finn and, just to confirm Fiearius’ worst fears, “At Jodar Donovan’s estate. She’s his daughter.”

Of course, the one night he decided to take up kidnapping had to be the night he also decided to pay a drunken visit to the most powerful man in Paraven. And ‘steal’ his daughter. His nineteen year old daughter. Fiearius felt his stomach turn over with anger and disgust and absolute frustration. Just his fucking luck.

But there was still time to fix this. He could just give her back and run for it. Everything would be fine. If only–

Abruptly, he spun around and pointed up at the girl still standing firmly rooted at the top of the ramp. “You! Get off my ship!”

Richelle just planted herself more firmly and shouted back, “No! I’m not going back there!”

“Yes you are, get off my ship! Now!”

“You promised!” she cried. “You promised you’d take me away from here!”

“That was before I found out taking you away from here is likely to get me killed.” He took a firm step towards the ramp. “Get down here.”

Even from where he stood, he could see the tears starting to well in her eyes and her voice start to crack as she stepped further back into the ship and despaired, “You don’t know what it’s like. Being his daughter, it’s–I have to leave. I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

Fiearius closed his eyes, grimacing with anger, and, admittedly, pity. He certainly knew what it was like to feel hopeless and desperate. But then again, he also knew what it was like to be hunted by angry, powerful men who wanted you dead. And that second one was quite a bit worse.

“I don’t need another trouble-making runaway,” he snapped, any hint of sympathy falling from his voice. “Get. Off. My. Ship. Now.”

Even from this distance, her eyes were visibly shining with tears. She certainly looked every bit her (too young) age when she gave one last shriek of “No!” suddenly turned and fled into the depths ship.

A blank, awed silence followed her disappearance, at least until Fiearius let out a raw growl of frustration and pressed the heel of his palms into his eye sockets. This was just not his fucking day, was it?

And just to make things worse, Leta piped in, “Nice. Wonderful. We’ve now kidnapped a young innocent girl. Well, maybe that’ll make you think better about trying to pick up girls eleven years younger than — “

At last, Fiearius felt his anger boil over, and he spun around. “What’s the matter, doctor?” he taunted. “You jealous?”

Leta’s mouth fell open. “What, jealous?” she sputtered. “Of what, exactly?”

Fiearius cocked his eyebrow and couldn’t resisting muttering, “Oh I think you know of what.”

Everyone else was suddenly exchanging glances and looking away. Oblivious to their discomfort, Leta gasped at him, completely affronted, “You’re a pig, you know that? You really are.”

“Aw don’t be so hard on yourself,” he chided, tilting his head and frowning at her in false pity. “Can’t help what ya like.”

He knew he’d done it now: Corra looked shocked, Leta was agape, looking ready to slap him in the face. Her voice shook. “You — are a such a piece of sh — “

But he never found out what he was, exactly, as another powerful voice roared from the other end of the docks.

“There they are!”

Everyone went rigid. Fiearius spun around just in time to see them —  a dozen Paravian officers sweeping in, yelling orders, guns raised, shouting, “Under the statutes of Paravian ground laws, you, the crew of the visiting ship Dionysian, are placed under arrest. Hands where we can see them please.”

While Leta grappled for a response, Corra was offended on her behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, flaring up.

Fiearius shrugged one shoulder, glancing toward the ceiling. “It just means that a little flirtation is harmless, that’s all.”

“Oh really?” Corra snapped back, planting her hands on her hips. “Think Ren would agree with that?”

“Corra — “ Leta muttered warningly, suddenly willing this conversation to end before it built up and exploded. Fiearius and Corra got into tiffs often, but never about her.

But neither of them listened. “Not if he never finds out,” said Fiearius bluntly, and Leta gaped at him.

“Yeah, let’s all take relationship advice from Mr. Non-commitment,” Corra said, her voice laced in sarcasm. “That’ll turn out well. What’s the longest you’ve even been with someone? Four hours? And then just find someone new to sleep with at the next dock?” She rolled her eyes and told Leta firmly, “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know anything.”

“One, what I do in my shore leave is none of your damn business. And two, it’s not like it matters,” Fiearius argued. “Getting a drink and having a chat isn’t fucking, it’s just getting a drink and having a chat. It’s innocent.”

“But it can lead to something that’s not innocent,” she pointed out.

