Log: Dinner and dancing, or not.
IC: Day 26, month 6, turn 22 of Interval 10.
RL: 2010.04.15
Bailey decides that giving in and getting the skipper out of her system will be the cure for her conscience. It doesn't turn out quite as well as planned ;)
Even'Star(#777eh)
Designed with only needing one or two members to crew it, the Even'Star is a modest little vessel of just 55feet long and capable of flying up to five sails at once. Fore-and-aft rigging projects from a single mast that bears a topmast. Currently just one headsail is flying and is strangely festooned with bright fabric flowers, one can only guess at the reasoning for such an outlandish display on an otherwise simply decked out sloop. The chipped and faded black with white trim speaks to this once having been a pretty little vessel and yet while hull and stern are nowhere near their potential glory, the decking is kept meticulously scrubbed and cared for. A singe hatch leads down into cramped private quarters that have been divided into living and make-shift cargo hold, thus petitioning the need for hammocks rather than squander space to the luxury of a bunk.
Sometime during the day, a delivery has been made to the Orchid Rain; a potted mint plant, with a card attached. Which reads :
Tonight, my place after sunset. Bring wine.
Sin.
Whether or not the brunette had had the gall to board the merchant vessel yet again, is unknown. Rumour may have it that a young lad was sent to make the delivery.
Despite the warnings from the men on his ship, Candlario pushes all concerns away with a 'What could she do' and goes off to see what trouble Bailey might be cooking up aboard her ship. The mint-gift must have done the trick. He's even dressed up, giving up the travel-worn and faded rags he's usually seen in and has on a fine tunic and coat and a shinny pair of boots that extend up to his knees. Under his arm he carries the cloth wrapped bottle and comes aboard without so much as a 'by your leave'--he was invited after all.
And cooking up, is just exactly what Bailey’s been up to, the aromas of a simple meal, floating out on the evening air. Once again, the small fold-out table and the two canvas chairs she owns have been set out on the aft deck. There’s even glowbaskets strung about the place. In fact, one might even call it romantic. Rio’s not the only one that’s dressed for the occasion, the brunette to be found wearing a rather spicy little black number, possibly on loan as it does appear to be a tad too big for her. Shame, at least she tried. The skipper of the Orchid Rain is given an appraising raking over of eyes, “You came.” Clearly she didn’t take his presence for granted.
Candlario smiles when he sees Bailey, doing a fair job in hiding his reaction to her unexpected dress. "Bailey." He bows towards her before crossing over to her, his smile widening, "You steal the breath from me woman. I'm glad I decided against wearing the usual." The wine bottle is presented with a flourish. The label is Benden and it's faded with age under the careful wrap keeping the red safe. "I hope that red will go with the meal."
The smile that Candlario gets rewarded with carries an odd edge of unexpected shyness from the brunette, “Flattery sailor,” stepping in closer so that he may become aware of vanilla scented hair, “gets you everywhere.” All kinds of promise stitched into her tone. Her smile deepens into a grin, losing any earlier signs of complete girlishness, “Clean up pretty good, yourself.” She likie! Moving toward the impromptu dining area a glance is thrown back to him, “Red goes with anything.” Like she’d really know. Once she’s sure her guest knows where it is he’s supposed to position himself, she disappears down into the little cabin.
It's Rio's turn to be caught off balanced first the shyness and then the warmth of her flirtiness. He draws in his breath as she comes in closer to get the bottle, though aside from enjoying the smell of that hair, there's no gleam of mistrust in his eyes. "I had to take an extra long bath." He assures her, and sure enough there's a fresh, spicy scent to him, a mingling different herbals, like cardimon and sandalwood. "You've really pulled out all the stops. I feel bad for being so harsh with you the other day on the beach. Almost." Settling into the seat he watches after her, a small crease settling on his brow when she slips into the cabin.
Bailey appears a short while later, two plates heaped with what appears to be a herdbeast casserole and two glasses tucked under an arm. Setting the items down, plate and glass at each seating, each is carefully turned in such a way that the small chip in one glass and the crack in a plate will hopefully not be too obvious. Small statements to the fact that she most likely really doesn’t have very much to her name. Leaning over his shoulder unnecessarily to ensure his plate and glass are ‘just so’ a wash of dark hair spills forward as she takes the opportunity to inhale deeply of his scent, “Bottle that and you’ll be selling it all the men on the island.” Whatever spices and herbs he uses himself. Straightening she plucks the bottle up from the table and hands it back to him to do the honors, a bemused expression forming, “Why were you?” So harsh with her.
