Alfred jotted things down as she spoke, but since she didn't have an exact inventory handy he kept his letter suitably vague. "They'll get returned," he said confidently as he continued writing. "Or if they're truly lost, he'll pay you for them." He was strongly suggesting as much in his letter, anyway, and dropping in a few not-very-subtle threats about what should happen if his recommendations weren't followed. Alfred didn't have much power in the grand scheme of things, not when one was talking about society or the Ministry or the world at large, but he did have quite a bit of sway in the rather small magical nautical community that existed in Britain — and specifically those that tended to dock in the Thames for extended periods. He could make the Serena unwelcome the next time that she tried to pull in, and wouldn't hesitate to do so if this bloke insisted on being a crook. Particularly when all that was at stake was lady's clothing — honestly, what did he even have to gain here?

Finishing up his note, Alfred waved the parchment lightly to allow the ink time to dry before folding it. "I don't keep an owl here, but I'll send it off today," he told her, placing the folded letter in his pocket. "If anything ends up missing from your trunks when you get them back, just let me know."

  

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

It seemed Saturn was right to idolize Captain Darrow. His assistance in retrieving her belongings was wholly unexpected but greatly appreciated. There wasn't much that couldn't be replaced, aside from the notebooks anyway. The research hastily scrawled on those pages would take years to replicate and various details would likely be forgotten. Losing them permanently would be devastating.

"Thank you." She said softly. "You didn't have to do that."

  

"Sure I did," Alfred said with an easy shrug. It was such little effort on his part, really, to write a letter, and he was assuming the ordeal would stop there as the other captain would be all too eager to return the trunks and get the air between the two of them clear again. "The honor of my entire profession is at stake here. I mean, if you can't trust a sailor..." he joked with a goofy smile. He was being a bit tongue-in-cheek due to the reputation that sailors tended to have, but he could also make a very valid (in his opinion, anyway) argument that they ought to be some of the most honorable men you could find. The officers, anyway. He wasn't sure he would vouch for every member of his crew — he'd seen some of them make some pretty questionable life choices, particularly in foreign ports.

"It's a good thing your mother did have spare dresses for you," he pointed out as he moved back up to the sofa. "It would have been quite the scandal if you were walking around in the same dress you traveled in for three weeks."

  

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"It was great thinking." Jo agreed wholeheartedly as she offered him his beer back. The few dresses remaining to her weren't the best, seeing as some were made before she hit her final growth spurt, but they weren't simply made of the remaining scraps either. And plus, without Tiffany's smart thinking she would've been left to try and squeeze into Mars' blouses and trousers.

"The real scandal would have me attempting to wear Mars' clothing without permanently altering them." Jo said with a laugh. "She's, er, much thinner than I."

  

Alfred blinked in confusion at her statement. “What?” he asked, eyes turning down to survey her body through her dress without even thinking about it. He had never met her twin, so maybe she was right, but he couldn’t imagine a thinner version of her. He hadn’t noticed her frame before, particularly, but from what he was seeing now she looked fairly athletic. “But you’re not... big,” he protested.

Unless there was some kind of magic involved in her dress — either the traditional kind or the Muggle kind that just involved a lot of trussing up and tying off. He had a sudden urge to reach out and touch the side of her dress to see if he could feel particularly harsh corset bones, or something, but of course that would have been wholly inappropriate. “Unless you’ve got one hell of a corset,” he said instead. “But, uh... I mean, you look great.”

  

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Truthfully, Mars' chest might have developed more than her own after having gone through one and a half pregnancies. Though, if it had Jo hadn't noticed any significant changes. Perhaps pregnancy brought about less change than Jo thought, but even that made no sense. Birthing a person had to have some physical impact...

Merlin, was she really going to have to check out her twin's chest?

"No, I'm not." Jo confirmed with a teasing laugh. "Last I saw she wasn't, either." It had been years though...Mars had to be at least double Jo's size now, right? That was how pregnancy worked. Fuck, she was going to have to check out Mars.

"Would you like to see my corset?" She teasingly asked. "You can examine how good of a job it does." His discomfort was obvious, and she simply couldn't resist teasing him further.

  

Alfred laughed a little nervously at her offer, and took another swig of his beer. It wasn't as though he could be imagining the way that sounded — it was utterly unambiguous. That resolved his dilemma about whether or not she was actually flirting with him before, or whether he'd just been reading too much into the conversation. No, the hints she'd been dropping before were real, most likely — and maybe coming here with her hair down was, too, or any number of other small things he'd picked up on but been afraid to assign any agency to for fear of misreading the situation and getting himself into trouble.

"You know, when you say things like that, I don't know whether to take you seriously or not," he said, which was true. The connotation behind her words could not be mistaken, but did she mean them literally, or was it just a way of teasing him? If he was a little bolder and had said something suave and equally teasing in response, would she start stripping right here, in the middle of the sitting room? A stirring went through him at the thought, and he shifted his weight — bringing himself, intentionally or not, just the slightest bit closer to her on the sofa.

