_-=-_

I'm going to kill him. He's standing behind me as though he's the king of the world, making mad gestures and talking to himself. And I'm going to kill him.

He thinks I don't know. The man thinks I don't know about he and Elizabeth and their little... romance. But how could I remain oblivious when she stares out the window every bloody day, waiting and hoping and praying for him?

Well, now she's got him.

He clears his throat.

"Ehm... Will?"

"What?"

I hate him. I hate him and he's nervous. There's not a jolly, or drunk, or even slightly confused tone to his voice. Just nervous.

"Er... I... Stopped by the house today."

Please, just drop dead now and save me the trouble of putting an axe through your skull...

"I think Elizabeth's... um. I think she needs..."

What, Jack? What does she need? Tell me. Perhaps I'll be enlightened and overcome this 'unfit husband' stage I seem to be stuck in...

"Will... I don't think Mrs. Turner is..."

Can't he spit it out? He doesn't think she's getting enough attention at home. He doesn't think she's attracted to me any more. He doesn't think that she's in her right mind -- I don't care what it is he says as long as he's a man about things and gives me reason to kill him.

"Er... I think she loves me, mate."

Alright, I lied. It sounds so much worse out in the open than it does in my head, when I'm talking to myself. But here Jack Sparrow waltzes into the smithy and...

_-=-_