Half a week it'd been since the business on the train. His crew had had half a week to reckon with the consequences of those events, bodily and mentally, and come out the other side however they were best able. Barnaby had, in his own way, moved on. There wasn't much else he could do. Two of his longest friends were leaving him, his pockets were next to empty, and his confidence was shattered. Tabby had fretted to him about his health and he'd had to extricate himself forcibly from her care with a promise of taking multivitamins and giving up red-meat. But he couldn't stay in a foul mood forever, now could he? That'd nearly killed him, he figured, and in this line of work you had to keep your perspective on the horizon, so to speak.

And so that went likewise for his crew. Was it really so much to ask that everyone be sunshiney and smiling all the live long day? Barnaby didn't think so. Tabby and Rian seemed to be doing alright. He knew each of them better than anyone and he knew they'd come to him if they were in need, though Barnaby made a mental note to check in with them as well. Mona and Riot were leaving and Barnaby, much as he hated to admit it, was avoiding having more than a few minutes conversation with either of them. So that left him with the new folks and he just so happened to find Mattie first.

It was hard to get a read on what her mood was since she came on board, being as nobody knew much about her and couldn't compare a good mood from a bad one. But if Barnaby had to guess, Mattie wasn't always this frowny. He found her where he'd assigned her, in the cargo bay swabbing the deck. No matter what kind of cargo you carried, if it came in boxes, those boxes had grit and grime on them and left it behind for someone to clean up. And that involved a bucket of water and a mop.

So at the stairs leading down the cargo bay he watched her work for a bit and admired her tenacity for the work. She took to it easy and went at it hard. Barnaby descended the stairs and let her notice him so as not to interrupt.

Mattie was happy to have a chore to keep her busy, something to channel her frustration into. Or at least pretend to channel her frustration into; no matter how furiously she scrubbed the deck, the anxious energy bubbling inside her didn't seem to be simmering down one bit, and the task was mostly an excuse to avoid spending time with the rest of the crew. The betrayal in the train, followed by the all too intimate dinner full of dramatic confessions that meant nothing to her... it was all a little too much for Mattie to process right now, and so she did what she always did in times of emotional turmoil, buried everything deep within her and hoped she felt better soon.

She had yet to make the connection between this coping strategy and her increasingly negative outlook on life.

Right now Mattie was focused on scrubbing a patch of dark gunk that appeared to as tenacious as her bad spirits. She stopped when she spotted movement in the corner of her eye, standing up straight and facing the intruder. Her stomach clenched when she locked eyes with the captain, the exact person she'd been hoping to avoid. Well, in addition to pretty much everyone else on the crew.

"Oh, hey, Boss." He'd asked her to call him Barnaby, but she was finding it difficult to honor his request. There was always a very specific chain of command on a ship, and Mattie knew her place in it. It was not being on a first name basis with the captain, especially not one she'd only recently started to work for.

"I don't think that's comin' off." She gestured towards the discolored patch on the floor with her mop, hoping against hope that he was just here to check up on how the deck-swabbing operation was coming along.

Barnaby came closer and looked at where Mattie was working and shook his head. That damned spot. He'd been trying to get that up for years but it was a persistent bugger. A leftover of a spill from long ago, a combination of battery acid and hard coated plastic that had melted and coalesced into the mess that was at their feet. "Aw sorry 'bout that, Mattie." Barnaby said, rubbing at the back of his head. "That ones stubborn as a blind mule. Been workin' at it since 'fore you could walk, I reckon. Shoulda said so." There were a lot of things that he should've said.

"Appreciate your effort, though." Just get to it already, old man. "Um. Well. Reason I came to find you, is I figure we should have ourselves a little talk." A lump formed in his throat, a small one, but he still needed to cough to get it out. It wasn't that it was hard for him to apologize, but talking about his failings with someone he didn't know too well... that he wasn't good at. "You and I stood and joined hands and then I wasn't honest with you. For that I'm sorry. I ain't gonna excuse it 'cept to say it felt like the right move at the time. Maybe I was wrong. Likely so. Can't change it but, cross my heart, I won't take it so lightly next time. Got my oath on that."

He held out a calloused hand for hers. "I'm glad you're here."

Mattie stared at the captain's outstretched hand, her grip on the mop handle tightening. He was offering her a genuine apology, something that could be a rare commodity in the Black. She knew in her heart of hearts that he didn't deserve to be resented and chewed out, and yet she found herself unable to let go of the matter that easily.

"Y'know, I didn't exactly like working for Tate, but I still ain't in the habit of turnin' my coat in the middle of a job. Reckon I put a target on my back by doin' that. And my pal Murphy's back, too. He's the one who referred me to Tate, pulled a bunch of strings to get me hired. Had to make himself scarce awful quick after I pushed my co-worker off a mule."

Murphy had been planning on leaving Aphrodite for a while now, but Mattie had no doubt that him moving the date of his departure up by several weeks had something to do with the friend he'd so highly recommended to the local sovereign's security staff stabbing them in the back first chance she got.

"And Rian's lucky I did, too, 'cause you know full well he woulda gotten himself killed with that stupid mule-hopping stunt he pulled if it weren't for me. And I had to babysit his pì gu all the way to the orbit to make sure he didn't bleed out before gettin' there!"

Her speech, which had started out relatively calm (if obviously seething under the surface), gradually picked up speed and volume as she went on. By the point she got to ranting about Rian she realized what was happening and took it down a notch. Her final words sounded more dejected than angry.

"I didn't do all that to be left out of the loop in front of Abernathy and a bunch of purplebellies."

Her tirade over, Mattie averted her gaze and stared at the floor, biting the inside of her cheek. Right, one of those purplebellies had been his former spouse or something. That just added insult to the injury of her bleeding browncoat heart.

Barnaby folded his hand when it seemed Mattie wouldn't be taking it and, instead, listened to what she had to say. Maybe she just needed to vent a bit, let out some steam. That was healthy and Barnaby was ready to let her do that as much as she needed. It was difficult not to absorb her stress but strangely the captain felt a bit of calm in the last couple of days. His panicked responses to the events on Aphrodite had flowed and now they ebbed. As was the nature of such things. And so, as she yelled at him, Barnaby was able to more clearly process her words and see them for what they were.

Mattie was right, of course. He had made mistakes. Mistakes that he owned up to. Mistakes he'd have to live with. But you can't dwell on them forever and Barnaby had to make sure his crew was safe, which, by his estimation, he'd done. Targets on backs didn't come bigger than the one on his, and keeping everyone in the dark made sure of that. Could he explain that to Mattie? Probably, but he didn't come to find her to try and win a fight. He came to apologize. "If you're sore about it, I get it, but I ain't gonna beg your forgiveness. I said my piece. If you feel like you can't stay on, we can drop you at Iscariot station."

He turned to go, but stopped short. "I hope you stay. You're brave and honest and true, and those are my three favorite qualities in a person." He turned and took the stairs back up, a lifetime of walking them making his boots heavy, adding as he went. "Deck looks good. You can call it, if you like."