Strelitzia had no idea what she was doing. This was the first time she had to really clean anything. The task wouldn't have been immensely difficult but the pirates had a knack for dirtying things. Aloya said that her cousin Ray'ven had been given a more difficult task, Strel worried for her if that were really true. For hours she shuffled from room to room with the bucket of supplies she had been given; dusting, sweeping, and scrubbing until she was worn with exhaustion and the scabbed wound on her chest burned from the exertion.

Though they were allowed baths earlier, she was already dirty. Though the clothes she had been given were aged and stained before, now they were covered with fresh new smudges of dirt. The only positive thing about the experience was that she was able to learn some of the ship's layout. She seemed to be around the mid level of the ship, possibly a floor lower, gauging from the distance between where she was now and the sea which was visible from one of the portholes in the hallway.

Most of the living quarters were just narrow spaces adjacent to one another separated by the wooden walls of the ship, although it was clear that some of the more favored of the crew seemed to have more space or furniture in slightly better shape. Honestly, she was surprised that the pirate lord would allow that but it wasn't as if he was more than a mere man. They'd really have trouble if they started to view him as more than another person.

Gently she knocked on the door to the next room and entered without waiting for a response. All of the other rooms for the most part were unoccupied, everyone else seemed to have their own obligations to take care of. Strelitzia closed the door behind it and leaned against the wall, giving herself a moment's break from all of the hussle and bussle.

There was a pleasant floral scent lingering in the air here, different from the rest. She was unsure but the air in the space felt different as well..warmer in a sense. There was a certain comfort in it. She set down her bucket and was about to set to work when she noticed a figure lying in the bed tucked into the corner of the room. The pale moonlight did little to illuminate the living space except a flash of gold as their head turned beneath the covers. Slowly, she crept forward to peek over the edge of the blanket revealing a very ill looking James.

When the blanket had shifted from his face, James groaned, wondering whether it had been Razmyr checking up on him again. He hoped this time he'd keep his thoughts to himself about how he sacrificed his health for the daughter of Rogan. His captain told him: "If the girl didn't take the medicine from her cousin, you should've let her die. You shouldn't have risked your own life."

The thought alone caused his eyes to crack open. "Are you here to chastise me ag-" James's words caught in his throat as he noticed the round yet narrowed eyes of Strelitzia Magiano. "What do you think you're doing?!" He coughed out and narrowed his eyes. Their lids held dark circles, and bags from lack of sleep too made his face look more horrible than the first time she'd seen him.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at him. "You look absolutely awful." She frowned and motioned to the cleaning supplies behind her. "I came to clean but I can come back when you're better." Or not at all, her mind said. Strel only offered because she really didn't need him running back to his captain about her refusal to do chores.

Had Razmyr sent her here to test him or was she truly given the chore of cleaning rooms? Considering the two possible options, James leaned up from the cotton mattress and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Only if you wish to." He muttered, that soft brown gaze of his watching her closely before shifting towards the bucket of fresh water set on top of the table. He was thirsty. Lips cracked and chapped.

James wouldn't allow her to see how exhausted he was--or sick besides the way his appearance was. If he stood up he probably would crash hard. "You may leave."

It was a relief when he said that she was free to go, but a small lump of guilt formed in her stomach. He truly did look awful and he was that way because of her. Because he chose to save her life. She followed his look from her to the water. Strel snorted at the pirate trying to pretend he was stronger than he felt.

"Here. Let me help." She reached out for the bucket of water and gently pushed James' shoulder so that he would ease back on to the bed. "I owe you for saving me so don't think this is out of kindness."

The gentle touch and push she'd sent to his shoulder caused him to recoil back out of fear of what was to come: the pain from the crack of whips that held fragments of glass and metal, the punches, the strikes from his mother, and those filthy men who were once his masters, violation. Yet the agony didn't come. Nothing. Normally he would've been drowning in flashbacks.

James glimpsed up at her, stunned. "I said get out…. please." His brown eyes widened as he sluggishly walked past her and opened the door. "I don't want your forgiveness. I know what I did. I don't deserve your help either. I saved your life because your father had asked me to with his last dying breath."

Deep down inside those weren't the words he originally wanted to say. She had terrified him. Everyone's touch felt like flames and brought forth reminders that he was scarred and broken, damaged beyond repair, but her touch soothed him. What left his mouth was something he knew Razmyr would've thought best for him to say. "Thank you for the offer." He breathed out and leaned against the doorframe for balance. He must have looked like a fool. In front of her of all people.

Strelitzia was surprised by his sudden outburst and it took a moment to register what he said. She set the water back down before collecting the cleaning supplies once more. Her mouth pressed into a hard line but she said nothing. Strel even avoided looking at him, stepping past and out the door. Inwardly she was kicking herself for having even offered to help.