"Do you love Grace O’Malley?" The question was blurted out by Caer.

Dunar set down his glass of rum and looked intently at the young woman. “Love?” He questioned with a slur. “Do I love Grace?” He picked up the glass of rum and finished it off. “Let me tell ye, lil’ lady.” Dunar straightened up in his seat. “I respect Grace, as does the rest of the crew.”

“But do you love her?” Caer questioned again.

Dunar slammed the glass to the table. “I respect her!” He shouted. The he returned to a calmer voice. “I believe it be yer turn lass. Truth er dare?”

“Dare.” Caer responded quickly.

“No, no. Ye said yerself that no one chooses dare first, so it be truth.” Caer gulped anticipating the question. “How be it that you know thee man in thee box?”

Caer took another shot with almost a nervous response to the question. She took a look at the empty glass and smiled to herself. “This rum isn’t bad after all, Captain.”

“Aye, I only bring the finest rum aboard when I sail. I won’t even drink the garbage we.... acquire out at sea. No one seems to carry the good stuff.” Dunar starts on another glass of rum. He stops in mid-drink, and glares at Caer. “Didn’t I...? Wait.” He says scratching his head. “Oh yes, the man in the box. Tell me ‘bout him lass.”