"You're mad, lass," Mary chuckles as she takes a long swig of her rum. Her voice is smooth and low, her usual playful smirk slanting her red stained lips.

It's late, the two of you were supposed to be patrolling the bays of Havana to ensure no Spanish guards would decide to invite themselves aboard your ships for an unwelcome surprise. But like usual, you'd both ended up sat on some forgotten part of the sand, sharing a bottle of rum and giggling into the night.