Chapter Text
The Blood King is not a place for ladies.
There are women there, sure enough, but mostly they're the sort willing to laugh and sit with a certain type of sailor in trade for a handful of gold and a drink. Lauren is an exception, and the privilege of sitting in her corner booth for a quiet drink ashore has been a hard-earned one. So she notices, the night that a new woman walks in, companion at her side, and asks the bartender for a drink like she's entitled to it.
It has nothing to do with the fact that the woman is one of the most beautiful Lauren has ever laid eyes on.
Rather, Lauren notices the fact that this new woman wears a man's trousers and boots, a man's vest and shirt. She also notes the way that the latter is pulled tight across a woman's chest, and that the shirt hangs low and open in front to expose the swell of her breasts. Her hair flows down her back, heavy dark curls spilling from underneath her hat. Lauren can just imagine that hair fluttering against the woman's face, tossed about by ocean winds, and the thought makes her palms itch.
The woman also has a cutlass, blade clean and well-tended, the leather around the hilt worn dark from a lifetime of use. A pistol bumps gently against her thigh, a common enough sight at an alehouse like the Blood King, but rare for a woman. In short, she looks like a proper pirate, and her forearms, dark from the sun and ink, confirm it.
Lauren slouches down in her seat, letting her legs splay wide beneath the table. The man beside her leans close. "Now there's a pretty one," he mumbles, quietly enough that it's for her ears alone against the din of the tavern.
"Aye," she murmurs, heartfelt. "Too bad she's a pirate."
"Of course. Too bad," Dyson says, making a face at her over the edge of his tankard.
Lauren scowls into the bottom of her own, refusing to be goaded. She's a privateer, with a legitimate letter of marque tucked into her coat pocket above her heart. That means something.
The woman - the pirate - has a companion with her, a girl. She barely looks of age, a child's face against a short, light body, but she speaks with the taller woman like an equal, and the rings bright on every finger, the blood-red scarf around her head, make Lauren wonder if that body is stronger than it seems. "I've heard talk about her," Dyson says to his drink, voice rumbling low. "The dread pirate Bo and her mate Kenzi. The way the stories go, they've been pillaging their way from Campeche to Curaçao, the new terror of the New World."
Lauren huffs. "There's not a sailor here who can't be said to have done the same."
"They say her beauty is so great that men will fall to their knees at the sight of her. That towns will sack themselves before she ever has to draw steel."
The woman smiles at her companion, and for a moment, Lauren understands the stories. "Good thing I'm not a man, then."
Dyson's chuckle is knowing as he says, "Good thing."
"Have you seen to the new supplies?" Lauren says, gruffly. It's a change of subject, and a pointed one at that. Dyson rolls his eyes, but he lets the matter rest.
They discuss the affairs that need to be in order before they can set sail the morning after tomorrow - orders from the governor, supplies for the men and repairs to the aft gun ports. All the while, Lauren can't help but notice that woman - Bo - across the room. Her beauty is distracting, and as Lauren makes plans for the morning, she can't help but be struck by the way Bo's eyes light up when she laughs with her first mate, the way the men and women clustered around them - her crew, like as not - listen to her intently and with respect.
Once or twice, Bo even looks over at Lauren, and Lauren gets the uncomfortable sense that she's being caught staring.
"It's late," Dyson says, following Lauren's line of sight with his own. "I'm going to head back to the Caduceus for some rest. You coming?"
Bo turns away from the bar, leaning back against the polished wood, and catches Lauren's eye. Their gazes meet, and Bo raises her tankard in a silent toast. Something in Lauren's chest flutters. "No," she says. "I'll be along in a while."
Dyson claps her on the shoulder, a silent agreement, and leaves. Bo pushes off from the bar, and her hips sway as she walks closer. Lauren can't help but be mesmerized. She takes a long swallow of ale, trying to focus on the taste of the alcohol rather than the woman - the pirate - approaching.
Bo comes to a stop at the edge of Lauren's table. "You're new," she says, sliding into Dyson's vacant seat.
"You're mistaken."
Bo shakes her head, and edges her chair nearer to Lauren's. She sits like a man, knees spread apart, and one of them bumps against Lauren's as she leans in close enough to be herself heard. Every time their knees touch, Lauren has to hold back a shiver.
"I'm sure I haven't seen you here before," Bo says. It's a statement asking for an introduction. She smiles, like she actually expects Lauren to give one that easily.