Fiearius’ eyes narrowed. “Or it could not.” Just as Corra opened her mouth to argue back, he cut her off. “Not giving much credence to self-restraint, are you? It is possible to hold back primal urges, y’know.”

Leta glanced between them. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“No no, self-restraint’s possible,” Corra went on, ignoring her, “but even if you can hold back, the intention’s still there.”

Fiearius scoffed. “What intention? Just because you talk to someone means you wanna fuck ‘em?”

“No, but– “ Corra began confidently before she was interrupted.

“No, that’s right,” Fiearius snapped. “It doesn’t mean that. So why can’t she have a drink and have a chat without her boyfriend getting dragged into it, huh?”

Corra suddenly cocked her head to the side dangerously. “Why are you so intent on getting her to be unfaithful?”

“It’s not being unfaithful, that’s exactly my point.”

“Yeah? If you were engaged to her,” she gestured to Leta, “would you want her flirting with other men?”

Leta was certain she was blushing bright red by now, even more so when Fiearius said loudly, “If I was engaged to her, I sure as hell would be confident enough in that to not get all worked up over it.”

Corra crossed her arms, unconvinced. “But why the hell are you being so defensive about this anyway?”

“I’m not being defensive.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Clearly, you are — “

“Would you stop?” groaned Fiearius. Before Corra could speak again, he snapped, “Look, I don’t give a shit what she does or doesn’t do, okay? So stop.”

“Well obviously you do give a shit if–”

“Enough, already!” gasped Leta, finally bursting with anger and embarrassment.  “Just – quit talking about me like I’m not standing right here, would you?”Pointedly avoiding Fiearius’ eye, she muttered “I’m going to find Cyrus,” and pushed away from the bar.

Behind her, she could hear Corra yelling at him (“look, you upset her, ass!”), and while Leta did not want to admit it, their argument had taught her one thing: it was time to do something about Fiearius.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Lady problems?” posed Finn’s cheerful voice in Fiearius’ ear, elbowing him pointedly as he sidled up at the bar. Apparently, Finn had witnessed the last five minutes of Corra raging at him before finally, mercifully, she stormed off after Leta.

Fiearius only groaned in response and dropped his forehead on the bar.

“That bad huh?” said Finn, now sounding amused. “What the hell happened?”

“Fuck if I even know,” Fiearius muttered under his breath.

“Nice. Well, I just spent a half hour flirting with a married woman whose husband, she regrets to inform me, is a bounty hunter, so before I’m slaughtered, I think it’s time to play one last drinking game.” He waved over the bartender.

“Good plan,” Fiearius agreed, pulling himself up to attention. “I propose a game we’ll call ‘Tank the Tiki’. The rules are simple.” He lifted his ridiculous glass to his friend and smirked. “Whoever gets drunkest fastest wins.”

Finn seized his drink. “You’re on.”

It was, quite possibly, the tackiest bar Leta had ever seen. Actual dirty beach sand was strewn across the floor and neon lights flashed green and blue. It was a tiki bar, Corra had informed her excitedly, before pulling her inside. The scene was both horrifying and fascinating, and as she stood in the crowd of patrons, nursing a glass of water, Leta found herself observing more than participating in the party.

At her side, Corra was excitedly explaining the origins behind the carved wooden tiki head adorning a nearby wall. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d gone off on a history lesson and clearly Cyrus was used to it as he feigned interest perfectly. “So it’s from the Origin then?” he asked politely.

“Yeah, I read all about them in this book,” Corra told him, buying into his ruse. “There’s this legend about how the tiki man was the first man and from him came all others.”

Cyrus nodded slowly, hardly paying attention as he sipped his drink. After a moment, he asked, “That guy?” pointing at the angry face on the wall.

“Yeah, that guy,” Corra replied, a little irritated at his lack of commitment to this conversation.

He eyed the horrifying face glaring at him a moment longer before muttering, “His poor wife…”

Corra appeared ready to launch into the next phase of the lesson, but Cyrus beat her to the punch, turning to Leta and asking, “Why aren’t you drinking?” He raised his own drink, a fruity concoction held in an actual cut of pineapple with a tiny umbrella sticking out of the top. “They may look stupid, but they do taste good.”

