Rue gazed out at the scene before her. It was the same as any other night; some men were joyfully gulping down their mead and singing drunkenly at the top of their lungs, others were hovering over each other, menacing looks in their eyes, moments away from a fight, and still others sat by themselves, slowly sipping their drink. It was these men Rue felt the most sympathy for. She'd seen them whisk away tears, mumble tales of lost loves when they thought no one was listening. Rue always made sure their drinks were switched over to water after awhile; they were always too drunk to notice.

Tonight however, Rue felt a change in the air. The birds had gone to bed early, the seas were restless, as if waiting for something…or someone. Even the wind had changed. Rue had sensed these changes before. They came about occasionally, always bringing about the same result: Jack Sparrow had returned to Tortuga.