Candlario doesn't notice the state of the dishes, he's a guy. He's paying more attention to Bailey, and the food but particularly Bailey in that dress. His eyes hood slightly, his smile turning almost boyish in that moment when she leans over him. "Shards woman." Not scolding, a lower, rumbly sound in his chest as he turns his head to look at her now that she's so close. The movement is slow though, as though he's afraid to scare her off. "I don't usually mix my own ... product to sell. Better for sales." Taking the bottle of wine he works on the cork with a small blade pulled from a pocket. "I don't know. Listening to rumors is all."
There was a soft touch of fingers to Rio’s neck before the brunette moved away, a low chuckle forming for his reaction, “Hungry?” A question that could mean -so- many things! But there’s distance between them now as she pushes his plate closer to him, “Dig in,” the words coming in sultry command, “big boy like you, needs to eat properly.” Yes, because he totally looks like he’s fading away before her very eyes. Sliding into her own seating opposite to his and leaning forward on her elbows, cupping her chin in her hands and presenting a most enticing view of all things curved and soft where the low neck of her dress cuts away in front. Shrugging prettily, “Sales are only as good as the one who limits their potential.” So not just a pretty face after all. At the big man’s last she leans back crossing one leg slowly over another, the earlier view, gone. A glance out to the darkened sea and then offering quietly in response, “There are always two sides to every story.” This to rumours.
Candlario moistens his lips at the touch to his cheek, not move away from it but her touch departs before he gets too into the warmth of her fingers against his skin. Shifting in his chair the big man gives her an amused look, and fills the glasses with the wine as she sits down. "I'm starving." Though the way he's looking at her, she should be on the menu instead of the plate of food before him. "I'll think about expanding my products when the Orchid goes for more goods." He notes as he takes a bite of the food. An eyebrow arched for the 'two sides' comment but doesn't speak around the food, perhaps the look alone will encourage her to say more.
If the smirk sent to the size of his appetite is anything to by, it’s quite likely that desert is going to something not soon forgotten. Candlario eats, and she watches, appearing to draw pleasure from his enjoyment of the food she’d just spent a good portion of time and resources, to make possible. Bailey’s food goes untouched, the glass, once filled, is drawn closer. Pale eyes show a shadow of disappointment before they’re narrowing lightly in response. Putting the question to her dinner guest nonchalantly, “Whey do you sail?” If the woman understands the meaning in that lift of brow, she’s not taking the bait and leaves the topic alone. A swallow of wine with the tip of her tongue catching up a stray droplet or two on her lower lip and then, “You didn’t happen to bring your flute with you, did you?”
That Bailey isn't touching her own food, does not go unnoticed. Not commented upon after the first couple bites from his own plate, but by the time he's set the fork down and is reaching for the glass, it is clear that he's puzzling over the fact that he is enjoying a meal and she is enjoying looking at him. There's a flash of embarassment as a napkin passes over his mouth. "Ah, I'm not sure when. Still working out some details. Things in the air have not all settled down to rest." He doesn't drink the wine, just swirls it around in his glass and when she asks about his flute, his gaze flicks towards his ship in the darkness and back to her, "I don't have it on me. I didn't think to bring it. I'm...not much of a song-player to be honest."
A small frown appears when Candlario sets his fork down. Initially she makes no comment on it but instead rises from her seat taking the wine glass with her. Where is she off to now? Nowhere, just yet. Another healthy swallow of wine, as if she were trying for Dutch courage and slow hip-swaying steps carry her back over to the skipper where yet again she bends and leans in close. Putting her mouth close to his ear, warm breath trickling out, "If you don't eat all your dinner," tone once again low and sultry with promise, "you can't have desert." She'll stay for a heartbeat or two to gauge his response and then find her way to the railing where she leans the small of her back against it, elbows propped up behind her. "Pity, I was in the mood to dance."
There's just something not quite right about a cook not eating their own meal. It sets a wary edge to Rio's smile now and he looks at the plate of food, picking up the fork and giving a little peel back of a couple layers of the dish--covert like. "It hardly seems right to eat while you're not even going to -join- me." Turning towards her as she comes in all close and warm and so touchable. He's a good boy though, no reaching and grabbing. "in the mood to dance hhmm? We don't need any music for that. Or did you want to do a dance for me, while I play?" A light chuckle now, spinning the empty fork between his fingers like it's a flute. "I could go get it."
