How strange it felt to be walking next to this woman that acted like anything but.  She dressed like a man, and even walked like one too, though the way she leered and leaned so far forward was more reminiscent to a boy to Amelia.

And still, the top of her shirt was unbuttoned and exposing more of her chest than Amelia would be caught dead showing.

Disgraceful!

More than that, she really did own a ship.  Or claimed to.  Yet again, Amelia was concerned for her head.

"I stay in a little place with my father," Amelia answered honestly.  "It's close to St. Hilda's, and it's a very cozy little accommodation.  Very nice for the two of us."

Amelia's voice was pleasantly neutral, though underneath it she felt an intense longing to move out.  Not because her father was bad - quite the opposite, as her father was a lovely man - but Amelia was getting old.  She knew she was well past her prime, and every year that passed was another that made her more undesirable to men.

If she waited much longer to settle down and be married, she might not even be able to have children.  And what a terrible fate that would be; to grow old and die in the same house as her father, never having found love or made anything of herself.  No family so speak of or remember her save for the one she was born into.

"Um, your ship," Amelia said to distract herself.  "Do you really - own it yourself?  Or..."

She hadn't seen a ring on the other woman's hands, though to glance back now to check would be rude.  And how upset Amelia would be, if this woman had managed to be married before her.