For Sara
"We oughta slit his slimy throat, cap'n, before he can shout fer them murderin' buckos o' his!" Sanchez shouted up to quarter deck, pressing his knife firmly against the strangers neck, a small bead of crimson erupting from beneath the edge of the blade.
"Quiet ye dirty bilge rat! Or ye'll be seeing Davy Jones' locker before ye can shout!" the captain bit back sharply. Sanchez bowed his head in submission and glared at the stranger out of the corner of his eye.
Captain Raydor smirked and walked gracefully down to the main deck, the high, spiked heels of her boots clicking on the wooden stairs as she walked. She paused in front of Sanchez and arched a delicate eyebrow at the knife that was still cutting into the intruders skin. Sanchez curled his lip but drew the blade away at his captain's withering glare.
The silver-haired man grinned at Raydor. "When was th' last hour we saw each other?" he asked her.
Raydor shifted her weight and lightly laid her hands on her corseted waist. "Aye, tis been a few years. As I recall, ye were stealin' from me, Flynn."
Flynn chuckled. "I reckon we remember that day differently."
"I bet ye do." Sharon smiled.
"Ye had a gun to me head." he retorted.
"It wouldn'ta been needed if ye hadn't tried to pillage me ruby." Her hand drifted to the red jewel that was hanging on a long golden chain between her bosoms.
"I reckon we remember that differently too." Sharon laughed throatily and reached to take Sanchez's blade from him. She smirked at Flynn and cut the ropes that were binding his hands. She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and roughly grabbed his torn collar.
"No we don't." she murmured as he covered her lips with his own.