The casserole was a success, as it would seem. The men smiled, I was praised, and that was the end of it. The men came and left as they had done just about every time I cooked a meal. Larson stayed to clean up and came and left without a word.

I went back to my room that night with a bottle of wine. I sat up and drank about half of it before deciding to stop because I would feel sick in the morning.

My thoughts bounced from one to the other without care. I couldn't stay on a single thought as much as I tried. It seemed useless to try, so I stopped.

I played with my hair, making it more greasy than it already was. I made three small braids in it before I concluded that I didn't know what to do with myself. I was bored. Had I always been this bored on a ship? What had I done to keep myself occupied? Was I this bored at the castle?

I laid down on my pillow, closing my eyes and trying to fall asleep, but nothing came. I even held my breath with the thought I would pass out which seemed to do nothing. It was useless. I sat up, took my lantern, and hobbled my way to Christopher's door.

I was thinking if I should knock or just come in. I ended up knocking and when he told me to come in, I did. I closed the door behind me and stood there a moment. Christopher was at his desk writing something. He didn't turn around until after a moment when I hadn't said or done anything.

He asked if I wanted to sit down and I wabbled over to his bed. I placed the lantern down on his nightstand and asked what he was doing. He said he was drawing. I asked what he was drawing and he said it was a dog. He held it up for me to see.

It didn't look like a dog, but I lied and said it was good. He said thank you and placed it back on his desk before standing up and walking over to his chest of alcohol goods. He asked if I wanted some and when I said no, that I was full, he shrugged and slugged the bottle back. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with his nightgown sleeve, closed it up, and put it back. He sat back down in his chair again and looked at me.

"Why aren't you asleep?" I asked him.

"I find myself bored out of my mind."

"I am too."

"Want to play a game?"

"Sure."

"Would you rather eat three slugs or ten dead flies?"

"Would the slugs be poisonous?"

"No."

"The flies then."

He smiled and asked why I had asked if the slugs were poisonous when I would have picked the flies all along. I said I didn't know, that I was just curious. I asked him the same question and he said the slugs. I asked why and he said that he'd be full after three slugs and that he didn't need to eat for the rest of the day.

"So you'd choose appetite over it being gross?"

"What if I'm in a scenario where I wouldn't get to eat for days? I'd be more full with three slugs than ten measly flies."

"But what if you're not in that scenario, would you still do it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

We went on like this for a while, debating why we would even eat these things in the first place when we finally stopped and sat in silence with each other. It was a good silence. It was the kind where you didn't even have to feel bad about not saying anything. You just sat there, feeling. He started at me and I stared right back at him. He smiled when I met his eyes, and I smiled because it was contagious. I was the first to look away because I was becoming bashful. He stood up and came over to me, sitting down beside me, before deciding that laying down was more comfortable.

"I want you to tell the truth about something," he asked.

"What is it?"

"Am I a whore?" 

He was trying his best to contain his smile, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself. I broke out in a huge smile as I watched him.

"Yes," I said. I was grinning from ear to ear now, as I stared down at him. "Yes, yes you are."

He couldn't contain it anymore and broke out in a chuckle. "Am I a good one, at the least?"

"What's a good one?"

"I'm not quite sure."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

I laughed for a good second before calming myself down and telling him that he was. He asked what I meant and I said I didn't know. He just was.

I laid down then beside him. He turned his head to look at me, but I kept looking at the ceiling.

"Am I your first?" he suddenly asked. That made me turn my head.

"My first what?"

"Your first lover."

"What's a lover, exactly? A person I've kissed? Bedded? Said you were mine?"

"All of it."

"Then no."

"No?"

He turned curious. He turned over to his side and leaned his head on his hand. I laughed and asked why he wanted to know.

"It's a whore's right to know, don't you think?"

"I don't know what to tell you."

"Was I your first kiss?"

"No."

"Your first title of 'yours'?"

"No."

He whispered the last question, embarrassed to say it out loud. "Have you ever made love before?"

I whispered my answer: "No."

We were silent for a long moment and I was gripping my teeth, starting to feel dizzy. I was thinking of leaving when he asked if I'd ever wanted to make love with him before. I told him I had and asked in return if he ever wanted to do the same. He said he had. I asked, very meekly why he hadn't tried and he said he was scared.

"Of what?" I whispered, looking away. He took a moment to respond.

"I don't know."

I bit my lip before saying, "I think about you sometimes. Privately, intimately. I thought about it but its embarrassing."

"Its not. It's...human."

"Do you think of me?" I said, not looking at him.

"I do," he whispered, his voice soft. I was afraid to look at him, partly because it would hurt to turn my head and partly because I was scared that if I did, I'd admit to something that I wasn't ready to admit.

"Why?" I whispered. 

"Why?"

"How?"

"How?" When I didn't say anything else, he said, "I just do. How can I not?"

"I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. It's alright. Everything is alright."

I closed my eyes then, thinking, listening to the waves that crashed against ship. There was a buzz in my head, but I made no movement to stop it. I didn't want to. I thought about what to do next. I thought about what to say. I had nothing.

"I think you're a beautiful woman," Christopher said. "I don't want you to be afraid about me telling you that, or anyone else. I need you to know that, though." My hands sweat at my sides tried not to look at him, I tried not to open my eyes. 

"I'm sorry I'm scaring you."

"No, you don't understand. Its not like that. I'm scared of something else, but I don't know what it is."

"Do you want to sleep in here tonight?" I only had to nod for him to get up and undo the covers. I opened my eyes and crawled underneath them. Christopher tucked me in and leaned down. He touched my cheek, running his thumb softly across it. "Goodnight," he said, and kissed my forehead.