Cirrus simply smiled, dipping his head in acknowledgment. The same white-blonde tendril fell back into his face, right where it had been.
As she climbed the stairs, she considered fixing it again.
But she didn’t.
* * *
The rich, brassy exhale of Gus’accordion filled the night air, the notes dancing over the main deck like embers on the wind. Vivienne had to admit—for a man who looked like he could break someone in half with one hand, the accordion suited him perfectly. Something about the twinkle in his eye, the flourish of his twirled mustache, and the way his massive fingers handled the instrument made the entire scene feel whimsical.
A roar of cheers erupted.
Vivienne turned, catching sight of Captain Garrett striding through the crew, grinning as he waved. Behind him, a more reserved but equally commanding presence followed. Commander Thorne.
The energy on deck shifted, sailors straightening as the captain approached, his demeanor as steadying as the ship’s keel.
"How are the finest sailors, on the finest vessel ever to set sail, doing tonight?" Captain Garrett called, opening his arms wide.
A resounding cheer shook the deck in response.
Vivienne watched as the captain clasped hands, clapped shoulders, and asked questions as though he knew each sailor personally. Thorne, on the other hand, remained just a step behind, nodding in acknowledgment but speaking little.
She found herself watching the commander longer than intended. There was something impressive about the way he moved through the crew, offering a curt nod or a sharp look, always recognizing them by name.
Gus’ voice boomed above the din, "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, captain?"
The captain planted his feet, sliding his thumbs through his belt loops, surveying the gathered crew with a knowing smile. A slow hush fell over the deck.
"My dear crew," he began, pausing for effect, "I had the burning need…" he exhaled dramatically "…to tell a story."
The resulting cheers doubled in volume.
Vivienne flinched at the sheer force of it, glancing around as sailors eagerly dropped onto the wooden planks, forming rows like school children at story hour.
Florence elbowed her way through the crowd, cursing in at least three languages. "Sit down, you brutes! The captain can't start until everyone is seated!"
Vivienne shook her head, bemused. She’d seen kids at the library show this much excitement for storytime, but a group of scarred, tattooed, sea-weathered sailors? That was new.
Captain Garrett balanced himself on a barrel, his sea-green eyes glinting as he surveyed his audience. Thorne leaned against the railing, arms crossed, one foot resting against the planks.
Is this what he looks like when he’s relaxed?
Before she could dwell on it, a familiar figure sidled up next to her.
"I’m done being mad at you now," Lewis muttered, his gaze fixed on the deck as he slipped his hands into his pockets.
Vivienne sighed, relief flooding through her. "Good, because I’m done with you ignoring me."
Lewis brightened. "Oh! Guess what!" He dropped his voice to a gleeful whisper. "Cirrus had to do our dishes shift tonight—he pissed off the commander."
Vivienne’s brow arched. "Oh, really?"
Lewis nodded, eyes sparkling. "I went down to the galley, and Cirrus was already washing."
As if summoned, a familiar shock of wavy white-blonde hair emerged from the staircase. Cirrus caught her eye, gave a small wave, and flashed an innocent smile.
Vivienne pressed her lips together in suspicion.What are you up to, Cirrus?
The captain cleared his throat, and the crew instantly quieted. The last traces of daylight spilled over the water, casting a golden glow deepening the anticipation in the air.
