Their words are spoken in hushed tones, for if they speak louder, they will wake the dead.

It is hard for Mickey to find Clara alone. She is always glued to Flo and Beverly's side, especially now that since the second attack, no one is willing to travel alone.

Eventually, he walks up to her while she is standing with Flo and Adwin.

"Can I speak to you alone?" he asks.

Flo smiles. She gently pushes Clara forward. "Yes, you can."

Adwin doesn't speak, because it is not his turn, yet he wants Clara to go as well. After all, like Mickey seeking Clara, Adwin has sought Flo.

When Clara nods, the two head out the cabin and on to the grass.

And of course, Hubert walks by.

Clara watches him. He brushes past her without saying a word. He heads into the cabin, and Clara's breath is still taken away. She watches and watches, waiting for him to exit. When he comes out, he brings Maverick with him down towards the beach.

While Mickey wants to interrupt Clara from her daze, he decides against it. Even when he realizes the cause of her concern. If it takes three minutes for her to notice that he is still there, then so be it.

She looks over at Mickey, and then back at the cabin. "Sorry. What was it that you wanted to discuss?"

Mickey leads her a bit farther away from the cabin. They lie down in the grass next to each other. Though Clara stares upwards, Mickey rolls on to his side to look at her. It has been days since they last talked, and it is likely that Clara is still angry that he... well, he is not entirely sure what, but it is something.

"I need to fess up," Mickey's eyes look to the soft contours of her jawline. He doesn't understand how someone like Clara can look so smooth yet be so hard. She's difficult, and he likes that. It only makes it harder to tell her.

She rolls on to her side so she can get a better look at him. She realizes that their faces are so close. She doesn't scooch back, but she doesn't inch closer either (if she knew what was good for her, she would).

"I like you, Clara," he tells her.

She blinks at him, because she had never expected him to admit it. She still isn't sure where she stands on the matter, because Clara desires being desired, and so whenever she is near Mickey, she feels fire in her stomach, and it quite clear that Hubert doesn't long for her, but is that enough?

Initially, Mickey had planned to ramble that he knows that Hubert doesn't deserve her. While Mickey himself doesn't deserve her either, Hubert Tremblay is a particular form of rotten that is unlike anyone else on the planet. That rant is cut short by the soft look in her eyes.

So, he asks, "can I kiss you?"

She isn't sure she wants to, but no one has ever asked for her permission before. Clara nods.

He kisses her, and she kisses back.

~~~

With Flo and Adwin isolated (Maverick having just left with Hubert), Adwin sits down on a bed.

Flo falls into position beside him, wordlessly. She is all cried out, but the comfort of Adwin is never enough for her. Since the others are gone, she lets her hair cascade across Adwin's lap.

He strokes her hair, absentmindedly, while she bites her lip below him. She wonders if Bev would ever touch her like this, and if she would even want her to try. It seems a magic that only Adwin possesses. Each of them provides a different service, and both are good.

Adwin likes to be this close with someone. It makes him feel like the protector that he has never been able to be. He is strong, but not as strong as the other men. He is smart, but his intelligence hinders connections with the others more than it helps.

"I know you are from the 1920s," Adwin begins. "I saw you in your flapper outfit when you arrived."

Though she wants to speak, she doesn't dare. This is a rare moment, one where Adwin doesn't rant and ramble. Every word seems planned. And his voice is quiet, like he is praying that she doesn't hear him. If she were to move, he might stop all together.

So Flo does what she does best. She freezes under duress.

"I am from the 1930s, and Mickey from the 1940s," Adwin adds. He sucks in a deep breath, hoping the pressure will build in his lungs and force out the words. "In the thirties there will be a great market crash, and everyone will become poor. I'm one of the lucky ones, I receive $27 a week."

Flo doesn't speak. She makes more than that in commission at the boutique. Then again, she is also one of the lucky ones. She makes the mistake of shifting, thinking Adwin is done.

He tightens his grip on her, holding her in place. He still has more to tell her. More answers without questions. "Mickey told me there is to be a second world war, against the Germans again. It will be in the forties, as far as I've gathered. I estimate that millions will die."

Flo finally pulls herself up. If there is another thing, then she can't bare it. So, she looks up at Adwin and frowns.

"Why would you tell me this when I can do nothing?" Flo says.

"We can do something," he tells her. "Pull out your family's stocks. Have children that will be too young to fight. That is the best that I can offer."

Flo shakes her head. "That isn't enough."

Sadly, Adwin knows it.

