True to his word, the stranger left her alone for several hours.

Iliana spent them examining the room for anything that might help her, and when she found nothing, she paced like a caged animal. Her thoughts churned, replaying the previous scenes with the utmost scrutiny.

I think I saw... five men, she decided. With Aran and the kidnapper, that made the crew amount to seven. But he mentioned a woman's name.

She paused, mulling that matter over. Perhaps she could use that. Try to draw sympathy from whomever the other woman was. If that didn't work, she could try using the men. Sirens were supposed to be alluring, right? Even if it was her... shouldn't she be able to do something to pull them into her pace? She'd become a siren, perhaps she could sing. The idea made her skin crawl, but she wouldn't dismiss a potential weapon, even if it was what had landed her in this situation in the first place. If the crew of the Airlea was alive...

Ifs wouldn't get her off the ship. She needed to focus.

Moving back towards the door, she plucked the ceremonial blade from where it'd still been secured against her thigh. Before she tried talking to people, she'd give fighting back one more shot. After all, no one had ever praised Iliana for her skill with words.

So, she waited with her back against the wall. Time seemed to inch by, but she forced herself to stay still and as alert as possible. An impossible task, as her body was practically screaming its weariness. At some point, she fell into a half-dozing state. The sound of someone in the hall jerked her to attention. Iliana's heart began to race, her hand clenching around the hilt of her weapon.

The second the door swung open, she sprung forward. Before she could land a blow, however, a hand caught her wrist. Within seconds he'd used her momentum to spin her against the wall, arm twisted to a painful degree so her weapon was pressed lightly against her own waist. She froze, knowing any movement on her end would merely cause her pain. In turn, her captor let out a low chuckle.

"I thought this might happen," he mused. "Damn good thing I didn't send Ira to fetch ya, lass. Not sure how the crew would take it if you hurt the lad."

Her answer was a series of curses, and a vague threat on what she'd do if he didn't let her go. The man simply continued to chuckle, seeming entirely too lax given the circumstances.

"I'd hoped a few hours down here would make you simmer down a bit, but it'd seem not," he said, his tone an irritating mixture of amusement and thoughtfulness. "I'd leave you here to see if you just need more time, but the boys got it in their heads to do a real breakfast, and I ain't got it in my heart to tell them no."

In her head, she was murdering him ten different ways. Everything about this man was aggravating her. He acted as if he didn't have a blade on her, and wasn't pinning her to a wall at the moment. If anything, he sounded as if she and him were some old friends, and she was the one in the wrong. As if she should appreciate them making breakfast for her, the captive.

"I won't eat."

"Now that's just rude," he retorted.

"And pinning me to a wall isn't?" she snapped.

He fell silent for a second, as if considering her words. "Well, fair enough."

Just as sudden as he'd trapped her, the man let her go. She spun around, eyeing him warily. He hadn't even bothered to force her to release the weapon. Rather, he seemed to have forgotten about it completely as he posed his thumb beneath his chin, wrinkling his brow in thought. Something about the studious gaze he focused on her in that moment rubbed her wrong, so Iliana offered a harsh glare in return.

"What?"

He shrugged. "You didn't change. I was wondering if your next escape attempt will be death by illness. Or, perhaps you're just fond of dresses? I could ask Eumelia if she'd be willing to spare one, but it'd probably hang off of you like a rag, so I'd thought it better not to."

She hesitated. Did that mean the clothing he'd mentioned before... was it men's clothing?

"I was busy," she muttered.

He raised a skeptical brow. "Somehow, I doubt that. Unless you found something utterly fascinating about an empty room..."

"You're an ass."

"I thought that'd already been established...?"

"Get out," she ordered.

"Breakfast--"

"I'm changing now, and you're not going to be in the room while I do it!" She punctuated the words with a glower, and he snickered, putting his hands up as if to ward off her anger.

"Fair enough. I'll just have to be good, for now. Eumelia'd kill me for peeking without permission," he replied, then paused, cocking his head slightly. "Although, if it was with permission..."

When she threw the blade at his head, the man started laughing again. He shifted his head at the last second, sending the weapon flying into the hall behind him. She swore, giving a very childish stomp of her foot, which only seemed to amuse him further.

"This'll be fun," he decided. "Exasperating, I imagine, but fun."

"Fuck off!"

Seeming to finally listen, the man stepped back into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Iliana glowered at it for a moment, then stomped over to the trunk. A quick glance inside confirmed her earlier guess. It was filled to the brim with men's clothing of different sizes and styles. What possible reason he had for owning such an assortment of clothing, she had no idea. The sirens owning a bunch of dresses had made sense-- they never knew when they were going to take in a new "family" member. With this group, though...

Do they kidnap a lot of people? She wondered irritably, as she dug out a few items that might fit her. He did say he was good at it. I wouldn't put it past him, the asshole.

Whatever the reason, she made quick work of changing out of her damp dress. She paused, however, before tugging at her underclothes. Instead, she studied her body for a moment, brow furrowed. Something feels... off. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was a certain... strangeness. Which was weird, given it was her own body. Shouldn't it feel familiar, not, well, strange?

When she couldn't place what was bothering her, even after a full minute of staring at herself, she shook her head and grabbed at one of the older shirts. It took quite a bit of work and tearing, but she'd soon managed to make it into a makeshift chest-wrap so she could have dry underclothing as well. It wasn't comfortable, but she wasn't about to complain about something that private. Only seconds after she'd finished, the man barged back into the cabin.

"You can't just do that!" she snapped.

"Why?" he countered. "Something wrong?"

"I was changing!"

"And you're changed, so where's the problem?" he asked, a wicked grin on his lips.

