Woot! They're finally in Port Royal and this is where the proverbial **** is going to start hitting the non-period fan. Thanks for sticking with me so far, enjoy this edition to their complicated relationship.

As she walked along the narrow lane, Ashlynne barely kept herself from howling with frustration. Not only had the blacksmith been a drunken rogue but he'd also been the bearer of very bad news. He'd sold the much desired "item" to the inn keeper a few months prior to her arrival. Due to his outstanding bill, they were now not on good terms and as such the blacksmith would be unable-more likely unwilling-to put in a good word for her with the man, thus leaving her to make introductions and transactions on her own with a complete stranger.

At first she'd wanted to stab him with the bejeweled dagger but when he'd told her how much he'd sold the item for she figured he was too much of an idiot to waste the prison sentence on. The blacksmith had eyed the dagger with vague recollection but she'd paid him in gold for the information instead and kept the dagger; best to give it to the real owner of the "item" instead of the drooling imbecile-if she even had to give it at all; perhaps the innkeeper wouldn't need it either? The blacksmith, for his part, only argued briefly before she'd poured him another drink and left him passed out on the table just outside his shop.

She'd noticed that there had been no apprentice to the blacksmith and that for the most part it looked as if the locals of Port Royal were doing what they could to repair their own metal works while the man, supposedly skilled enough to do it, nearly drowned in his own drool. She remembered overhearing the captain and Norrington discussing the lad Will Turner and his future. Might not be a bad suggestion, though the blacksmith was a far cry from a proper father figure, his shop would at least offer him shelter and livelihood, once the blacksmith got off his arse long enough to teach him the tricks of the trade. Yes, perhaps she'd better-

"Ow! Ye bloody ingrate! That was me foot ye so kindly stepped on!" She hopped on one foot and cradled the offended appendage close to her waist for a few moments, not bothering to look up until the throbbing eased. When she did look up, she found herself staring at one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen, accompanied by one of the dourest looking older gentlemen. "Beggin' yer pardon. I didna realize ye were of quality." She made sure to pull her cap off and bow slightly, assuming a docile and humble stature. "I 'ave another foot ye could tread upon if it so pleases ye."

While the woman looked mildly amused, the man glared daggers at her, "What nonsense! You had best show your betters the respect they deserve you filthy sea rat."

"Aye, I am a sea rat, and aye I 'ave nay had a good washin' yet. But as to showin' respect, I do show respect, but to those who deserve it, sir, and nay just folks who 'appen to 'ave more lands and titles than meself." Again the woman looked amused, more so now, while the man's face began to burn bright red. "Before ye keel o'er dead from anger, sir, ye best ken that I was born in the month o' mischief and me ma ne'er could box me ears enough for me to behave. I 'ave just been 'avin a wee bit o' fun with ye." While the man seemed to be breathing more evenly he still looked ready to yell obscenities at her. "I will take me leave of ye now." She replaced her cap and gave the woman a smile. "Pleasure 'avin me foot abused by ye miss." She turned to face the man who was now more flabbergasted than anything. "I'm sure yer 'eart's been beatin like mad for a bit so it's been a right pleasure 'elping ye get the exercise ye needed."

Before he could fully erupt into shouts, Ashlynne turned on her heel and trotted down the lane. She was near the corner when she heard the woman laughing while the man growled out obscenities. Pausing at the corner, she looked back towards the pair. The woman looked up and caught her gaze and gave a wink with a secret smile. Ashlynne felt a blush erupt in her cheeks and threw herself back around the corner, leaning against the wall. That was…odd and entirely unexpected. She'd had to tiptoe around women before while in disguise, she knew how to flirt as both male and female, but rarely had a woman actually responded quite like that, and so quickly.

"Oi! Ash boy!" Ashlynne stiffened when she heard Hardy. She looked up to find him and Davies stalking towards her, Thomas apparently off somewhere else causing mischief. "We were just heading towards the tavern. You want to join? I think I owe you a drink." He stopped just shy of where Ashlin was and gruffly reached out to ruffle her hair, causing her cap to fall on the ground beside her.

