This is written for a challenge on the LJ group musesstewpot run by a friend of mine. The challenge was that someone was getting cold feet, and my brain took a left turn and went running. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates, nor am I making any money off this.
Jack was not sure what he was doing in England. Sure the crew had been quite enthusiastic about the higher profit to be found from selling their latest haul in Europe, and they were fairly close in the over all scheme of things … but Jack hated England. It was too bloody cold for one thing. Every time he got too close to England his toes would go numb, and stay that way until he got out of range. It was as though the whole island sucked the warmth from his bones.
But here he was in England, walking down the dock to join his crew in the nearest tavern, his poor Pearl behind him looking quite uncomfortable with white sails so as not to tempt fate. And true to form his feet were freezing. Not even the though of all that lovely gold they had collected made the captain feel any better.
However, upon entering the tavern he saw the perfect thing. He rousted the sleeping inhabitant of the chair nearest to the hearth and commandeered it for himself. Ten minutes later he was almost pleased to be in England with his mug of mulled mead and his toes were thawing out mere inches from the fire. What marvelous creatures, he thought as he grinned at the salamander dancing with the flames.