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They need to move her, Vane told Idelle, eyes narrowed and fierce. He looked haunted by something, as though some idle ghost had finally realized who its killer was and decided to come relinquish their time in talking to Charles Vane. Idelle didn't comment on it, she’s far too busy being giddy providing the newest information to the Madame of the brothel, her oldest friend.
Idelle rehearsed what Vane told her to tell Max, her smile still on her face when she’s in front of Max right now. Max listened with the corner of her lips curling down into a frown, her eyes however, betrayed nothing and Idelle knew then that Max was trying her hardest to remain impassive.
Max told her to leave once she was done, her nose wrinkled with something that isn’t quite disgust, but most definitely isn’t pleasure either.
Idelle had said that Max had been her oldest friend, but in all honesty? Prostitutes never did have friends, only opportunities. If she wanted to get where Max was she would need to play the game too, and frankly she could if she wanted to. Let a few words slip past her lips, smile at the right captain…
But Max was different now. She cared just as much, but after that whole thing with Guthrie and now with the pirate with hair as red as fire? Idelle wouldn't. She just wouldn't.
The room is nearly pitch black when Max walks into her room and she wonders vaguely why Idelle hasn’t lit the place like she had been asked. But then she stops wondering, because the answer is the dirty, ragged girl perched at the end of her bed, hair covering her face.
Max paused at the entrance of her room, her breathing suddenly feeling short. When Idelle had said that the girl stuck in Vane’s fort was to be moved, she had no real clue that the idea was for her to be moved in with Max.
She could always send her into a spare room, but that meant risk. Who knew what kind of person could wander in, unannounced and more than likely, stinking drunk? No, Max wouldn’t allow it.
The girl must have heard her shut the door behind her because when Max was done she heard a gasp from behind her. She turned, hands tucked behind her back (fingers intertwined) to show she meant no harm, and her dark eyes observed the pale face under dirt for a moment more.
Max only needed a moment - it felt like she knew everything about the girl just from one look at her, and in reality? She too remembered the time when she had been on a ship too, smuggled away in some hold that smelled of urine and vomit, clutching her mother’s hands and praying. Her mother had held her so tight, had whispered into her hair and prayed and prayed for God to come rescue them both from this, from this cruel world.
God hadn’t listened. God had delivered them to Nassau and had laughed whilst it had happened.
Had he laughed when this young girl had been delivered to Nassau too? Could God truly be that cruel?
The girl’s eyes were still on her when she took another step forward into the room, and Max tilted her head when she saw the girl look at the rings on her fingers with clear interest.
"My father, he-" and then, as if the girl had realized she had just spoken, she quickly silenced herself and went back to looking at the pale, scratched feet hanging off the edge of the bed.
Max brought the rings that had caught the girl’s eye up to her face, holding back a sigh when she realized why the girl had recognized it. It was an old ring, one that Max hadn’t even thought about properly for quite a while but was glad that the girl had pointed it out. The ring was of worn iron, but carved into it were words of commendation, gifted to the now infamous Richard Guthrie, for his 'work' in Nassau.
Eleanor had given it to her when they had been younger and more free (in Eleanor’s case anyway, Max thought snidely), laughing that only those who did great deeds deserved to wear it.
Max had no idea why Eleanor had given it to her, but back then it had felt like something more.
"You’re father…" Max didn’t allow herself to think anymore of the thought, she let the thought leave her head as though it was a mere breeze that brushed her face. It was whimsical, easy to forget. "An Englishman, no? Governor of the Carolina? No wonder ‘e ‘as ‘idden you ‘ere."
The pale girl’s eyes widened, her lower lip trembling to the point her mouth opened without her realizing.
Max smiled at the shock. “Max knows ‘er way around. Knows people’s secrets before they even open their mouths.”
The girl didn’t speak, but Max couldn’t hide the amused smile on her face at the obvious temptation that made the girl’s lips twitch with the desire to do so.
"You can speak. I don’t bite."
