Chapter 2 – A day of hangovers and sexual innuendo.

She wasn't sure quite how long she'd been out, but when Jezebel Cassandra Molko (Soho or Electro to anyone she happened to meet) woke up, she most certainly wasn't where she had last been.

The man who she'd had the pleasure of observing from behind, making a note in her mind to thank the lord for tattooed men, was not her male best friend to her knowledge, and her surroundings were not a beaten up convertible, but in fact some sort of cabin. This was very odd.

Shit, her best friend. If she had ended up in these strange circumstances, surely he would have too. And she had best find him, and ask why the hell they had ended up here…and not dead, as she remembered thinking prior to this whole ordeal.

Once she had alerted the two men to her presence, with what she thought to be a very simple question of "where the fuck am I?"; Soho was bewildered to find that the look they both gave her was as if she had grown a third head, or even a second. She felt for one – finding only her long blue and blonde hair, if rather messy, but all on one head.

"Right, if you're not going to give me an answer, I'll find out for myself."

Swinging her legs over the side of the mattress she had found herself placed so nicely, Soho swaggered out of the cabin, making sure to put that unnecessary hip wiggle in. After all, she thought, she was in fairly attractive company.

The sight that met her eyes when she opened the wooden door was not one she had really been expecting to say the least. Having felt a slight movement when she had been lying down, Soho had put it all down to the hangover she'd woken up with, but NO. She was on a ship. And it was moving. And there were lots of sweaty, unwashed men gawping at her.

Further panicking thoughts were silenced by a general uproar, followed by a swift glance upwards, of

"There's another one!"

Another what?

Then she noticed the falling body of her best friend.

As the whispers around her confirmed, she had apparently entered the situation in the same fashion.

Oh thank god I'm wearing underwear, Soho smirked to herself.

But the apparent difference in the two almost theatrical entrances was that the confusion Soho had experienced upon waking was that she had entered this world of smelly, lusty men and a half-naked man (who perhaps wasn't the worst point of the situation), unconscious. The screams, hah she would have to tell Matthew he sounded like a girl, signalled the second person falling was not unconscious, in fact he was very much pointing out that his lungs were still in full working order, to the point it hurt her rather confused head.

"MATTHEW DO YOU HAVE TO BLOODY YELL SO LOUD?"

The screams stopped, replaced by an 'oof' sound as the squirming body fell into the outstretched arms of the men. He was soon on his feet.

"Also, what the FUCK are we doing here? I blame you. You were driving. You drove into the tree…and now? Where are we?!" Soho ranted away, stepping closer to her best friend with every sentence, finishing with a painful jab of her finger to his chest.

Matthew grimaced.

"The Caribbean, luv"

Jack couldn't help but smirk at the look on the girl's face as she turned to meet his gaze.

"Ah, I see the man has managed to put a shirt on." She smirked back.

"See something you liked luv?"

"I've seen better"

Strictly, she corrected, she hadn't. But she wasn't going to let this cocky git of a man get the last laugh.

Or perhaps he had, as it was he who had the pistol aimed right at her and Matthew, and it was him who asked so politely,

"Now what would two people like you be doing falling onto my blessed Pearl?"

Oh dear.

This was going to be a long, hungover, confused day.

Jack, however, despite the niggling confusion of how two people had ended up on his ship, was having a rather good day. He had a woman aboard, an attractive woman, who wasn't Ana-Maria. Oh, and the whelp would probably come in handy at some point.

The whelp. He was dressed differently as well. What did this all mean? A look of confusion crossed his features.

"Er, Captain I'm guessing, are we going to stand around all day, or are you going to finish pointing your rather large pistol in my face?"

Soho cringed at her sexual innuendo, receiving a glare from Matthew. In a hushed voice she turned to him, apologising, "Sorry, I can't help it, he is quite attractive."

"Feelings are mutual dearie." Jack was out of his daze, roused by the girl's words, which had somewhat doubled his entendre.

"You two, Gibbs, my cabin. Now. The rest of you – back to work you scabrous dogs!"

And with that he turned his back on his crew, and wandered back to his cabin, stopping only briefly to stroke the wood of his beloved ship.

Matthew sighed. He had no answers for his best friend, though he wished he did. Presuming that dear Miss Molko had not been treated to the same conscious bumpy fall he had, he admitted to himself he was scared. Matthew Alexander Holmes had been scared before, but as far as he could remember he had never ended up on a ship sailing in the middle of a far off ocean, having previously been about to hit a tree in his car. Now Soho, she was handling it all as if it was some game – flirting with the pirate captain, poking him…Matthew was aware of her gaze upon him.

Then in a split second, she was attached to him, in a tight embrace.

"There will be no public rutting on the deck unless it is with me, savvy?!"

Matthew had a feeling this was going to be a very interesting adventure.