it's just a bloodstain

marked me like a bloodstain

Where Flora's familial situation when she was younger hadn't been the easiest, she knew that she wasn't as hard done by as others. It wouldn't have surprised her in the least to learn that Jack had been the child of some brutal rape, left abandoned and made to fend for himself, and so instead of arguing, she merely leaned slightly into the tug of his fingers in her hair. "What about when you were a boy? You never had a crush on, I don't know, the local baker or one of the girls at the Haulani?"

Upstairs, indeed she did assume he was going to throw the shirt away, to wonder why she'd be so gentle with it when presumably the wearer had caused her so much harm. That he only handed her a hanger made her wonder if the gesture was because he understood, or simply because he knew that she'd call him on it if whatever he said was a lie. Not bothering to cover herself or act shy as she peeled off the shirt—they were past the point where even pretending to be coy about nudity would be tiresome—Flora smiled wordlessly at him as she hung it on the hanger before going into her ensuite to wash the mascara from her face.

"I'd say make yourself at home, but..." She calls, shrugging slightly. Something told her all the crisp white linens and carefully chosen artefacts would probably give the captain as much of a headache as her thoughts would.