He was a straggly young man with an apple in his hand and a jagged smirk of someone who was lost inside their own private thoughts and not likely to submerge anytime soon. The structure pole he leaned, no, lounged against was thin, dark, and chipped; much like his own skeletal body; his fingers drummed the woodwork with a nervous energy. He stared down at the apple as if the livid green flesh held the answer to salvation itself. One black sooty foot was crossed over the other, toe nails yellow and cracked.
"You there... boy." A voice inquired from a distance; accent so foreign and direct that he had no choice but to break away from his previous thoughts and look up; milky sapphire and emerald eyes bright with perhaps surprise... or madness.
He was surprised, shocked even, to see a young woman in a blooming yellow dress standing alone on the head of the port, gloved hands tucked neatly against her waist... addressing him.
A thin eyebrow raised, no further sign of acknowledgement was given.
The woman neither seemed put off by his indifference, his cat-like eyes, or his scruffy appearance. She just continued to glare until finally time took its toll on the couple and she released an annoyed huff. "Are you deaf or just mad, don't you know you address a lady when one has spoken to you?"
Cat eyes lowered to the white curve of her neck, the amble cups of her breast.
"Boy, do you speak English?"
The large bulge of her purse.
"Boy."
A ravishing young lady, a governor's daughter no doubt. Refined and without an escort.
He suspiciously looked around for any sign of the harbor's red coats.
"Boy!"
"Aye! What do you want, you banshee?" He swung carelessly around the pool, one foot dragging on the sharp cobblestone. "The asking price is five shillings, but I reckon you carry more than that so I would ask for seven," He paused, swinging to and fro thoughtfully, face curving into an impish smile, "but then," he charged with a shrug, "I would also reckon you're want for more refined pray and thus feel inclined to lower the price to six." That price seemed to satisfy his own mind and he gave a quick jerky nod, the motion causing his dark, straggly hair to fall around his face, "Yes, six shillings. Six shillings and for one hour I will submit my body to you both spiritually... physically... and biblically."
The woman gazed back at the teenager with a look of pale horror. Her rose colored mouth hung open limply, clamped shut, than slacked again. A flash of scarlet flushed her cheeks and she began to tremble with a hysteric rage. "Why... I... I NEVER!!"
The boy raised one finger into the air and cheerfully replied, "And I never bedded with a blue blood before. Well, a female one in any case. It will be a new and insightful experience for us both!"
The woman screamed and the boy fell backwards to the ground in fright.
"I...I..." She stammered, a broken record. "I NEVER!! When my daddy hears about the obscene... IMMORALIZED... behavior of New Townport's luggage handlers... he will... he will have you, he will!"
The boy sat up and blinked, "Oh, you think I'm a baggage handler!"
He immediately leapt to his feet and trotted to the distraught woman's side, who at first shrank away in horror, but then, upon seeing his raised hands and charming apologetic style allowed him to wrap his fingers around his gloves and offer his grievous apologizes.
"A thousand pardons for this terrible mistake, my fair and unspoiled mistress, I hadn't the slightly you fathomed me as a mere baggage handler, and I do feel simply awful about your misconception, and my misconception, and this entire situations misconception... for you see..."
She smiled nervously, still fearing something was right, "Yes, well..."
"I'm not a baggage handler at all," he pressed, then stepped away. "I'm a pick pocket."
The dark haired youth twirled the chain of her coat purse around his finger and took towards the alley.
The woman screamed with rage, tone once again able to stop him in his tracks. He paused by the structure pole and swung his body around it one more time, grin wild, waving the purse around more forcefully now.
"I'm sorry for the deception, fair lady!" He shouted as she began to scream for red coats. A troop did arrive from the west port, no doubt coming back to carry off the luggage she must have originally been insinuating he would handle.
He gazed at the troop with excitement.
"But worry not, my flower!"
She stared.
"For you will always remember this as the day that you met Jack Sparrow!"
And with those words the fifteen-year-old disappeared.
"You there... boy." A voice inquired from a distance; accent so foreign and direct that he had no choice but to break away from his previous thoughts and look up; milky sapphire and emerald eyes bright with perhaps surprise... or madness.
He was surprised, shocked even, to see a young woman in a blooming yellow dress standing alone on the head of the port, gloved hands tucked neatly against her waist... addressing him.
A thin eyebrow raised, no further sign of acknowledgement was given.
The woman neither seemed put off by his indifference, his cat-like eyes, or his scruffy appearance. She just continued to glare until finally time took its toll on the couple and she released an annoyed huff. "Are you deaf or just mad, don't you know you address a lady when one has spoken to you?"
Cat eyes lowered to the white curve of her neck, the amble cups of her breast.
"Boy, do you speak English?"
The large bulge of her purse.
"Boy."
A ravishing young lady, a governor's daughter no doubt. Refined and without an escort.
He suspiciously looked around for any sign of the harbor's red coats.
"Boy!"
"Aye! What do you want, you banshee?" He swung carelessly around the pool, one foot dragging on the sharp cobblestone. "The asking price is five shillings, but I reckon you carry more than that so I would ask for seven," He paused, swinging to and fro thoughtfully, face curving into an impish smile, "but then," he charged with a shrug, "I would also reckon you're want for more refined pray and thus feel inclined to lower the price to six." That price seemed to satisfy his own mind and he gave a quick jerky nod, the motion causing his dark, straggly hair to fall around his face, "Yes, six shillings. Six shillings and for one hour I will submit my body to you both spiritually... physically... and biblically."
The woman gazed back at the teenager with a look of pale horror. Her rose colored mouth hung open limply, clamped shut, than slacked again. A flash of scarlet flushed her cheeks and she began to tremble with a hysteric rage. "Why... I... I NEVER!!"
The boy raised one finger into the air and cheerfully replied, "And I never bedded with a blue blood before. Well, a female one in any case. It will be a new and insightful experience for us both!"
The woman screamed and the boy fell backwards to the ground in fright.
"I...I..." She stammered, a broken record. "I NEVER!! When my daddy hears about the obscene... IMMORALIZED... behavior of New Townport's luggage handlers... he will... he will have you, he will!"
The boy sat up and blinked, "Oh, you think I'm a baggage handler!"
He immediately leapt to his feet and trotted to the distraught woman's side, who at first shrank away in horror, but then, upon seeing his raised hands and charming apologetic style allowed him to wrap his fingers around his gloves and offer his grievous apologizes.
"A thousand pardons for this terrible mistake, my fair and unspoiled mistress, I hadn't the slightly you fathomed me as a mere baggage handler, and I do feel simply awful about your misconception, and my misconception, and this entire situations misconception... for you see..."
She smiled nervously, still fearing something was right, "Yes, well..."
"I'm not a baggage handler at all," he pressed, then stepped away. "I'm a pick pocket."
The dark haired youth twirled the chain of her coat purse around his finger and took towards the alley.
The woman screamed with rage, tone once again able to stop him in his tracks. He paused by the structure pole and swung his body around it one more time, grin wild, waving the purse around more forcefully now.
"I'm sorry for the deception, fair lady!" He shouted as she began to scream for red coats. A troop did arrive from the west port, no doubt coming back to carry off the luggage she must have originally been insinuating he would handle.
He gazed at the troop with excitement.
"But worry not, my flower!"
She stared.
"For you will always remember this as the day that you met Jack Sparrow!"
And with those words the fifteen-year-old disappeared.