No

She looks so much like her sister; so much it makes your stomach turn. You saw the Captain wear the same expression on a wild night’s morn. Her dress disordered and rumpled too – or your dead friend would wear no clothes at all. You’d stand in the door and watch her kick out her latest conquest, or not bother to hide her toys while she dressed herself.

Your dick is not yet hard, and you no longer allow yourself to look. The Captain would act oblivious but always took the time to show off her body while you pretended to look away. But you were professionals, and it never went beyond teasing. {if Connected: The One-Eyed Captain > 2} Not until she invited you to her cabin and teased you with her feet. {else}Even if sometimes one of you had to restrain the other. {endif}

You use gentle words and your most disarming smile. Maybe the Captain would forgive you. And her. Maybe she’d approve. But you are tired and nauseous, and you cannot stop thinking about her dead eyes encased in cold steel.

”You are right.” Her tone is serious, but the Younger Dustwell does not look too disappointed. ”What were we thinking? Fuck. I never thought I’d be mournin’ like that.” She gathers her belongings and dresses herself in a hurry, but stops at the door. ”See you around,” she says and is gone.