Delia couldn't believe the Governor had truly accepted her request to meet the merchant. The meeting was supposed to take place by the next day.

While she had been moved to more favourable quarters, she was still back behind bars. Although it was cleaner than the one she had been in before, unfortunately this part of the dungeon she was now imprisoned in was more populated. Instead of walls surrounding her there were bars separating her cell from others, through which one could easily see through. Luckily for her, the cells left and right of hers were uninhabited, providing additional space between her and the lecherous lowlives whistling and calling for her.

It took her a while to get used to, but eventually she had managed to ignore them and drifted into her thoughts, processing the events of the day while leaning with her back against the bars.

For some reason, she couldn't help the feeling that the Commodore seemed to have become a bit more stern than usual towards her when accompanying her back. She wondered if it had to do something with that woman.

Delia had noticed his admiration towards the young woman upon entering the study, which seemed to be unrequited judging by her curt greeting. She wondered if he was aware.

This shed a new light upon him. It would explain why he had given Delia a chance to avoid execution and possibly even his gentlemanly behaviour towards her despite being accused of witchery.

This man was single and desperately craving female attention.

And this desperation of his had saved her life.

It seemed so surreal and ridiculous to her that she burst out laughing.

A guard approached her door and threw her a suspicious glare through the bars as he passed which she did not even register in her hysterical fit of laughter. Neither did she notice the new prisoner he had thrown into the neighbouring cell.

Soon, she calmed down, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. She made a mental note to keep the information she had gathered on that day in mind. Who knows how useful it might be in her future dealings with the commodore?

"What's so funny?" A husky voice sounded dangerously close behind her, causing Delia to jerk up and away from the bars she was sitting against. She turned around and saw a ruggish looking man smirk at her mischievously. His appearance was unusual, to say the least. He had dark hair that was even longer than Delia's, framing a tanned bearded face with dark brown eyes accentuated by thick layers of coal around them. He wore a shabby triangular shaped leather hat underneath of which was a red head scarf covering his head. He was no doubt a pirate.

"None of your business," she scoffed as she scooted further away from him.

As he was about to open his mouth again, she intercepted him, turning away from him to show her disregard, "Don't talk to me."

He watched her quietly for a while, his dark brown gaze boring into her. "Since we're going to be holed up here for a while, we might as well get to know each other," he then spoke, gaining no reaction whatsoever.

"I don't know about you, love, but I don't plan on staying," he continued stubbornly and she rolled her eyes. "Perhaps we could help each other out? Make our escape together?"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Delia raised her voice at him with a glare, annoyed by his constant chattering, and then uttered to herself, "Besides, where would I even want to go?"

He must have heard her and said, "You could come with me."

"With you? Oh please," she retorted, her nose scrunching up in disgust.

"I might be the only one able to keep you safe."

"How so?" She raised a brow at him.

"You see, darling, I am a well known captain who happens to be hiring. Although I'm still lacking a crew and a ship to sail with…"

Delia sighed as he went on about how he had lost his ship and crew to his first mate who had betrayed him, tuning him out at some point. When he realised she wasn't listening, he fell silent.

At some point, she noticed how he had stopped talking and her gaze wandered over to him, only to find him staring right back at her, furrowing his brows. They stared at each other for a while longer, until he wriggled an arm through the bars, extending a hand to her and introducing himself.

"Captain Jack Sparrow."

Her doubtful gaze travelled down to his filthy hand that looked like he hadn't washed it in days and her head recoiled in disgust. She then attempted to ignore him, averting her gaze, and silence followed. A few moments later, her eyes landed back onto him only to find he was still holding out his hand and waiting for a reply. She almost pitied him.

With a roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh, she finally gave in. "Delia Veynes. And don't expect me to shake that dirty hand of yours."

A satisfied grin spread across his bearded face and he withdrew his hand, deciding to leave her be for the time being.