"I—" she started, then stopped, her voice barely above a whisper.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Pierre's head turned toward the sound, and he saw Raven leaning against the mainmast with one eyebrow arched and an expression of profound, almost pitying amusement on her face. She looked like a parent who'd walked in on two children playing dress-up and making a spectacular mess of the costume box.
"Bravo," Raven said, pushing off from the mast. "Truly spectacular. I've seen jesters with less natural timing."
She approached, her walk an unhurried saunter. A slow, knowing smirk played on her lips, and her blue eyes drank in their ridiculous, tangled predicament.
"Now, if you're quite finished with your... whatever that was," Raven continued, "perhaps we could focus on not sinking the ship?"