His actions might be covert, but those sharp eyes of Bailey’s miss very little. The smirk heard in her tone as it comes from her position at the railing, behind Candlario, “I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The fib that comes as explanation is glib, “I tend to taste while I’m cooking and before I know it, I’m full by the time the meal is ready.” The short laugh likely betraying the fact that its nerves at play rather than some nefarious doing. “You want to dance with me?” the question getting turned around on him. But…she’s staying exactly where she is, the next move his, a dance of another nature at play.
The poison-supplier being poisoned. Great. Rio looks away from her and he's not looking at her for a very long moment. Perhaps it's just enough, her nerves, the lack of eating, mounted right atop the grim-faced sailor on his ship whispering about his un-proveable-accusations. His chair scrapes back, slowly, his legs stretching out before him before he gets to his feet. He turns back to her, his smile warmer than before and he crosses over to her at the railing. "Sure. I think I'd like to dance." Only the dangerous tone of his voice giving him away. Just how much of that poison did he eat? His eyebrows pinch together as his mind races. Maybe she was being honest and just shy? Doesn't help that he's not talking, just letting emotions chase each other across the fake smile pinned in place.
As Rio gets to his feet, Bailey stretches against the railing, like some kind of feline, smug for what she assumes comes next. What she doesn’t expect, is that tone of voice that doesn’t quite match with the smile coming off of the man. Another hasty swallow of wine, emptying the contents down her throat and wariness sets in as silence stretches out. Why was he just standing there smiling at her like some kind of moron? A quick toss of hair and the brunette makes one last attempt at taking the initiative. Steps carry her to the table where she sets the glass down on it and then she’s turning and moving right into his personal space all seductive smiles and wandering hands that will try to reach for the neckline of his shirt unless of course he moves away. “Then let’s dance, skipper.”
There's another sort of feline at play here, the hunting kind with the teeth and claws needed to take down wild prey. Candlario's hands flex, not quite making fists and his eyes follow her, a sort of hungry, eager waiting in his stance as though he might pounce her when she's at the table. Ah, but he doesn't have to, she comes right to him, all kitten-like and so soft as his arm loops around her. There's a tremble to him, it might be excitement, or arrousal, or an anger so strong that he has to fight his urges and will his strong arms to hold her as carefully as a flutterby. His head leans in and he moves into a dance step, his voice honey sweet against her ear, "Why are you doing this?"
Strong arms around Bailey will have her leaning the entire length of her body in against his, all soft and compliant-like. Except that is for that fine line of tension stringing through her, the flight or fight instinct on high alert. Candlario leans his head in closer and the brunette takes full advantage, her mouth seeking his out eagerly. That is until he questions her motives. Pulling her head back again a long, -long- look flows upward, blue eyes seeking his out, trying to read what is proving more and more, to be the unreadable. Finally, reluctantly, she pulls out of his embrace, shaking her head slowly from side to side as arms lift and fall in helpless gesture, before answering, “If you have to ask, then I honestly, don’t know.” And quick as that, the moment is ruined. At least for her.
Candlario's breath is warm agaisnt Bailey's jaw, his lips just brushing there and when she turns her face to him, she can surely feel his heart hammering. That is, until she's moving out of his reach. He does try to hold onto her then. A sudden, hard grip to her arm and his eyes flash as he tugs her back to him. His lips tighten over his teeth and he starts to say something but remembers himself, the grip he has on her loosens instantly and he takes a step back, ashamed. "I...I should go." A look shoots to the plate of food she made him and back to her, a hand going to his stomach. "Thanks. For the 'dinner'."
There’s a moment, a very brief, very intense one when Candlario’s fingers dig into her arm, which has Bailey catching her breath, almost changing her mind and melting back into him again. The evidence thereof in the flash of hunger in her eyes. There and gone again. Having moved to standing near the table of what could have been a good evening of dining and dessert, she simply nods when he thanks her for the meal and makes his excuses to be leaving. Her face turning away from him, is a picture of miserable failure and high frustration. She won’t watch him go. She won’t even clear up the dishes and glasses. She’ll simply…disappear downstairs to her cabin for the rest of the evening.
