You’d been captured by Gomez. Again. No surprises there.

The truth is that he had taken a liking to you — and likewise on your end — so him arresting you was nothing new, nor was it anything bad. In fact, you looked forward to it. You’d be fed good Spanish food and you’d get a comfortable bed. Gomez solely did this to keep up appearances among his crew and to the King, and you knew this. You couldn’t blame him.

Tonight, you’re on the deck of his galleon. It’s empty, save for you sitting by the railing, forehead against the wooden railing as you look up at the night sky. It’s a beautiful night over the Pacific ocean, and it isn’t long before you hear the characteristic sound of his boots hitting the floor as he walks.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, his voice smooth from the wine he’s been drinking.