  

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Most men Jo flirted with fit in either one of two categories: some would wordlessly encourage her to make a move and the others would suggest something equally scandalous. Hell, a third category even existed for the select few bold enough to act on their own accord - to lean over the length of the sofa and kiss her right then. Captain Darrow — Alfred, if he was going to see her underthings, didn't seem to fit in any of those. Had her flirting been too subtle? Had she missed some sign from him signaling he wasn't interested? He had invited her over with the intention of undressing to show her his tattoos...what had she misread?

But, he had inched closer to her. Jo was certain of it. If he wasn't interested wouldn't he have refused her and forced her ro leave? "And if I am serious?" She asked. Jo leaned her elbow on the back of the couch as she stared at him, her body angled towards him now.

  

Alfred felt his mouth go dry and impulsively took another drink. His beer wasn't going to last long, at this rate. His eyes slid down to her body once again without his really thinking about it; when he caught himself he blushed and hastily returned his eyes to her face. "Well, I don't know what 'serious' means for you," he continued. She seemed to be stating quite frankly that she was willing to get undressed, that much was now clear, but what then? There was a lump consistently rising to his throat — and a different kind of lump starting to form at the front of his pants — as he considered what might happen next.

"I'm not really the sort of man to go undressing girls I've just met," he clarified. "Though I realize it, uh — well, it would certainly look that way from your perspective." Honestly, he had no idea what had possessed him to give her his address after only having known her a few hours, but here they were. It occurred to him that this was sort of deja vu — he'd written the same sort of thing to Zelda, after he'd slept with her that night on the boat and then sailed off into the sunset, and he'd made the same sort of protests to her brother when he'd encountered him in August. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I swear I'm not a dishonorable cad. Well, if all evidence consistently pointed to the same conclusion, maybe he was a cad.

"You were so easy to talk to, at the pub," he explained in something of a rush. "And so interesting, compared to most of the people I meet around here — and you seemed to actually care about the things I was saying, about traveling and expeditions and about my tattoos, and it's not — not many people get it, and you seem like maybe you do. And I would like to see your corset," he admitted, cheeks flushed deep red now. "But this is all — moving very quickly, and I don't know — I mean, it was probably wrong of me to invite you over, wasn't it? And I don't want to do something that — that we end up regretting because we don't really even know each other," he finished. Merlin, he hoped that made some sort of sense, because he hadn't been paying enough attention as the words tumbled out of his mouth to really know whether it did or not. He was embarrassed enough for just having had to say it at all (and slightly mortified, in retrospect, that he'd actually come right out and said he wanted her to undress), and if he ended up needing to clarify or repeat anything, he might just die of shame instead.

The following 1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post:1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post
   Jupiter Smith

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Her eyes widened as he rambled. Dear Lord, she really had read him entirely wrong. He didn't fit into any of the categories because he was unlike most she had ever met. Which, wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but could very easily lead her down the path of marriage and convention. How many times had she had that conversation with certain flings of hers? How many times had she had to walk away from a friendship because they pushed for more than she could offer?

"Alfred," she began, choosing to use his name despite their obvious lack of personal intimacy. If it made him uncomfortable, he could correct her. "We don't have to do anything, if that's what you mean." Jo said as she sat up straighter, unconsciously leaning towards him slightly. "I meant it when I said that I enjoyed talking to you, too. You do get it in a way most don't. And I'm happy to leave it there if that's all you're comfortable with."

"If you're curious about the working of a corset, I can show you. It doesn't have to come off. If you're still willing to show me your tattoos I'm brimming with curiosity, but that can be in the future if you're not ready for that either. Really, I'm just happy to be your friend."

  

"No, no," he assured her immediately. "I don't want you to leave." He was being honest about enjoying his conversation with her before, and he wouldn't have invited her here if he hadn't wanted her company, at least to some extent. "And I'm not even saying that we can't... do anything," he clarified, with another blush. "Just that if we do I think — I think — well, I'd need to know what it means for you first. Because, I mean — well, we're in England," he joked a little wryly. "And there's all sorts of expectations about it, you know? And I don't expect you to be very English about it, I suppose — but I'd want to know what your expectations are, since we're not... since we hardly know each other, really."

Alfred had slept with people casually before, in his early career as a sailor, but he'd learned early on that when two people came into such an intimate situation with a different set of expectations, it was a recipe for heartbreak, and he wanted to make sure he avoided that, whenever possible. He hadn't done a good job of that with Zelda, and maybe, looking back on it, that was what had gotten them all fucked up — maybe if he'd just not slept with her that night on the Voyager, everything would be different now.

"When I was just a kid — nineteen or twenty, maybe — I slept with this girl I met at a port call in Boston," he explained, glancing down at the neck of his beer bottle. "And after our ship pulled out she wrote me all these letters — I got them for months afterwards. And it wasn't like I was ever coming back to Boston. So — so I know how corsets work," he added jokingly, glancing back up at her. "You can give me a little credit, at least — I'm not that English. I just want to make sure I'm not... doing anything reckless."

