The Captain was in the captain's seat at the helm, where he could clearly see the bow and the gals there goading each other to jump off into the water now that it was dark and the gentle waves below were lit by moonlight and the twinkling, warm shimmer of the ship. He didn't seem particularly interested, though, or engaged by the rest of the expansive room where he appeared to have prepared for the long haul with plates of food and plenty to drink in the dry, conditioned coolness. Instead, he looked up from what looked like three games of chess; a projected hologram where a piece moved deliberately on its own while Tony grinned apologetically at Pietro. "Just got caught up..." he tried to excuse, gesturing at his game that must have been downright enthralling to keep him distracted for so long. Licking then biting his lip, Tony turned his chair to face Pietro, see, fully engaged, not hiding, lounging casually with his head propped in his hand. "He didn't try to pay anyone, did he?" he had to ask, just so he knew to deftly sidestep he angry humiliation. Ladies didn't really appreciate being called prostitutes, whatever class, and that certainly would be easy to blame on Tony.