She felt like screaming in frustration-- a near constant state in his presence. "I didn't say I was done. What if I hadn't been?"

The man made a show of considering this. He placed his thumb beneath his chin once again, and straightened his expression into a serious one. Then, he smirked.

"I'd have gotten a free show?"

Heat invaded her cheeks, her mind unable to pull up an appropriate response to such brazen words. As she gaped at him, he turned back to the hall, before glancing over his shoulder.

"Well, are you coming?"

"I'm not!"

"If you don't walk yourself, I have no problems with carrying you."

"I'd like to see you try," she mocked.

The man flashed that wicked grin of his. "Sounds like a challenge."

He turned back around, and despite realizing her mistake, Iliana crossed her arms and took up a stubborn, defiant stance.

"I'm not scared," she declared. "Just because you think you're great, doesn't mean I'm going to agree to have dinner with my captors. I'm no friend to pirates."

Once again, he just laughed. "We're not pirates."

Her faux confidence faltered somewhat, but she managed to recover her glower rather quickly. "Oh, really? Then what are you?"

"Mercenaries," he answered instantly.

She could only stare. Mercenaries? But, that would mean someone hired them. Who would send mercenaries after me?

If he noticed her shock, the man gave no indication. Instead, he took a step closer, that grin of his never fading.

"So, how're we doing this? Am I carrying you?"

Stowing away the new information, Iliana reconsidered her stubborn choice. His movements before had been smooth, just like when he'd fought her on the cliff. The man was no newbie-- he'd no doubt been in this line of work for some time. She, on the other hand, was a street girl, turned somewhat noble, turned merchant, turned siren. None of those positions gave her the skills needed to fend off a mercenary. Challenging him would be stupid.

"Like hell," she muttered.

"Then you'll walk?"

"Same answer."

"Then I'm confused," he replied, taking another step closer. "Because, I believe I only offered two choices."

She jutted her chin out. "I didn't like them, so I'm making my own."

"Then I'll just be tossing you over my shou--" he cut off with a series of colorful swears.

"You'll be doing no such thing!"

A slender woman appeared from behind him. Iliana hadn't seen her enter-- she'd been so focused on the man-- but now that she had, she wondered how she'd missed her. The newcomer was no beauty, but there was something eye-catching about her. Her hair, bright copper, hung to her lower-back, and nearly blocked view of her vivid, mud-brown eyes. Her skin, a milky porcelain that could have rivaled Melitta's color, was smooth, with just the faintest, angry red lighting up her cheeks.

"I ought to beat you right now," the woman continued. Her words, like Aran and the man, seemed to hold that faint, accented sharpness. As if common was her second language. "That's no way to speak to a guest."

The man shot her a scowl, his jovial mood suddenly missing. "That hurt! You can't just go around slugging people in their backs. You're a damn doctor!"

She scoffed. "If that was all it took to injure you, you'd've croaked years ago. Now, I want to hear an apology."

"What?"

"An apology!" the woman repeated. "Now."

Iliana watched, rather amazed, as he seemed to shrink in the face of this new woman's anger. Which was rather funny, given that the newcomer had to have been somewhere around five foot in height. Within seconds, the giant had gone from indignant to rubbing the back of his neck with a wary hand.

"But, ya know, the boys wanted her to come, and it's not like she's gonna go willingly..." he muttered.

"What're you, a child?" the woman shot back. "Grow a backbone and tell'em to give her a few days! Honestly."

"Bu--" he began.

"Mama said no," a voice complained.

Iliana glanced towards the door, and found herself even more surprised than before. In the doorway stood a boy who looked no older than five, perhaps four. His hair, the same distinct shade of red as the woman's before him, looked as if he'd just jumped out of bed. The idea was only driven in as the child rubbed his eyes with one hand, a yawn escaping his lips.

"Mommy said no, so you gotta listen," he continued. Unlike the others, his words held no accent. "Else, I'll call you Lykos again."

This seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. The stranger, Lykos, gave in with a heavy sigh, before glancing towards her.

"Fine, then. I'll apologize. She can stay here, I'll bring some food by later. That good enough for you, little man?"

The boy nodded, then suddenly darted forward to grab onto Lykos' legs. "Uh-huh!"

Seemingly content, the woman shooed them towards the door as soon as Lykos had swung the child up onto his shoulders. Uncertain of what to make of this strange situation, Iliana could only stare as the woman suddenly glanced back at her, a warm smile on her lips.

"Sorry about him, he's a bit too rough, I know," she said. "I'll make sure he keeps his word and brings food by later. I'll be coming with him, so it's no trouble. You and I have a lot to talk about... hm, he didn't say. What's your name?"

She hesitated. If they didn't know her name... then it wasn't her, specifically, they'd been after. Then, what had they been hired to do? Also, what sort of mercenary ship had a child that young?

"Iliana," she muttered after a moment.

"Eumelia," the woman replied. "Nice meeting you. I'd stay, but if I leave them be, Lykos will let him eat nothing but bread."

"I wouldn't," he protested. "I'd at least stick a fruit on his plate."

The child buried his hands in Lykos' hair, dropping his head so he could stare into the mercenary's eyes. "I don't wanna. You won't make me, right, Papa?"

"Well..."

"See?" Eumelia demanded. "Spineless. Honestly, how you ever became a captain is beyond..."

The trio disappeared into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. Iliana heard a lock click into place, but she didn't move from where she stood.

What the hell just happened?

A/N: I'm finally getting into the fun stuff! I've been so impatient to introduce these characters, so I'd love to hear what you think of them so far. 

What do you think's going on with the little trio? How about Lykos? Agree with Iliana about him being an ass? Or the fact they're mercenaries~~ Any clues as to what's going on there?