Salvation of Ignorance

Chapter 7: Not Ceased His Rampage

"Two months?"

"At the minimum." The First Lieutenant failed to ease Phoebe's discomposure.

Phoebe stepped aside to allow a sailor, with cargo, to pass by. Her arms instinctively wrapped around her torso during the passage, which she allowed continued residence--after its commencement--to aid the onset of nausea. Technically, early mornings often plagued her with sickness and an accompaniment of headaches. However, the sea breeze, screeching of seagulls, and recent sighting of Mr. Claremont--pardon, Lord Claremont--joining in the two-month-minimum voyage were of equal guilt.

Mr. Talwin had confirmed his voyaging on the same vessel as she (one of his best vessels, he informed her upon multiple occasions). She simply made the assumption that his friend would not join them on the excursion, given his only visiting her homeland for two days (excluding the additional week that passed since the incident that shall not be named). Yet, there the lord stood, instructing a crewman with his luggage. His back to the vessel's railing. A perfect position to cast his deviously-gorgeous face out to the fathoms below.

"If it's any consolation," The First Lieutenant started again, "my employer has arranged a special room for your travel."

Phoebe thanked him and followed, as he was gentlemanly enough to direct her personally to the room. Speaking of gentlemanliness, in order to reach the stairs that lead to the sleeping quarters, she had to pass by its antonym.

It was just her fortune that he should pay attention to the persons composing the party that crossed his path. Phoebe made the mistake of inspecting his general direction to find herself his favorite subject amongst the possible candidates. He stiffened and her frown became perpetual.

Then he bowed glacially.

There were two options that Phoebe could contrive in the time allotted her: she could snub his gesture or reluctantly return it.

As tempting as it was to justly smite him, Phoebe was cursed with an over-active conscious that told her that her reluctance was an easier battle to conquer. She foolishly succumbed to sloth, which rewarded her with an inevitable escape from her conscious as her curtsy in mid-walk induced a stumble. The voice of her conscious furthered in prowess when such stumble was ceased by the back of the first lieutenant and she was now dependent upon her daily practice of apologies to convince him that she had not intentionally (sexually) assaulted him.

To keep the voice at bay, she mentally repeated her declaration of hatred for Lord Claremont.

"I hope the arrangements are to your liking," Mr. Talwin mused during the walk about her first return to the deck since her second exhibition of grace.

"Quite lovely, thank you for the arrangements," Phoebe choose rather than to admit the lack of spaciousness and distasteful bunkmates. Both of which helped to convince her to take advantage of Mr. Talwin's offer to enjoy the mostly empty deck as it had taken a week for her to comprehend its rarity.

"I know it's not quite the roominess you're accustom to," Mr. Talwin started again.

Phoebe knew the excuse he was about to produce as it was the same Homer used to hamper her departure.

"Those vessels are not built for comfort, you know. You will be sleeping in the bare necessities."

"But I personally visited a seamstress, before departure, for new linens," Mr. Talwin added to his rendition to Homer's quote.

"Thank you, but you didn't need to trouble yourself." Though she was grateful he did so regardless.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all, I assure you. Not that I mind enduring troubles for you. Simply that it was no trouble to trouble myself on your behalf."