Geneviève glowered at the dark-skinned woman who was standing against the door to the cabin, dark eyes watching the french woman. She had brought a change of clothing for Geneviève, along with a message from the captain. She was to make them dinner!
"Bêtard arrogant. I do not cook for anyone." Her mutterings were greeted with a snort, and a twist of the dark woman's lips. "How dare he command me to do such a thing! It is beneath my station..."
"Dere are ot'er t'ings you could be doin' on a ship, missy. It ain't a free ride, ma fille, an' cookin' one o' de least humiliatin' t'ings he could ha' you be doin'." The dark woman shrugged. "Up to you what you do wit' it."
Geneviève stared at the woman, feeling heat creeping up her cheeks, and knowing she had to be as red as the scarf she'd been given to tie back her hair. "Un Dieu m'accordent la pitié, he wouldn't! You will tell me true, he would not ask..." She trailed off, half-embarressed by the question, half uncertain of the words she was looking for.
A half-grin appeared on the other woman's face, and she shook her head. "Not you. You ain't de type 'e'd want t' tumble."
Geneviève wondered why she felt more anger at that comment than relief, a scowl forming on her face. Je devrais être heureux il ne me voudrais pas... Je... mais pourquoi, mon Dieu, suis- je suis- sentiment dérangé qu'un pirate sanglant ne voudrait pas... la dégringolade... je ?
"I... will cook for him, but not for the whole crew." She raised her chin, looking down her nose at the other woman, her expression almost daring her to contradict her.
The dark woman shrugged. "It on you' head, missy. I ain't gonna worry about it." She turned away, leaving the cabin to Geneviève so she could change.
With a muffled shriek, she threw the clothing across the room, her features set in a mutinous expression. A moment later, she retrieved the clothing with a growl, shaking them out to reveal a skirt, shirt, and the red scarf, along with a boned bodice that made her eyes narrow, and a growl emerge from her throat. No one was putting her into one of those, and if the captain thought she'd wear a skirt before she was returned to her home, he would soon realize his mistake.
Her expression changed again a moment later, despair flashing across her face. Et que le pirate fera-t-il quand il me trouve dehors ne peut pas faire cuire? Ah, Paulette, je me souhaite n'avais pas été un tel imbécile la nuit passée, et seul étais sorti!
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the clothing a moment, before she grimaced, and pulled off her brother's shirt, pulling the shirt the pirates had provided her, and tying back her thick, dark hair with the scarf. If the pirate died from her cooking, so be it. At least then she might be able to get away from them - even if only through the mercy of death.
~~~ ~~~
Jack watched Geneviève come out of his cabin, a grim expression on her face, and head for the galley. At least the French woman was listening to him now. He grinned, whistling a jaunty tune as he continued to steer the Pearl towards Tortuga. He owed the crew a few days in port after their latest adventure.
He watched as Cotton came flying up the stairs from the galley, a shouted oath following him. Apparently, the wench didn't take kindly to others in her kitchen. Though she did put up quite a fuss about doing work. And then she agreed to cook just for you, Jack. That thought brought back the grin that had begun to fade. Of course she did. You're Captain Jack Sparrow! What woman could resist you?
~~~ ~~~
Geneviève looked over the food with a critical eye. It did look vaguely edible, and it smelled decent. Though she wouldn't vouch for the flavor. Non. Il y a une raison le cuisinier menacé pour me jeter en l'air hors de sa cuisine sur mon oreille, aucune matière que j'étais la soeur du maître.
"It smells delicious, luv."
She spun, startled at the voice behind her, her eyes narrowing at the grin and the nickname from the pirate captain. "Do you not have any manners at all? You are supposed to knock before you enter a room!" Her voice was sharp with fear and exhaustion, though she barely noticed. Anger still coursed in her blood, and kept her on her feet.
The pirate frowned slightly, peering into her face a moment. "My apologies, mademoiselle. Shall I exit, and make another attempt at a proper entry?" His tone bordered on the sarcastic, and she shook her head, keeping her shoulders from slumping from sheer will power. She would not let this pirate see any weakness.
"Non. It is pointless. I will leave you to your meal, while I find someplace more sutible to sleep than on your floor." She tried to brush past him, only to have him catch her arm. She glared up at him, fear and anger warring for the primary emotion she felt, unaware of how clearly they showed in her eyes.
He looked down at her a moment, before speaking softly. "I insist you stay for dinner, m'lady. You haven't eaten all day." The soft tone and concern in his expression simply made her anger flare, and she yanked her arm from his grasp.
"Non. I will not eat with an arrogant worm like you." She tried once again to leave, but he merely reached out to wrap an arm around her waist, turning her around to face the cabin again.
"I insist. Eating a meal with a pirate will not kill you, luv." He smiled at her, and Geneviève glared back. She wasn't sure if she hated his over-familiar manners, or the thrill she'd felt travel down her spine when he'd piked her up to turn her around more. And no matter what he said, she had no intention of eating a single bite of what she cooked, and run the risk of being ill at the best.
"I am not hungry." It was a thin excuse, and her stomach contridicted her statement by grumbling loudly. "And I wish nothing to do with you."
He smiled, and shook his head, a warm hand in the small of her back guiding her towards the table. She found herself seated next to him, one of his arms draped over the back of the chair to prevent her from going anywhere. Her eyes widened as he reached out to carve a slice from the slightly burnt haunch of meat, offering it to her on the point of his knife.
"I am not hungry, I told you." She shook her head. "You do not have to share your meal with me."
He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting patiently for her to take the meat. "It wouldn't be poisoned, now would it, luv? Perhaps that's why you don't want to eat any of it."
Geneviève snorted. "Non. What would that buy me but a swift death? I am in no mood to die."
"Then eat." His arm on the back of the chair kept her trapped, unless she did as he told her to. She glared at him for a long moment before reluctantly taking a small bite from the piece of meat.
"Now let me go." She tried to push away from the table, and he simply shook his head, keeping her firmly in place, his hand now curling around her shoulder.
"You have to eat more than that, Geneviève."
~~~ ~~~
Translations:
bâtard arrogant - arrogant bastard ma fille - my girl un dieu m'accordent la pitié - God grant me mercy Je devrais être heureux il ne me voudrais pas... Je... mais pourquoi, mon Dieu, suis- je suis- sentiment dérangé qu'un pirate sanglant ne voudrait pas... la dégringolade... je ? - I should be glad he would not want me... I am... but why, my God, am I feeling upset that a bloody pirate would not want to... tumble... me? Et que le pirate fera-t-il quand il me trouve dehors ne peut pas faire cuire? Ah, Paulette, je me souhaite n'avais pas été un tel imbécile la nuit passée, et seul étais sorti! - And what will the pirate do when he finds out I can not cook? Oh, Paulette, I wish I had not been such a fool last night, and gone out alone! Non. Il y a une raison le cuisinier menacé pour me jeter en l'air hors de sa cuisine sur mon oreille, aucune matière que j'étais la soeur du maître. - No. There is a reason the cook threatened to toss me out of his kitchen on my ear, no matter that I was the master's sister.