RL: 2010.04.15
Bailey decides that giving in and getting the skipper out of her system will be the cure for her conscience. It doesn't turn out quite as well as planned ;)
Even'Star(#777eh)
Designed with only needing one or two members to crew it, the Even'Star is a modest little vessel of just 55feet long and capable of flying up to five sails at once. Fore-and-aft rigging projects from a single mast that bears a topmast. Currently just one headsail is flying and is strangely festooned with bright fabric flowers, one can only guess at the reasoning for such an outlandish display on an otherwise simply decked out sloop. The chipped and faded black with white trim speaks to this once having been a pretty little vessel and yet while hull and stern are nowhere near their potential glory, the decking is kept meticulously scrubbed and cared for. A singe hatch leads down into cramped private quarters that have been divided into living and make-shift cargo hold, thus petitioning the need for hammocks rather than squander space to the luxury of a bunk.
Sometime during the day, a delivery has been made to the Orchid Rain; a potted mint plant, with a card attached. Which reads :
Tonight, my place after sunset. Bring wine.
Sin.
Whether or not the brunette had had the gall to board the merchant vessel yet again, is unknown. Rumour may have it that a young lad was sent to make the delivery.
Despite the warnings from the men on his ship, Candlario pushes all concerns away with a 'What could she do' and goes off to see what trouble Bailey might be cooking up aboard her ship. The mint-gift must have done the trick. He's even dressed up, giving up the travel-worn and faded rags he's usually seen in and has on a fine tunic and coat and a shinny pair of boots that extend up to his knees. Under his arm he carries the cloth wrapped bottle and comes aboard without so much as a 'by your leave'--he was invited after all.
And cooking up, is just exactly what Bailey’s been up to, the aromas of a simple meal, floating out on the evening air. Once again, the small fold-out table and the two canvas chairs she owns have been set out on the aft deck. There’s even glowbaskets strung about the place. In fact, one might even call it romantic. Rio’s not the only one that’s dressed for the occasion, the brunette to be found wearing a rather spicy little black number, possibly on loan as it does appear to be a tad too big for her. Shame, at least she tried. The skipper of the Orchid Rain is given an appraising raking over of eyes, “You came.” Clearly she didn’t take his presence for granted.
Candlario smiles when he sees Bailey, doing a fair job in hiding his reaction to her unexpected dress. "Bailey." He bows towards her before crossing over to her, his smile widening, "You steal the breath from me woman. I'm glad I decided against wearing the usual." The wine bottle is presented with a flourish. The label is Benden and it's faded with age under the careful wrap keeping the red safe. "I hope that red will go with the meal."
The smile that Candlario gets rewarded with carries an odd edge of unexpected shyness from the brunette, “Flattery sailor,” stepping in closer so that he may become aware of vanilla scented hair, “gets you everywhere.” All kinds of promise stitched into her tone. Her smile deepens into a grin, losing any earlier signs of complete girlishness, “Clean up pretty good, yourself.” She likie! Moving toward the impromptu dining area a glance is thrown back to him, “Red goes with anything.” Like she’d really know. Once she’s sure her guest knows where it is he’s supposed to position himself, she disappears down into the little cabin.
It's Rio's turn to be caught off balanced first the shyness and then the warmth of her flirtiness. He draws in his breath as she comes in closer to get the bottle, though aside from enjoying the smell of that hair, there's no gleam of mistrust in his eyes. "I had to take an extra long bath." He assures her, and sure enough there's a fresh, spicy scent to him, a mingling different herbals, like cardimon and sandalwood. "You've really pulled out all the stops. I feel bad for being so harsh with you the other day on the beach. Almost." Settling into the seat he watches after her, a small crease settling on his brow when she slips into the cabin.
Bailey appears a short while later, two plates heaped with what appears to be a herdbeast casserole and two glasses tucked under an arm. Setting the items down, plate and glass at each seating, each is carefully turned in such a way that the small chip in one glass and the crack in a plate will hopefully not be too obvious. Small statements to the fact that she most likely really doesn’t have very much to her name. Leaning over his shoulder unnecessarily to ensure his plate and glass are ‘just so’ a wash of dark hair spills forward as she takes the opportunity to inhale deeply of his scent, “Bottle that and you’ll be selling it all the men on the island.” Whatever spices and herbs he uses himself. Straightening she plucks the bottle up from the table and hands it back to him to do the honors, a bemused expression forming, “Why were you?” So harsh with her.
