"You don't know her plans!" Pritchard retorted as she seethed, their blades crossing. "Neither do I, but she's a more than fair captain, and woman of honor." He understood the anger and fear Marina must be feeling, and he knew she was valid in every word. However, he would not tolerate slander of Conwell, feeling a strong familial bond with the Captain of the Black Dahlia. Marina's sword clattered to the ground, echoing in the stone alleyway.

As he pulled the gun, she thankfully froze, giving him some sort of relief. Hopefully this meant he wouldn't need to pull the trigger. Her dare seethed from her lips, her anger more than evident. He stared her down for a moment or two, his grip on the gun tightening. After several moments of silence, she let her dagger fall, clinking on the stone ground. Pritchard slipped his gun back into his holster, bending to pick up her sword off the ground and lightly stepping onto her dagger, preventing her from grabbing it right away when his weapons were put away. "If she's let you live this long, I'm sure she doesn't intend on killing you." He said after a moment. He let the silence grow between them, finally picking her dagger up off the ground and slipping it into one of his own pockets. He flipped her sword, offering it back to her in a gesture of kindess and trust.

"Come on," He said, his voice soft and patient. "Let's find you some water and a place to clean up." The cut she'd sliced on his arm was still bleeding, stinging slightly from the salt of his sweat. Unbeknowst to both of them, Conwell stood watching, lifting her chin in a satisfied manner before quiely turning away. She'd seen what she needed to see, heard what she needed to hear. She trusted Pritchard to deal with whatever may follow, for he hadn't taken her life when he could have. She was also pleased with Marina, impressed by her resilience and determination to live, regardless of whatever she faced ahead of her. In a sense, the princess was not wrong. Conwell did want to use her to her advantage, but not in the way she probably thought. It was a smart play to turn an enemy into a friend. Better to have a member of the Kingdom amongst the crew. Perhaps it would bode well. She had no interest in killing the royal family or storming the kingdom for revenge of her husband. She did however, want to make some sort of peace with them. What better way to do so than to have the princess on their side?

"There's a motel not too far from here," Judas said, walking in step with Marina. It's small and not the best, but there's a bath and good food." He walked her through the crowded and dimly lit streets, music still playing boisterously from the pubs and people staggering drunk out into the streets, dancing and laughing, some fighting. He could spot of a few their crew members amongst the crowd, still having a jolly time.

It wasn't long before he approached the small motel, walking her in. "Two baths and two meals," He told the man at the desk, dropping several coins into his hand. The clerk nodded, leading them back into a narrow hall with two separate rooms labled as bath houses. Pritchard let her go into one before walking into the other, quickly washing his body free of the sweat, dirt, grime and blood. He had finished before her, waiting outside the door for her until she emerged. He tossed his head silently for her to follow, walking out to a table and taking a seat. The food was brought to them quickly, cooked pork chops with various vegetables and two drinks.

Pritchard sat in silence with her for some time, keeping quietly to himself as they ate. He lifted the glass of mead to his lips, his gaze flickering towards her as he took a drink. "You know I'm impressed," He rumbled after a moment, growing tired of the silence and wanting to find a way to connect with the stubborn princess. "I thought I might have to deal with some ill conceived escape attempt from you, but I have to commend you on your dedication to the craft." He flashed her a wry smirk, his tone teasing but laced for once with some genuineness.

"You seemed to forget who you were conspiring against though, but nontheless it was a good plan." He took another drink. "May I ask why you want to return so badly?" He knew it was her home, the kingdom was where she'd spent her whole life he assumed. But he couldn't comprehend why someone would want to remain inside a stuffy stone palace on some spit of land inhabited by crowds of people working their lives away. He was genuinely curious, and hoping to get to see a side of her he hadn't yet gotten to see. What made her so determined and stubborn to go back? He remembered her stunt with the water the other day on the ship, and part of him wanted to see that fun side of her return. Perhaps it would, but it would take time.

Pritchard was intrigued by her. She was the first royal he'd ever met who seemed different than the rest. She showed propriety yet also a strong sense of rebellion that he recognized within himself. Maybe they were a little more alike than they realized. For him, the sea was freedom. Sure, it was not always smooth sailing and life was brutal. It was hard, and living this way took many lives, but it was fun. Exhilerating to not be bound by the law or civilization, to roam the earth by sea and experience the joys in life outside of what was considered proper.

"I really thought maybe you'd adjusted a little to life on board," He teased her. "I was just starting to like you, too. Such a shame." He gave her a smile, his tone obviously teasing. He was fond of her in an odd way, and found himself wanting to form some kind of companionship or friendship with her, even if it proved difficult.

Marina savored the silence as she ate, the food oddly delicious. She sipped from her drink as Judas praised her escape attempt. She couldn't say she was confused, she had grown accustomed to Judas's odd way of speaking.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes as he asked his question, debated whether she wanted to answer it or throw her fork at him for asking. She went with the more civil option, as much as she didn't want to. "Maybe I don't like spending my days sweating my ass off with a bunch of pirates." That was the half truth. She also didn't like acknowledging that she had been undermined by said pirates. And she missed her bed.