"You’re a woman-" the girl blurted out, blushing fiercely (Max hid her surprise well, it seemed that innocence really was good for something) before she shook her head, bit her lip and then said, her voice stronger than before, "my mother used to tell me the woman pirates were worse than the men, but that’s not true isn’t it? There isn’t any woman pirates, is there?"
Max cocked a brow at the girl, well, this was…
She shook her head, muttering profanities in French under her breath as she moved towards her dresser where the mirror was pinned against the wall. A candle sat in the front of it, surrounded by different scents and flowers that Idelle had brought in earlier in the morning. Jasmine, lavender, and a herb that let off the smokiest, bitter smell…
"Your name?" Max asked, picking up a thin splint of pinewood and lighting the tip against the fading flame of the wick of an older candle that had been left burning.
"You said you know everyone’s secrets." The girl answered, sounding distrustful.
Max hummed in agreement. The girl had a strength in her voice that was to be admired, especially for someone who had been a prisoner of Ned Low for so long at sea. Who knew what terrors had been forced upon her, alone, with no friends and no allies, just miles and miles of endless sea?
A silence fell on them then, only broken by the muttering of the name 'Abigail Ash'.
Max hummed again, finishing lightning the candle at the middle of the dresser with a flick of her hand to dismiss the flame at the end of the wood.
At least there would be some lighting around here. It would also help with being able to see the girl better, something that Max was given evidence for when she turned. She saw that Abigail had moved the hair from her eyes and was watching her once more, eyes lingering on her ring again before she moved a hand to touch her stomach gingerly.
Max sighed. The girl was of a poor state, dirty, beaten and no doubt hungry, and whilst Max was not completely sure the beaten look had come from Charles Vane, the girl’s hunger and filth surely had his lack of care involved in it somehow.
She moved slowly to the door, opening it and yelling for Idelle to come up to her room immediately. If Idelle was smart and wanted to impress her then Max wouldn’t need to say anything else, and if she did then…
Max rolled her eyes, shutting the door quietly behind her.
When she turned back again she saw that Abigail had moved from her bed to sit on a wooden stool instead, her dirtied dress now pulled up to her chin as if she was trying to cover up the best she could. It only served in making her look more like a little girl than Max felt comfortable with. But the decision to state that quickly burned off the tip of her tongue, making it feel as though it had swelled ten times larger than its original state.
She realized that she had no idea what to say to the girl, not that there was much to be said to a girl whom was quite literally being used as a ransom. There was also not much she could do, and she wondered if the girl sitting on her stool knew that too.
A knock and then Idelle walked in, a tray of food in her hands that smelled suspiciously like the same broth that Idelle had given to Max only a month back. It almost made Max smile at the unknown affection in that one action alone, but to do so was to give Idelle ammunition to use against her later and so she settled with a simple nod of her head.
Idelle arched her brows in response and accepted the brush of Max’s hand against her own when she accepted the tray of food, moving back with a look that spoke volumes.
"Water, perhaps?" Max suggested then, silently enjoying the scoff that Idelle bit back at the last second as she left the room.
Abigail watched the food in her hands with hungry eyes, and Max, not one to deny those anything unless it was pleasure and sin, knelt to place the tray on her lap. It was no doubt the best meal Abigail would get before she was delivered home, and frankly? Max had no reason not to provide the girl with some comfort, no matter what others thought of her.
The girl dug into her soup with gusto, slurping almost obnoxiously before she quietened down at seeing Max’s eyes on her.
"There was…" Now that Max had told her she could talk, Abigail didn’t seem like she was able to stop. "Another woman who came in here. Is she going to be part of the crew that takes me back? That captain, the one who had me at the fort, he said he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me but-"
"Do not believe everything everyone says on this island," Max interrupted, moving around the girl to cover up a cool to the touch, pale shoulder. "Trust only yourself."
"Should I believe that?" Abigail retorted, spoon still in her mouth, looking over her shoulder at Max with a glare
Max couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. “Clever girl.”
Perhaps there would be no reason to worry about the girl’s safety knowing that Charles Vane, even in spite of who he was, kept his promises. But this was Nassau and if Max knew anything about Nassau…
She knew that God only laughed at the inhabitants that had stepped foot on it.