~~~

"We need something to cheer everyone up," Bev says, as she assists Alvaro in the task of carrying all two buckets of water towards the rot.

It's getting harder, as the rot has spread across her chest. It encroaches her legs and her other arm. She has trouble moving her torso, as it turns stiff and brittle like old dried wood. With one hand, she manages to heave a pail, but she requires Alvaro's assistance.

"I don't know that people need cheering up, Bev," Alvaro grunts. The task is harder than he would admit, and though he appreciates Bev's enthusiasm, it is not enough. He stares at her gloved hand, wondering about the scars below. He knows better than to ask, for he has dozens of abrasions along his skin.

Beverly shakes her head. "Of course people need to be happier. Mickey, Maverick and Hubert have been sulking all week. It's almost obtuse of them."

"They feel like they've killed someone," Alvaro doesn't cut in that Mickey does not belong to that group. Mickey has of course, killed many people (he assumes (correctly)) and so rather than a death-related sadness weighing him down, it is one related to none other than the infamous Clara.

"Oh, no matter," Bev says. She moves to swipe her hand, but it still hangs loosely at her side. She needs a sling, but she doesn't want to bother Alvaro with that information. It will only stress the others out, and she needs them to be chipper.

Alvaro sighs. "I don't know. I... how good are you at keeping secrets?"

"Very," Bev says. "Much to my own detriment, actually."

While he isn't sure, Alvaro decides there is only one way to find out. "I've killed two men before, and it's not something you get over quickly. They need time to heal."

Beverly blinks. She cocks her head to the side, even though it strains her neck. "Who have you killed and why?"

"Bad people," Alvaro says, as if it is enough elaboration. The first step to being forgiven for your sins is confession, and Alvaro desperately wants God to forgive him.

She nods, because she doesn't know what else to say. She would imagine he is lying if his lips weren't so straight. Ultimately, she decides that if she wants to be a pirate, she had better get used to a little murder.

~~~

Maverick walks towards the shore with Hubert. He waits for an answer that is not going to come. Every so often, his eyes move to Hubert, to try and dissect his face to find his thoughts. They are, obviously, hidden too well for Maverick to find them.

Hubert thinks about trusting Maverick. Unfortunately, Clara is too close to disaster, Adwin exists in his own world, Alvaro is too volatile, the others too distant. Out of all the strangers, Maverick is the most level-headed. If Hubert wanted to, maybe he could say something.

Maybe he could tell him about the heavy weight of the dead on his shoulders.

Instead, the two walk in silence, one at ease and one filled with suspicion.

"What is it that you need to show me?" Maverick asks, looking over at Hubert.

"Clothes," Hubert answers with ease.

He continues walking towards the beach without blinking. Maverick stops to ponder, and then races forward.

"You ought to be more specific," Maverick insists, looking at Hubert's tightknit brow, beaded with sweat. It has cooled down in the days since Tim's death, and they aren't moving quick enough to cause the droplets of water to form on Hubert's skin.

Maverick doesn't know that they are from Hubert's anxiety.

"We are the closest we've ever been to solving the mystery of the rot, and that mysterious figure you have all mentioned," Hubert points out.

Finally, they reach the shore. On the rocks lies a deep green dress, almost black because it is soaking wet. The material is ripping apart at the seems, and covered in seaweed, but otherwise the dress is intact.

"The lighthouse man found this," Hubert fumbles for the word keeper and doesn't manage to find it.

Maverick is too distracted to notice. He bends down and touches it, almost to make sure it is real. It is soggy and wet (and though we all expect him to disintegrate away, he doesn't). "This belonged to Miss Ivy. Did... where is her body?"

Hubert shrugs. "It's odd, isn't it? The same thing happened to your Tim."

His Tim. As if Maverick could take any more ownership for the suicide than he already has. He stands up, pulling his hands in his pockets. The figure doesn't seem to like the water, and while he doesn't trust something that tried to overtake Beverly in the forest, he wonders if the water too is not to be trusted.

Maybe they have no friends here.

~~~~~

This makes me so excited! Urgh, trust me things are going to get wild next chapter! I am so very excited.