Corvo Attano
It's weird. In her head, there are two distinctly different Corvos: the one when she was Billie—for whom she feels an emotion best summed up as 'that poor bastard,' and the Corvo she knew as Meagan, far more personally.
The Corvo of Jessamine's reign? A stranger, of no consequence beyond making certain the threat he posed was neutralised. The Corvo who ran bloody murder down palisades to the harbour and dragged himself onto her boat like something out of a void tale?
For him, she feels a fondness she's scared to admit to. He fixed up the Wale for her. Woke screaming from nightmares. Clutched a throbbing nightmare in his hands on her deck and whispered to it like a lover.
He reminds her of Daud, a little, though she'd sooner die than say.
She wants his good opinion, in the part of her heart not yet closed off to friendship; can't stomp it out even knowing she should.
"He's alright, I think. Devil with a sword. Not much more to it, really."