It was a moment before Leta realized she was being addressed. With a start, she tore her eyes away from a bright neon mermaid sign. “Wh — actually, I’m not feeling well.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” said Corra bluntly.

Leta almost argued, but she snorted instead, admitting defeat. “Good point. I’ll get a drink.”

Sliding through the crowd of people, Leta moved to the bar counter and was surprised to find herself standing next to — of all people — Fiearius. They locked eyes in surprise and at once, a smirk arrived on his scruffy face.

“You know, if you wanna buy me a drink, kiddo, you don’t have to ask.”

“Nice to see you too, Fiear,” said Leta politely, although she grinned back before picking up the drink menu. The menu featured only obnoxious, sugary, brightly-colored cocktails, the kind Leta would never order on a regular day, but in this instance she leaned in and ordered the drink. But not for herself.

“Here ya go, sir,” said the bartender moments later, arriving with the most ridiculous drink Leta had ever seen. It was in a tiki head mug overflowing with pure sugar-water, complete with a mini umbrella and yellow straw sticking out of it. He did not hand it to Leta, but rather, to Fiearius. “From the lady, here.”

Leta barely stifled her giggles as Fiearius stared in disbelief at the drink, then arched an eyebrow at her knowingly. Then he reached for it — he had to use two hands — with no shame whatsoever.

“I’m flattered,” he cooed sweetly, tilting the straw toward his mouth expertly. “So,” he mused, a suggestive hint in his eyes. “You come here often?”

For a moment Leta simply eyed him. She couldn’t discern between his joking flirtatious advances or his real ones (did he have real ones?) these days. But rather than dismiss him as she knew she should have, she followed her first impulse: she reached to take the glass from his hand and sipped it. “Thank the gods, no. Can you believe that this is my first tiki bar experience?”

“That so? Well I daresay you’ve been missin’ out.” He reached for the mug again, taking it back from her and took a long drink, too long, as if he were stalling. When he finally brought his drink down back to the bar, he glanced over at her thoughtfully and then promptly looked away.

“So,” he began abruptly. “What’s new?”

Leta blinked. In all her time aboard, Fiearius had literally never asked her any form of niceties, and for one moment, her stomach turned over. Did he — ? No, he couldn’t possibly have known.

After a spell of silence in which Leta simply stared, he cleared his throat and changed the subject, glancing around the bar casually. “Suppose this place was Corra’s choice?”

Glad for the awkward moment to pass, Leta laughed. “Yes, how’d you know? She loves places like this. And Cyrus is over there pretending to like it, for her sake … “

“Is he still on that?” Fiearius groaned as he lifted his drink to his lips, but it stopped a few inches away and suddenly he pointed at her instead. “I’m blaming you, by the way. For encouraging him.”

Leta looked through the bar. Corra was still lecturing Cyrus on the decor, if the way she waved her hand around was any indication.

“I make no apologies,” said Leta, raising her voice with dignity. “He should be happy. Besides, I don’t see you setting him up with anybody.”

“Fair point. Let’s change that, shall we?” Suddenly, Fiearius spun around on his stool and scanned over the crowded bar. Then he unabashedly pointed to a nearby woman in a short grass skirt and coconut bra holding a tray of drinks. “How about her?”

“That’s a waitress,” said Leta composedly.

“Yeah, she’s a working girl. He’ll like that.” Admiring the woman a moment longer, he added, “He’ll like the skirt too…”

Leta wrinkled her nose. “He’d probably be allergic to it. What about her?” she added innocently, tilting her head toward a woman who was awkwardly climbing onto a table to dance.

Fiearius barked a laugh. “Ah yeah, now we’re onto something. How ‘bout the blonde in the corner who looks like she’s about the vomit?”

“She’s on the short list,” Leta confirmed at once. “And what about the guy holding her hair back?” She pointed. “He’s quite handsome. Is Cyrus interested in men at all?”

Looking suddenly thoughtful, Fiearius frowned. “Y’know, I’ve always wondered. I don’t think so … ” He shrugged carelessly and added, “If you think that guy’s so handsome, why not buy him a drink yourself?” He grinned suggestively. “Nothing more appealing to a guy than a girl handin’ ya a tiki head with a pink umbrella.”

“No thanks. I’d rather not.”

“Why not?” Fiearius asked, nudging her with his elbow. “No harm in it. Why not order another mug of tiki brains and go say hi?”