Candlario doesn't notice the state of the dishes, he's a guy. He's paying more attention to Bailey, and the food but particularly Bailey in that dress. His eyes hood slightly, his smile turning almost boyish in that moment when she leans over him. "Shards woman." Not scolding, a lower, rumbly sound in his chest as he turns his head to look at her now that she's so close. The movement is slow though, as though he's afraid to scare her off. "I don't usually mix my own ... product to sell. Better for sales." Taking the bottle of wine he works on the cork with a small blade pulled from a pocket. "I don't know. Listening to rumors is all."
There was a soft touch of fingers to Rio’s neck before the brunette moved away, a low chuckle forming for his reaction, “Hungry?” A question that could mean -so- many things! But there’s distance between them now as she pushes his plate closer to him, “Dig in,” the words coming in sultry command, “big boy like you, needs to eat properly.” Yes, because he totally looks like he’s fading away before her very eyes. Sliding into her own seating opposite to his and leaning forward on her elbows, cupping her chin in her hands and presenting a most enticing view of all things curved and soft where the low neck of her dress cuts away in front. Shrugging prettily, “Sales are only as good as the one who limits their potential.” So not just a pretty face after all. At the big man’s last she leans back crossing one leg slowly over another, the earlier view, gone. A glance out to the darkened sea and then offering quietly in response, “There are always two sides to every story.” This to rumours.
Candlario moistens his lips at the touch to his cheek, not move away from it but her touch departs before he gets too into the warmth of her fingers against his skin. Shifting in his chair the big man gives her an amused look, and fills the glasses with the wine as she sits down. "I'm starving." Though the way he's looking at her, she should be on the menu instead of the plate of food before him. "I'll think about expanding my products when the Orchid goes for more goods." He notes as he takes a bite of the food. An eyebrow arched for the 'two sides' comment but doesn't speak around the food, perhaps the look alone will encourage her to say more.
If the smirk sent to the size of his appetite is anything to by, it’s quite likely that desert is going to something not soon forgotten. Candlario eats, and she watches, appearing to draw pleasure from his enjoyment of the food she’d just spent a good portion of time and resources, to make possible. Bailey’s food goes untouched, the glass, once filled, is drawn closer. Pale eyes show a shadow of disappointment before they’re narrowing lightly in response. Putting the question to her dinner guest nonchalantly, “Whey do you sail?” If the woman understands the meaning in that lift of brow, she’s not taking the bait and leaves the topic alone. A swallow of wine with the tip of her tongue catching up a stray droplet or two on her lower lip and then, “You didn’t happen to bring your flute with you, did you?”
That Bailey isn't touching her own food, does not go unnoticed. Not commented upon after the first couple bites from his own plate, but by the time he's set the fork down and is reaching for the glass, it is clear that he's puzzling over the fact that he is enjoying a meal and she is enjoying looking at him. There's a flash of embarassment as a napkin passes over his mouth. "Ah, I'm not sure when. Still working out some details. Things in the air have not all settled down to rest." He doesn't drink the wine, just swirls it around in his glass and when she asks about his flute, his gaze flicks towards his ship in the darkness and back to her, "I don't have it on me. I didn't think to bring it. I'm...not much of a song-player to be honest."
A small frown appears when Candlario sets his fork down. Initially she makes no comment on it but instead rises from her seat taking the wine glass with her. Where is she off to now? Nowhere, just yet. Another healthy swallow of wine, as if she were trying for Dutch courage and slow hip-swaying steps carry her back over to the skipper where yet again she bends and leans in close. Putting her mouth close to his ear, warm breath trickling out, "If you don't eat all your dinner," tone once again low and sultry with promise, "you can't have desert." She'll stay for a heartbeat or two to gauge his response and then find her way to the railing where she leans the small of her back against it, elbows propped up behind her. "Pity, I was in the mood to dance."
There's just something not quite right about a cook not eating their own meal. It sets a wary edge to Rio's smile now and he looks at the plate of food, picking up the fork and giving a little peel back of a couple layers of the dish--covert like. "It hardly seems right to eat while you're not even going to -join- me." Turning towards her as she comes in all close and warm and so touchable. He's a good boy though, no reaching and grabbing. "in the mood to dance hhmm? We don't need any music for that. Or did you want to do a dance for me, while I play?" A light chuckle now, spinning the empty fork between his fingers like it's a flute. "I could go get it."
