<span style="font-family:Spectral">She'd struck a cord with the captain. She didn't even know his name or what to call him by, and she'd already gotten him angry. Her words had slipped, she hadn't thought about what she'd said until he addressed Tim. Joanna didn't dare look around for Tim and offer an apologetic look; he was probably already getting glares from the rest of the men. He didn't need more attention.<br/>
<br/>
Part of Joanna wanted to act sensible, polite, and leave the captain to the rest of his meal, but another begged to push the man further, to question his authority. She knew neither would gain favor; He'd still view her a weak-willed woman with no respect to him. Joanna made a note to watch what she said on further conversations with him, and possibly, everyone else. Even Tim. No matter how kind and gentlemanly he may sound, perhaps it was best not to get him involved than he already had. It frustrated her that the captain believed the cell would help mitigate the risks of being touched, raped, whatever he wanted to refer to it as.<br/>
<br/>
By the looks of the crew, they would find a way around his damn rules, no matter what. One thing truly bothered her though, and she would make a point of it before Ellen and her retired for the night. She'd lost her appetite already; whether it be by the insults he threw at her face, obviously aimed at her sister, or the fact that she immediately believed she understood now that he was feared, even by his own men. Joanna stood up and gazed down at the captain, steely eyes challenging him, although her fear of the man showed clearly. <br/>
<br/>
"She will never," Joanna placed emphasis on the word 'never' as she raised her voice, although it was quite clear she struggled to regain herself and speak properly. "-become a liability to me <i>or</i> your men. Is <i>that</i> understood?"<br/>
<br/>
Joanna didn't wait for the captain to speak. She wouldn't be harrassed, she wouldn't allow these damn men to treat them like dogs. Joanna didn't care how much hell she was given, beaten or touched inappropriately, so long as her sister was safe. Ellen immediately followed Joanna out of the dining area. The crew was deathly silent. A small shove at Ellen's back was a prompt, non-verbal cue to move along as quickly as she could back to their room. Joanna’s knuckles turned white from a fierce rage she felt within the pit of her stomach. It was bubbling, dying to be free of its gilded cage. </span>