She finished off her food and pushed her plate away, leaning back in her chair. The first good meal she'd had in days.

His next words caught her off guard. She wasn't sure if he meant the words, but the statement still confused her. "Starting to like me? I just tried to murder you less than an hour ago." She let out a humorless chuckle as she took another drink. "And for the record, this isn't the first time I've been on a ship."

She looked outside and found the streets completely dark, lit up only by the lights that had been strung throughout the town. She assumed they would be leaving in the morning, to where she didn't know. Probably across the continent, destroying her hopes of escaping. The thought made her think of Judas's earlier question. Besides the fact that she was a prisoner, she kind of enjoyed the solitude of the days. She would never admit it, though. She would be glad to stay with them if it was under different circumstances, because if she was being honest, she didn't want to go back. She wanted to see her family long enough to assure them she was okay, get another change of clothes, and haul ass in the opposite direction. Marina supposed that's what she was doing, minus the seeing her family and the extra clothes. She made a mental note to use her leftover change to buy some clothes tomorrow, she was tired of sweating in the same pair.

He chuckled at her reply, taking a drink of mead. "Can't blame you there," He said. "I don't think anyone would fancy spending their days sweating their asses off on a ship full of unruly men." He studied her a little as she told him she'd tried to murder him less than an hour ago.

"Perhaps that's what I like about you," Pritchard retorted, a teasing glimmer in his fiery gaze. "You're a fighter, Marina." He lowered his voice, leaning slightly in as if to let her in on a secret. "Whether or not you want to be a part of this crew now, you are, and I can guarantee I'm not the only one who sees your potential." He paused, studying her features in the firelight. "I'm also willing to bet that there's a lot more potential hidden in that brain of yours, and I can certainly say I'm excited to find out what hidden talents you possess..." He felt a sense of thrilling danger about her, a different kind than he felt around most.

He wasn't sure exactly what it was, unable to pinpoint it, but he could sense she was hiding something. "I believe it isn't your first time being on a ship," He mused with a light grin. "Live in a merchant kingdom near the ocean and you'll find your way onto a ship one way or another I'm sure."

It wasn't too long before Pritchard found himself wishing to sleep. They would be leaving shortly after sunrise in the morning. "Tell me Marina," He started. "Can I trust you?" He raised a brow somewhat expectantly, his eyes glittering with light danger. "I really don't want to have to lock you in the brigg on the ship tonight just to keep you from trying to galivant off and find another body to try and slit my throat. However, I do want some sleep before the sun rises and I'm willing to bet you'd like some as well." He tossed his head towards the keeper at the front. "There's rooms here to stay in for the night, and if I can trust you to keep to it I'll gladly pay the rent fee for you and not keep you below deck with the other filthy, treacherous, mutineers. Do we have an accord?"

He slid his hand across the table in an offer of a shake to seal a deal. He would keep his word so long as she kept hers, that much she could trust. He may be shifty, but when it came to certain things he was not dishonest. Especially when it came to the will of his captain.

Marina finished her drink and set the tankard down on the table, running her fingers through her damp hair so it wasn't slicked to her scalp.

She met Judas's gaze as he rambled about her potential and a bunch of other stuff she didn't listen too. "So it sounds like you guys don't plan on giving me away anytime soon then."

Her gaze traveled across the room, over the rough walls and the empty tables. The sounds outside were growing louder instead of quieter, and the smell of alcohol was pungent. Her brown eyes went back to Judas as he spoke.

She chuckled humorlessly. "I just tried to murder you, you tell me." He caught her attention with his next words. An actual bed sounded wonderful. She supposed she could save her gallivanting for another day.

She hummed. "I suppose." She took her outstretched hand and shook it. Normally she would be plotting her escape at this very moment, but she didn't have the energy. Besides, her one hope of escape was lying dead in an alley somewhere, and it seemed highly unlikely for her to swim the whole ocean. She could tell by the look in Judas's eyes that he would keep his word. Only if she kept hers of course. She wasn't a math scholar, but she knew her odds of escaping weren't in her favor, and she would kill for a decent night of sleep.

The sound of music flowed through the open doors of the inn. She had no idea where you assembled a band in this sort of town, but she couldn't deny that the music was good. Ever since Marina was young she had grown an affinity for music. She thrived at her father's parties and masquerades, dancing until the wee hours of the morning, then spending the rest of the day in bed because she physically couldn't make herself walk. Music was the one thing that made Marina feel completely like herself, like her own person, and not the person she was taught to be.

It was this reason why she didn't notice her fingers drumming lightly on the table to the beat of the music.

"So, Judas, if I may ask, what led you to be a pirate? I mean, my father would kill for someone as talented as you in the Navy ranks. So why a pirate? I could assure you my father would pay much greater than whatever you make here. If you make anything at all." She kept her tone nonchalant, seeming as if she was merely chit chatting and not trying to pry information from him.