Politely decline.

She looks a lot like her sister – so much so it gives you pause. Three amber eyes, bright with mischief, bore into you. You have seen her wear the same expression on a wild night’s morn. Her dress disordered and rumpled – or she 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 still hard, but you no longer allow yourself to look. There was a time when the One-Eyed Captain would scold you if she found you in the mornings, in the arms of some girls or – or in the act of making love. You used to ignore the hints in her voice, and you now ignore the need in their eyes.

You use gentle words and your most disarming smile.

”Fuck the Saints, First Officer, you are a fucking tease,” says the Younger Dustwell.

The One-Eyed Captain wheezes, a sound somewhere between laughter and reproach. She closes her eyes to gather strength. Only her fingertips are not bound in white, and she caresses air until you clasp her hand with yours.

”Sickening. But I get it, I suppose. So should I leave you alone, or...”

The One-Eyed Captain shakes her head and smiles at you. A wordless farewell.

And you, suddenly tired, squeeze her fingers one last time and make your goodbyes. The Younger sister only scoffs.