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Antony didn't notice Stewart, more worried about the new wounds in her shoulder as well as the far off cries of Jamal. Hopefully he didn't meet their trap, or Ambrose.

Her gaze tore from the jungle as she fixed it on her bloodied shoulder, in a sort of daze, and still slightly shocked.

Whirling around at the voice, Antony cringed at the pain that shot through her shoulder, up through her chest, and then down through her fingertips. It took her a second to recognize the man in a... Skirt, but she relaxed visibly when she saw that it wasn't Jamal back to tear her a new one.

She opened her mouth to answer the question, but couldn't come up with much to say. Instead, she simply glanced back down to the wounds.

Antony debated retorting back towards Stewart about his comment being obvious knowledge, but she simply sighed. Reaching for the shirt she had been using to cool down Jamal's fever earlier, Antony absently dabbed her shirt on the open wounds, hissing audibly. It didn't bother her that she was shirtless at all.

Letting the hand with her shirt fall, she glanced over towards the ocean first and then the stowed away alcohol. "You're right," she murmured softly, and she immediately stood and kicked off her shoes and socks before unbuckling her belt and pushing down her pants.

She glanced at Stewart silently before heading towards the ocean, not at all ashamed that she was only in her skivvies in front of a priest.

His verbal prayer caused her to stop midstep and turn around, eyes narrowing with irritation. "Excuse me?! Did you just call me Satan?!" Antony hissed, violet eyes boring through the priest's own.

Like hell she was going to stand for being called 'satan' for not wearing all her dry clothes into the ocean.

"Moreau's just a twisted, sadistic b*****d. Nothing more, and nothing less." She said with a frown, irritated that Stewart was giving Moreau so much power by pretty much calling Carrot Top God's match. Not that she believed in one god, but it was the principle of the thing.

And then he presented a challenge. "And what do you desire most?" Antony murmured, taking a step or two towards him.

Her throbbing shoulder was put on hold for now.

"Emily Rose's heart was not black," Antony murmured in a lower voice, and stepped towards him slowly, as not to spook him. Granted, she had only seen the Emily Rose movie, but the possessing comment made her think of it.

But on to more important things.

Her eyebrow arched as her lip curled in a slight smirk. She was able to pick up what he was going to say next, and when a blush was added, Antony was positive of what he had been going to say.

"Really?" She said softly, taking advantage of him glancing away to close the distance between them both. Without delay, Antony ignored the pain in her shoulder as she reached her hand out to turn his face back to her own, and before he could protest, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

Considering how jittery he was, the tattooed woman decided to keep the kiss rather tender and sweet. Anything else and he may run away screaming. He had to like kissing first, and thankfully, that was one of Antony's many talents.

She was surprised that he didn't pull away, but when he didn't, Antony lightly cupped his jaw and deepened the kiss only slightly. Her other hand went to rest lightly on his hip, pulling him to her slowly. Antony didn't push him, knowing that she couldn't approach him the same way she did Jamal.

This was a more delicate situation.

Antony was encouraged by his hands wrapping around her waist, and she leaned up against him. It wasn't long before she slowed down her pace and pulled back with a few shorter kisses. A smile came to her lips, her eyes cracking open, but only enough so that they were slits.