"That you haven't," Lauren says, grip steady on her tankard.
"Is this your first time, then?" Bo means at this tavern, Lauren's sure, but her eyes imply so many other things that Lauren feels her cheeks grow warm.
"Shouldn't I be asking you the same question?"
Bo feigns confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I thought pirates preferred the company of each other, at the Morrigan."
Bo's smile widens. "I happen to enjoy the company of privateers. There's no rule that says I must choose, is there?"
"I suppose not," Lauren says.
"So this certainly isn't your first time here, then," Bo says, repeating herself.
"Not by a long shot."
Bo rests her drink on the table, and leans to give Lauren a long, searching look, from top to bottom. It looks rehearsed, as though Lauren isn't the first woman Bo's done this with, but it makes her feel as vulnerable as if it weren't. "I've been looking at you, and trying to figure out what a woman like yourself would be doing in a place like this."
"And?" Lauren asks. "What do you think?"
"Not whoring."
Lauren grins. "No, not that."
"Which is a shame. There isn't a man in here who wouldn't kill his own crewmate just to have you on his lap."
"Too bad I'm not that sort of woman."
"No, I didn't think you were."
"What about you?"
Bo's smile shows all her teeth. Lauren finds herself leaning towards it, despite herself. "What about me?"
"You don't seem like that sort of woman, either."
She shrugs. "I'm Bo."
"Just Bo?" Lauren says, taking care to seem as wide-eyed as possible.
Bo bows her head, tipping her hat the barest amount. "Captain Bo," she says, emphasizing the title. Lauren never has met a pirate who could resist stroking their own ego. "Perhaps you've heard of me."
"Aye, that I have."
"And?" Bo leans in. This near, her shoulder is pressed up against Lauren's, and Lauren can feel the heat of her. She's dizzy, and it's hard to tell if it's from Trick's swill or having Bo so close. "Fair's fair, love. I told you my name, time to tell me yours."
"Lewis," she says, struggling to keep her voice even. "Perhaps you've heard of me?"
"I haven't," Bo says. There's an excellent chance she's lying. "But if you're looking to turn pirate, I'd be happy to hear a lot more."
Lauren shakes her head. "Flattered as I am for the offer, I'm not."
She moves to take another drink. Halfway there, Bo's hand flies up to catch her mug, and pushes it back towards the table. She's strong, even stronger than Lauren expected, and Lauren lets her arm go slack in response. Her tankard hits the tabletop with a hollow sound, and Bo chuckles, like she really thinks Lauren's been overpowered. Her free arm finds its way across Lauren's shoulders, hugging her close, and Lauren's suddenly overwhelmed by how lovely she is, pretty as a picture and twice as alluring. This near, Lauren can't help but notice the kohl around her eyes, smudged fetchingly, and hear the jingle of her earrings. Despite herself, she starts to feel breathless.
Of course, Lauren isn't quite smitten enough to keep from noticing the fact that in this position, Bo's got her hand on Lauren's sword arm, palm resting on the muscles that Lauren would tense if she were planning anything untoward. It's a smart move.
"Don't tell me you're not tempted," Bo whispers, breath tickling Lauren's ear.
Lauren manages not to shiver, and forces a smile. "Tempted doesn't mean I plan to run away with you, Captain."
Bo chuckles, and breathes in as though she's about to say more.
Just then, Dyson clatters into the bar, sword drawn, cheeks red with exertion. "Captain!" he shouts, not caring that half the room turns his way. "Pirates! They're trying to take the ship!"
Lauren swears, looking around. That girl, Kenzi, is nowhere to be seen, and the other faces she recalls seeing near the pair of them are gone. She swears again. Bo chuckles, holding Lauren so tightly that she can feel her laugh against her side.
Lauren jerks forward, trying to break free. Bo's arm tenses, holding her down. "I meant what I said, Captain Lewis. If you're ever in the market for something a little more interesting."
She's not, and she won't be, but her ship is being overrun by Bo's crew of lawless cutthroats and she doesn't have the time to dignify that with a reply. She draws her tankard arm forward and shoves it back, hard, until she feels her elbow make satisfying contact with Bo's middle. Bo's grip on her sword arm weakens, giving Lauren just enough room to squirm out of her grasp and stand, the table turning over with a clatter.
She runs headlong for the door, for Dyson, for the ship, and doesn't look back.