From the moment she had set foot on the Dream, Ebony had wished to be back in her own cabin, but now that she was, she too was having a bit of a hard time getting over what had happened just outside her door (and in her room, too, if you wanted to get technical about it). It wasn't that she wasn't pleased to be back, but it was difficult to get the shouting, shoving, and that lone gunshot, out of her head. Of course it was nothing compared to the fact that Liam was gone, out of her life -possibly- for good. Really she doubted she could ever pay back what she owed to Ira, and to Carey, but she could try, she could do her very best. Bruises had lingered on her skin; some for days and others for more than a week, but they were gone now. The only reminders she had left were the thoughts she lingered on when she wasn't focused on anything else.
It would be horribly selfish to think that just because they were back on the same ship, Ira would focus all (or even a majority) of his time on her, and she wouldn't be lying to say that that wasn't the case at all. Ebony had always been rather good at understanding the circumstances of others lives, after all it was sort of a requirement when teaching history. You can't really understand it unless you know why people were the way they were, and did the things they did. She knew, of course, that Ira and Carey were best friends, and never would she dream of setting foot between that. She knew also, that his job did need to be done, as did hers (and she was pleased to be back in her own position, too) but when they had the time, she was more than willing to spend it in his company.
When he'd asked to see her she'd been a bit surprised, but she had always expected people to just know that she wanted them around (whether she should have or not). In the two days since she'd gotten back she hadn't had time to make a mess of her cabin, so cleaning it up wasn't an issue. Cleaning herself up, however, was a different story. While she knew that Ira wouldn't likely care if she appeared to have just rolled out of bed she couldn't help but change into pair of pajama shorts and a shirt that looked a little more well kept than her earlier outfit had. In fact she was just tugging the latter of those over her head when she heard him knock on her door. Dainty feet padded quickly across the carpeted floors and her fingers latched onto the knob, turning it gently and pulling to reveal the man standing before her. Immediately, she smiled.
"Good evening," Her hair was back, her head tilted to the side, as she stepped out of his way and motioned for him to come in, "I'm sorry I'm not exactly dressed..."