"Where's Thomas?" She questioned as she quickly retrieved the cap, keeping her eyes settled on both Hardy and Davies, her trust of them still lacking.

Davies smirked, "He's off visiting a cousin of his, or at least he says she's his cousin. From the way they were eyeing each other I'd say they were a very close family, if you catch my meaning." He elbowed Ashlynne roughly in the ribs as he and Hardy had a good guffaw at Thomas' expense.

"I 'ave a few more places to stop in before the shops close. I'll drop by a lil later, 'ow's that sound?" She really wanted to get her task over with so she could heave that sigh of relief she'd had built up for over a year already.

Hardy and Davies didn't look convinced but at the same time they didn't look like they wanted to fight her. In fact, since she'd saved Hardy's life they'd cut back on the jesting and pushing. A type of respect hovered in the air between them and it was enough to keep them from making her life too miserable; still a little miserable, of course, but not as much as before.

"If you say so, Ash boy." Hardy clapped her hard on the shoulder as he passed. "We'll save a few wenches for you." He shared a good laugh with Davies as they continued on their way down the lane.

Ashlynne shook her head. She already, apparently, had had enough trouble with wenches thus far in Port Royal. She'd prefer to keep the number from rising. More determined than ever, now that she had a goal in sight and more reasonable time table to work with, she hurried towards the inn.

James tapped his finger against his sword hilt as he waited just outside the governor's house. The captain was still inside talking to Swann while the last of their belongings were being brought in. Miss Swann had disappeared some moments before with one of the local women and her daughter, apparently eager to explore her new home. While James admired the girl's sense of adventure he had an inkling that eventually that sense of adventure would lead her into trouble.

Glancing up at the storm-cloud darkened sky he resisted the desire to sigh. Having docked the day before and settled all affairs with the harbor authorities, he'd had some time to explore the town. While he'd found it entirely too small to satisfy certain cravings it was thankfully large enough to indulge at least one, that of a bath and lodgings away from the ship for a night. He was eager to be on his way to do just that. He only had to wrap things up with the captain before he was officially on leave.

A good portion of the crew was already on leave, and had disappeared with a speed that shouldn't have surprised him. Ashlin had been among the crew on leave this day. It had not been his doing, them both having the same day of leave. It was entirely possible that eventually they might run into one another, though he certainly didn't wish it. Some time away from the lad would do him some good.

"Well lieutenant," James brought his attention back to find the captain standing next to time, drawing his hat back upon his head, "Just have one more person to meet and I'd like you to meet him as well."

James mentally frowned but outwardly nodded, "Yes sir." He fell into step beside the captain and held open the carriage door before crawling up behind him.

"Yes, it is a Mr. Forester. He is related to a friend of mine back from my Liverpool days. It seems that Forester has a daughter that he'd like to have attend one of the finer schools located near London. He wanted to meet with me to discuss the particulars of perhaps sailing back with us, since we are the only ship in port that is set to sail in that direction this season."

James nodded, "Of course sir." He was not looking forward to having a woman on board but he had no say in it.

"In any case, I think having you there will set his heart more at ease." The captain had a smile that made James a little uncomfortable.

"Sir?"

"Well Forester is of course worried that his daughter and her chaperone would be exposed to foul language and coarse behavior while on board. Hearing only from me that such things would not happen may not be enough to appease his fears. Having you represent more of the crew would be beneficial for such a task."

James didn't know if he should be insulted or complimented by such a statement but he nodded his assent and politely listened to the captain tell him more particulars about this Forester fellow and his daughter as they rode back into Port Royal. He owned a sugar plantation near the Port and relied heavily upon imported slaves to work his land. He had a title, a barrister, but seemed more interested in earning money out here in the wilds than wasting away on his family lands in England. The daughter had no siblings and with her mother gone, died giving birth to her, she lacked more refined company; thus the reason Mr. Forester seemed so intent upon sending her to England.

