Freyja was careful to transport herself to a suitable corner where she would not be seen, knowing how reactive mortals of the period could get about those who use supernatural abilities. She'd had her share of negative experiences in the 18th century, and did not intend to repeat them. She raised the hood of her eagle feather cloak, going to greet James where she saw him standing, adjusting his coat. She could not hide a smile at the fuss.

"Commodore," she greeted in a voice that held a sort of power and purpose in its ring. "Lovely night. I had forgotten how I enjoy the Southern islands."