  

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

She tried, really she did, to avoid laughing hysterically as he spoke. However, as soon as he mentioned the poor girl in Boston she could resist no longer. Was Alfred genuinely concerned she was going to attempt to leverage this into some sort of relationship? Her? Jo glanced down towards her simple dress with its basic cut and laughed harder. What about her gave him the impression that she was after more than a friendship and occasional lay if it was good? Such was the English way, of course, but she would've thought that he knew differently by now.

"Oh, Merlin." Jo managed as best she could between laughs. Hadn't he lived in South America? Where women walked around topless and were far more liberal with their bodies than any woman on these shores? "No, no. Alfred, no." She swiped the tears forming in her eyes as she struggled to stop giggling. "No. I have no expectations. I don't want a husband or children. No pretty house with brilliant balls and parties." The very thought of her in some puff sleeved dress from hell was nearly enough to send her into hysterics again. Jo raised her beer to her lips and dropped it as she another laugh escaped. "All I want to do is try to guess what tribe you stayed with based off your tattoos."

  

Well, he supposed her laughter meant that his concerns had been unfounded. This was why he had tried to look into her reputation a bit before she'd come over, because he really had no idea what to expect. The fact that she was coming over at all meant that she couldn't have been a traditionalist, which she had just confirmed, but there was still a very wide range that was covered by the term expectations. It wasn't just marriage and children and that sort of thing — it was emotional investment, and sentiment, and a whole host of other things that they still hadn't addressed. The fact that she didn't seem to think that they needed addressing, however, was probably answer enough on that front.

(If she was approaching this so casually, however, the scale might tip in the other direction and a liaison between them might put him at risk of physical consequences rather than emotional ones — but there was no way to know that, because he was certainly not going to ask her if she had any sort of venereal disease that she knew of. Presumably that was the sort of thing that would lead her to stay away from the bedrooms of strange men for a while, if she wasn't getting paid to sleep with them — was that the case? Only prostitutes spread syphilis?)

"You won't be able to guess," he said, setting his beer bottle down on the table so that he could turn his fingers towards the buttons of his shirt. "They're isolated — no one even knew they existed until they found us." Which was sort of obvious, probably. If they'd been a well-known tribe with established contact with the civilized world, Pablo and he wouldn't have stayed there for years before being 'rescued' and returned to England.

  

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

The laughter finally subsided as he set his beer down. Perhaps it was unfair of her to assume he would understand her hatred of commitment simply by a singular conversation and a handful of letters. It wasn't as though a lady in a dress and (messy) bun screamed impropriety. But, she was here, wasn't she? She hadn't balked when he nearly started undressing at the pub. Nothing about her said "yes, please, let me be yours."

Jo watched his hands as they traveled down his shirt. Excitement bubbled within her. "Never know. We've traveled to some pretty remote places." She shrugged and took a sip of her beer. Surprisingly, she was sober for what was about to happen. Never, not once in her weeks of imagining this scenario, had she not finished at least one drink. "What do I win if I guess right?"

  

Alfred rolled his eyes at her teasing boast. Was she seriously trying to outdo him in terms of the most remote place she'd traveled to? He'd wandered the uncharted wilderness in South America for a year before finding any people at all, and the people he found first were cannibals — and the ones after that killed anyone with any trace of magic on sight. The odds that she'd been there were fairly slim — particularly given that she was so much younger than him. He didn't know exactly how old she was or how long she'd been traveling, but even if she'd been going out of her way to go off the beaten path at every opportunity, it didn't seem possible that she'd actually come anywhere close to covering as much ground as he had in more than fifteen years of travel.

"An expedition to the Southern Sea," he joked dryly. "But you're not going to guess."

With that, he finished undoing the buttons and peeled his shirt away, revealing the network of interconnected tattoos stretching from one shoulder to the other across his chest. Every mark had a story behind it, because that was how the tribal system worked — this was a way of keeping track of a person's life, and all of the important things they did during it. During a funeral, the tattoos would be read back to the people of the village as a final biography before the body was burned.

  

---

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

She took one look at the sweeping arches spanning across his chest and knew she hadn't ever come into contact with his tribe. The smaller, scale-like semi-circles were unlike most tattoos she had ever seen. Jo knew enough about tribal tattoos to know each design spoke of an important event. What she didn't know, however, was whether or not each mark was its own story or if the collection of scales was the complete tale.

"They're beautiful." She said honestly, eyes scanning the design constantly instead of looking towards his face. Every time she thought she had discovered all there was to see on the design she noticed a new pattern. A new piece to make sense of on the puzzle. "Can I touch them?" She hadn't forgotten about her guess (or the prize she was to lose) but the urge to trace the lines was overpowering. Guessing could wait.