The interior of Hell's Gate was surprisingly high end-- all hardwood floors and wrought iron railings. All of which Jacee had painstakingly refinished and welded herself. The main area boasted a few chairs and a squishy loveseat around a small coffee table, and to the left of that was a small kitchenette. Past the kitchenette was the door to the engine room, where she had spent most of her evening patch-repairing the engine. To the right of the sitting area was the bridge room where Jacee spent all of her time at the helm, attempting to navigate and getting impressively lost in the process. On either side of the main sitting area was a hand-welded iron stairwell, leading to the upper level. The upper level was mostly an open stardeck, as Jacee loved the stars, and to either side of the deck were two rooms. Jacee had spent the majority of the five years between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one designing and building this ship, and on the night of her twenty-first birthday, she fled the estate she'd been raised on.<br/><br/>Presently, Ms Allen was seated in one of the chairs in the sitting room, playing her violin. A glass of brandy sat on the coffee table, half-drank and forgotten. Jacee was in her own little world, where only the music mattered. She owed much to the worn little instrument in her hands. It was thanks to her great skill with the violin that she was able to fund the building of Hell's Gate, and every time she played, she was reminded of all her hard work. The one thing Jacee Allen valued more than anything was her freedom. Perhaps that was why she'd bolted on that man in the tavern-- obviously he was lying, and any threat to her freedom had Jacee on the defense. She'd worked too hard, and endured too much, to be captured now. Besides, if anyone ever found out about the king's ransom she had on her head for her return to her Auntie Jane, it would be all over.<br/><br/>Jacee's fingers moved slowly as she played a slow, mournful piece, eyes closed, expression thoughtful. In all honesty, she wasn't even sure why Auntie Jane wanted her to come back so badly. It certainly wasn't out of concern for Jacee's safety, as she'd had the estate guards try to shoot her out of the sky the night of her escape. More likely, she wanted at least some sort of dowry for Jacee's hand, though Auntie Jane had stated many times that the girl wasn't worth the dresses she wore.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Awful witch... Evil, vile hag...</span><br/><br/>In time with her change in mood, Jacee began a very fast, very difficult classical piece that was ninety percent arpeggio sixteenth notes, and very discordant. She didn't care. Discordant was a good way to describe her entire day.