Tia Dalma lifted the candle higher. "You have so many already."
Jack was sitting with his back to her, so he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Savored the lilting sound of her voice. Like the sea. Up, down, up, down. Beautiful. Melodic.
He opened his eyes. "Ah, but I don't have one from you."
She sat in front of him, wax dripping from the candle onto her hand. She didn't even seem to notice. Magic. Probably doesn't feel pain, he mused.
"But what will the tattoo be of?" she asked.
"You tell me." He felt the strangest sensation when he was with her. Like she knew everything he was thinking. Like she could see straight through him. It intrigued and terrified him at the same time.
She reached up and touched the bare skin of his bicep. He shivered. Her fingers were as cold as ice. "Here?"
"Why not?"
"Why did you come to see me, Jack?" she asked suddenly, her gaze swinging to his. "Hmm?"
"I missed the presence of your company."
"Lies." She clucked her tongue. "You must be running from a woman." She passed him a glass of wine and he obligingly took a sip. "Tell me."
"Not running. It's just..."
Her eyes held him in place. No lies.
"It's just over."
"Why?"
"Because I made it that way."
She placed a hand gently over his eyes. "Close your eyes. I will do it for you."
"What are you going to draw?"
"Keep your eyes closed. You'll see."
When the tattoo was over, Jack opened his eyes. Looked down at his wrist.
On his wrist, under the small braid of lace that reminded him of Angelica, was now a small A. He ran his fingers over it, his brow furrowed.
"You can't ever escape her, Jack. You might as well carry her on your skin."
He didn't argue. He couldn't. All he could do was shove his feelings back down again.
"I'm going to need that whole bottle of wine."