It was raining by the time they met up with the dour looking fellow and his stunningly beautiful daughter. The older fellow had some rather unflattering things to say about some of the newly arrived sailors before they had even sat down at the tavern table. While the captain laughed at Forester's expense and assured him that none of their crew were Irish AND disrespectful, James had a sinking suspicion that yes in fact they did. While he didn't know why he would react in such a way, James felt that most certainly the "Irish runt" Forester and his daughter had been accosted by was indeed Ashlin. When he saw the clerk again he'd be sure to question him.

Her luck was not getting any better. Not only had she had to hand over the dagger, but she'd also had to cough up a good portion of her own cash in order to get her hands on this bloody pendant—she'd gone through all this trouble for a necklace? It was pretty enough, a black-red gem held in the claws of vicious looking dragon-esque creatures, snarling at each other as they crisscrossed over the gem and back around to the top where it attached to a simple metal would Ingram want with this? It didn't look to be of English origins, Caribbean either. Given the designs of the dragons she'd wager it had an Orient origin and just why Ingram, a usurper laird from Scotland, would want such a thing had her head spinning already. But her lot was not to guess at his reasons; she'd gotten the item and now it was time to find passage home.

Of course, in order to get close to the innkeeper, and to avoid detection from her fellow shipmates-who'd apparently decided to hit up the inn instead of the tavern-she'd had to bribe one of the tavern maids to give her some female garb. That conversation and transaction had been awkward enough, finding a suitable place to change and hide away her masculine clothing had been downright terrifying. Facing down arrows in the jungles had given her less fright than every knock on the door she'd hidden behind whilst changing had given her. Now she just had to sneak out the back of the tavern so as not to be seen by Hardy and the others.

"Hey!" Ashlynne halted and turned to face the wife of the innkeeper. "I don't know where you think you're going missy! Not when this kettle of water needs to be taken to the wash room. There's a well paying patron who's been waiting long enough for a bath."

Ashlynne chewed the inside of her cheek, contemplating the logistics of running down the remaining stairs and out the door before the lady could catch her. Of course, her efforts to be inconspicuous would be ruined if she did that. Figuring it was all in the line of duty, Ashlynne nodded, hurried forward and grabbed the heavy kettle from the woman. With instructions on where the room was, Ashlynne continued down the corridor to the last room on the right. She knocked quietly once before nudged the door open; she wasn't about to wait long, the kettle was hot and heavy.

"Excuse me sir," she kept her voice low and her head down as she scurried across the room to where the wash tub was already steaming and partially filled, "I 'ave the rest of yer water 'ere." She made sure to switch her accent slightly; the woman she'd borrowed the clothes from had been Welsh.

"Thank you," Ashlynne almost tripped into the tub when she recognized Norrington's voice, "you may just set it to the side and I will use it when I need it."

Ashlynne nodded, unable to vocally respond. She set the kettle down a little more loudly than intended and turned to hurry out the door. She was stopped when Norrington stepped in front of her. He was wearing only his form fitting breeches and his shirt, his coat and vest discarded on a chair nearby. Ashlynne felt her mouth water from the quick glance she managed to get through her lashes. What had she done wrong to be punished in such a manner?

"For your trouble." He was holding out a shiny coin.

Ashlynne saw her hand shake slightly as she reached out and snatched it from his hand, giving a little curtsy before she brushed past him and out of the suddenly overly warm room. Once the door was closed between her and the object of her late night fantasies and day time torture, she breathed out the breath she'd been holding. Surely that was the worst it would get. Surely she would be able to escape now.

"Why are you just standing there missy?" The horrid woman was back. "There's a crowd in the tavern waiting for their food. Get yourself down to the kitchen and get to work."

Ashlynne hurried past the woman, though she tailed her down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her luck was shite today, and it didn't look like it was about to get any better. Now she was about to be fondled and leered at by her shipmates whilst serving them their fares. Surely things couldn't get any worse.