“Because she’s a married woman, that’s why not,” came a cheerful voice behind her suddenly. It was Corra, swinging her arms around Leta’s neck and beaming drunkenly at the pair.

Fiearius didn’t seem to appreciate the interruption. He rolled his eyes at her and turned back toward the bar. But that didn’t stop Leta from hearing what he suddenly muttered sharply under his breath.

“She ain’t married yet.”

Even Corra heard it. Leta felt her smile drop off of her face in surprise. No, she wasn’t married yet, and the nastiness in Fiearius’ voice made her suddenly feel very warm around the neck, like a spotlight had been forced over her head.

“What is it?” he asked slowly, trying to keep his voice gentle, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, honestly. “Is this — is this about the fight earlier?” he asked, scratching his hair nervously.  He asked himself quickly — what would Elsa, one of his ex-girlfriends, have done? She was always good at this shit. Unfortunately, she was unreachable, far away at the military base. And Leta was still in front of him, hastily brushing away tears with her wrist.

“Do you want me to go get someone?” Finn went on. “Cy … Corra … Fiear? Or — ”

At that, Leta made a noise of disbelief — it was either a hiccup or a laugh, he couldn’t tell. “Why the hell would you go get Fiearius?”

“Er, no idea,” Finn admitted, smirking uncertainly. “He’s even worse at this stuff than I am.”

The words hung in the air as Leta watched Finn for a moment, looking terribly worried, then moved her eyes away, hugging her arms tighter across her chest. Probably this was his cue to leave, but Finn found himself immobile as he tapped his fingers on the counter and went on, as if playing a game.

“Is this … about your fiance?” he guessed. “Or is iiit … uh … well y’know, I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

At that, Leta did laugh, heavy and breathless. “You can’t help even if I do tell you,” she muttered, and it was then he noticed Leta lean back on the counter and, subtly as she could, pick up the discarded piece of paper and turn it back over, shielding it from view.

Finn glanced at the paper a moment — well, whatever it was she couldn’t tell him, clearly that piece of paper knew.  He was just considering reaching for it when Leta spoke, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Have you known Fiearius for a long time then?” she wondered, steadying her shaky voice and rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

Finn blinked, then recovered his surprise — maybe she just wanted to talk.

“Yeah, awhile,” he said at last, leaning his hip against the counter and frowning in thought. “We met at a bar at a couple years ago, on some shitty backwater planet, right after I got kicked outta the military.”

“So you were in the military,” she muttered, passingly curious. “You’re from Carthis then?”

“Naw, I’m actually from Archeti,” he said, and he saw the mild surprise in her face. Most people who grew up on that gang-ridden planet never managed to leave. “Grew up there, went to the military academy to become a fighter pilot.”

“But you got kicked out?”

“Er, it’s a long story,” said Finn, grinning. “Anyway, so I met Fiearius at this dive. We were drunk and started yelling insults at one another ‘cause he — well you’ve seen him, he’s got all those tattoos. All of ‘em are symbols of the Society. And Carthians are no fans of the Society … what with all those territorial disputes and all. And I happened to be wearing a Carthian military jacket,” he recalled, starting to laugh. “Old habits, I guess. So tradition tells us we were supposed to beat the shit out of each other. But we bought one another a round instead. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

Leta’s lips twitched toward a half-smile. After a moment, Finn went on, choosing his words carefully, “And y’know, I know the guy pretty well. And clearly  … he cares. About you. I mean, he was a jackass earlier. But if something was really — wrong with you right now, he’d want to help — “

Was this the wrong thing to say? Leta’s eyes widened and her smile faded, her mouth forming a thin, hard line. After a moment she glanced to the floor and muttered, “I know,” in a voice that was neither happy nor distressed.

Finn wasn’t sure what else to do or say — but then, Leta’s forehead wrinkled again, and her eyes filled with fresh tears that began to pour silently down her face. And although he barely knew this woman, he found he couldn’t really handle the sight of her crying. And she was clearly important to Fiearius, one of his best friends; he had to do something …

Which was why Finn glanced to the side and sharply slid the piece of paper off the counter, bringing it quickly to his eyes as Leta looked up in alarm. Before she could snatch it away, he read through it hastily and felt his heart turn over in his chest.