His actions might be covert, but those sharp eyes of Bailey’s miss very little. The smirk heard in her tone as it comes from her position at the railing, behind Candlario, “I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The fib that comes as explanation is glib, “I tend to taste while I’m cooking and before I know it, I’m full by the time the meal is ready.” The short laugh likely betraying the fact that its nerves at play rather than some nefarious doing. “You want to dance with me?” the question getting turned around on him. But…she’s staying exactly where she is, the next move his, a dance of another nature at play.
The poison-supplier being poisoned. Great. Rio looks away from her and he's not looking at her for a very long moment. Perhaps it's just enough, her nerves, the lack of eating, mounted right atop the grim-faced sailor on his ship whispering about his un-proveable-accusations. His chair scrapes back, slowly, his legs stretching out before him before he gets to his feet. He turns back to her, his smile warmer than before and he crosses over to her at the railing. "Sure. I think I'd like to dance." Only the dangerous tone of his voice giving him away. Just how much of that poison did he eat? His eyebrows pinch together as his mind races. Maybe she was being honest and just shy? Doesn't help that he's not talking, just letting emotions chase each other across the fake smile pinned in place.
As Rio gets to his feet, Bailey stretches against the railing, like some kind of feline, smug for what she assumes comes next. What she doesn’t expect, is that tone of voice that doesn’t quite match with the smile coming off of the man. Another hasty swallow of wine, emptying the contents down her throat and wariness sets in as silence stretches out. Why was he just standing there smiling at her like some kind of moron? A quick toss of hair and the brunette makes one last attempt at taking the initiative. Steps carry her to the table where she sets the glass down on it and then she’s turning and moving right into his personal space all seductive smiles and wandering hands that will try to reach for the neckline of his shirt unless of course he moves away. “Then let’s dance, skipper.”
There's another sort of feline at play here, the hunting kind with the teeth and claws needed to take down wild prey. Candlario's hands flex, not quite making fists and his eyes follow her, a sort of hungry, eager waiting in his stance as though he might pounce her when she's at the table. Ah, but he doesn't have to, she comes right to him, all kitten-like and so soft as his arm loops around her. There's a tremble to him, it might be excitement, or arrousal, or an anger so strong that he has to fight his urges and will his strong arms to hold her as carefully as a flutterby. His head leans in and he moves into a dance step, his voice honey sweet against her ear, "Why are you doing this?"
Strong arms around Bailey will have her leaning the entire length of her body in against his, all soft and compliant-like. Except that is for that fine line of tension stringing through her, the flight or fight instinct on high alert. Candlario leans his head in closer and the brunette takes full advantage, her mouth seeking his out eagerly. That is until he questions her motives. Pulling her head back again a long, -long- look flows upward, blue eyes seeking his out, trying to read what is proving more and more, to be the unreadable. Finally, reluctantly, she pulls out of his embrace, shaking her head slowly from side to side as arms lift and fall in helpless gesture, before answering, “If you have to ask, then I honestly, don’t know.” And quick as that, the moment is ruined. At least for her.
Candlario's breath is warm agaisnt Bailey's jaw, his lips just brushing there and when she turns her face to him, she can surely feel his heart hammering. That is, until she's moving out of his reach. He does try to hold onto her then. A sudden, hard grip to her arm and his eyes flash as he tugs her back to him. His lips tighten over his teeth and he starts to say something but remembers himself, the grip he has on her loosens instantly and he takes a step back, ashamed. "I...I should go." A look shoots to the plate of food she made him and back to her, a hand going to his stomach. "Thanks. For the 'dinner'."
There’s a moment, a very brief, very intense one when Candlario’s fingers dig into her arm, which has Bailey catching her breath, almost changing her mind and melting back into him again. The evidence thereof in the flash of hunger in her eyes. There and gone again. Having moved to standing near the table of what could have been a good evening of dining and dessert, she simply nods when he thanks her for the meal and makes his excuses to be leaving. Her face turning away from him, is a picture of miserable failure and high frustration. She won’t watch him go. She won’t even clear up the dishes and glasses. She’ll simply…disappear downstairs to her cabin for the rest of the evening.