There was something to be said for getting used to being stared at. Violet didn’t even flinch at the way his eyes roamed over her. It was easy not to, to slip back into the patterns of behavior which had kept her alive throughout most of her young life. Very few people would peg her for nearly forty. Maybe a little over half that, but Violet had lived nearly forty years and spent more than half of that life on the wrong side of the law. It was safe to say she understood the dynamics of crooks better than most.
Violet noted his knee injury herself with predatory eyes. It was one of those things that might come in handy later. One took any possible advantage in a fight.
Her teeth did grit a little at being called a prisoner. It was the proper term for the situation, but it was still not a term Violet really wanted to hear. She’d already been a prisoner in one place for six months. She didn’t want to become a prisoner somewhere else now. Instead, she wanted to try and order her own destiny. That meant finding the first available opportunity to change the stacks and taking it. The only question was how soon would that opportunity come?
Then it seemed he was gone and that woman was saying something to her. “Unless you want to die in a tiny boat, I don’t think that’s much of an option.” The biggest problem with taking a small boat out to sea was there was a lot of sea. They had no idea how far the nearest land was and it wasn’t likely they were going to be taking much with them even if they did manage to get one of those boats unhooked. “I’d much rather die being run through, thanks.”
Every time she opened her mouth in the owner’s direction, she felt that urge creep a little higher, the urge to kill her and dump her overboard. She’d be doing some other mutant a favor. As she’d already proved with Ethan, they can’t do much owning if they were dead. She cushioned her chin on her arms and waited for ‘their’ captain to return.
Thankfully, he wasn’t gone long, returning with a few sets of clothes, nearly all of it male. “I don’t fancy most ladies care to continue to wear blood,” Violet had enough blood on her to prove she’d been in a fight, but she’d worn a lot more on occasion.
“Ain’t no lady, sweetie,” as polite as the words might have been, the tone was more along the lines of wicked witch planning a snack, evil and hungry. Violet didn’t move to make any effort to change.