When Tabitha re-entered the captain's quarters, she found the dusty
tornado of dishes completely removed to make way for an elegantly set
dinner basking in the soft glow of restocked candelabras. The bed was made
with tight and even creases, displaying a deep scarlet duvet with gold
embroidery and plump pillows encrusted with glass beads.
Jack was seated almost chivalrously, with his legs propped against an adjacant chair versus the tabletop. He munched idly on a fresh green apple, and nodded for her to sit. She rested across from him, surveying the meal before her. Never in a thousand years would she have guessed that pirates ate so well, However, she reminded herself with the slightest hint of a grin, you are in the company of 'Captain' Jack Sparrow. Fish in beds of ripe vegetables, ambrosia salad, bread and French cheeses, an entire roasted turkey, and a thick sort of broth smelling of simmered spice.
"Water?" He offered, lifting a pitcher.
"Wine, if you please." His large chocolate eyes flickered with astonishment, but he generously filled her silver goblet without a word. She took a long, thick gulp of it, marveling at how it burned and coated the insides of her throat and washed a kind of calmness over her.
"If it's ladylike inhibition you're needin' to rid of, I'd wholeheartedly suggest th' rum," he broke in, shaking one of the many stockpiled bottles temptingly toward her with an emphatically confident smile.
"I admit I haven't had your acquantance long, Mr. Sparrow," she said, barely lifting her eyes from the scoops of food she heaped upon her plate, "but as inconceivable as it may seem, not every female within a one hundred mile radius wants to be ravaged by you."
"Well, dearest cousin, not ev'ry male y'encounter wants t' ravage ye." The golden crowns of his teeth shone as he caught the insult unintentionally smacking across her face. Her scowl averted onto the floor as she washed down another swig of liqueor. "Though I do wonder, Miss McGovern... where was said chivalrous lad as ye became a damsel 'n distress?"
"Excuse me?" The words squeaked out a little too high-pitched, and a little too loud for what she would normally exude. With a blush she covered her mouth as a hiccup rose to her mouth.
"Y'know, th' knight in shining armor, or pompous ass in Th' King's red. All ye girls 'ave one."
"...Us girls?"
"Rich girls, with all yer teeth an' not so very fat. Frequentin' parties, that sort o' thing." She realized with numbed surprise that he hadn't so much as touched his goblet the entire time, and simply watched her in amusement as she took the liberty of refilling the glass.
"Oh," she snorted cynically. "Nice theory, though. Just because you're of means and teeth doesn't mean you have gentleman begging to court you."
"Don't tell me they were all goin' after that scrawny wigged rat."
She laughed, throwing her whole head back and letting it fill the entire space. "That would be my sister, the most-"
"-beautiful girl at the ball?" Completed Jack, a striking wisdom in his voice. "Novices, th' whole lot of 'em. And there they are, sailin' to Eden, still sure they've got th' heiress in tow."
"The heiress?"
"More wine?" He offered up quickly, diverting the subject.
"Jack, you still haven't given me a satisfactory reason as to why you're helping me," she pointed out. "I may be a stupid girl from a rock, but I have heard enough of the world to know that no true pirate is going to go two feet out of his way to recover someone's heirlooms unless there's quite a payoff at the end of the tunnel. What do you know of my mother?"
He lowered his face and leaned in close to her, so that she could smell the distinct musk of worn leather and sea breeze that enveloped him. "Have I e'er given ye any reason not t' trust me?"
"In not yet twenty four hours, Jack?"
"Just answer th' question," he coaxed firmly.
She sighed and leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest. "No, you haven't."
"Well then, you can believe me when I say I never knew yer mother. Or at least who I'm assuming is yer mum." He abruptly stood from the table and, with one swift yank, tore the velvet duvet from the bed and arranged it on the floor. "Th' intoxicated carriage awaits, m'lady."
"But aren't you going to tell me about her?" She cried out, getting up after him and stumbling in spite of herself. He kicked off his boots, and without thought or shame, lifted the windblown white shirt and vest over his head and tossed them to some unseen corner of the room. Try as she may, she couldn't stop herself from sneaking a peek at the dark tanned flesh daytime clothing concealed. His rippled chest, smooth and sleek with shadowy little hairs, was marred with dark scars that were healed but not forgotten. Only on rare occasions had workers stripped to their bare bodies on the island, laying out cobblestones or working on houses. She'd only seen them from a distance, glistening with sweat in the sun as she practiced her demure mannerisms and made great show of becoming enchanted with any minor spectacle on the other side of her vision. Never had the reality of man been so close, so...intimate. Slipping into the blanket he lifted his hands behind his head and stared up at the low ceiling serenely. "Wha... you're sleeping on the floor?"
"It's most proper, I can assure ye that."
"Oh, but I can't...it's your bed, after all."
"If ye insist," he said, leaping back into the lusciously large bed. Kicking herself she nestled into the comforter, twisting to find some sort of position that didn't fully exploit the pain of the floorboards.
"So?"
"Yes'm?"
"What about my mother?"
"Not tonight, love. It goes against m'code." His eyes snapped back open, and he lifted his hand above his head in another irratic gesture. "No messin' with a drunken woman, an' that includes with 'er mind. Unless she's gettin' paid." He rolled over to face down at Tabitha mischeviously. "Ye in need of funds, Miss McGovern?"
"Good night, Jack," she sighed, turning over and letting the liquid settling in her stomach lull her to sleep.
Jack was seated almost chivalrously, with his legs propped against an adjacant chair versus the tabletop. He munched idly on a fresh green apple, and nodded for her to sit. She rested across from him, surveying the meal before her. Never in a thousand years would she have guessed that pirates ate so well, However, she reminded herself with the slightest hint of a grin, you are in the company of 'Captain' Jack Sparrow. Fish in beds of ripe vegetables, ambrosia salad, bread and French cheeses, an entire roasted turkey, and a thick sort of broth smelling of simmered spice.
"Water?" He offered, lifting a pitcher.
"Wine, if you please." His large chocolate eyes flickered with astonishment, but he generously filled her silver goblet without a word. She took a long, thick gulp of it, marveling at how it burned and coated the insides of her throat and washed a kind of calmness over her.
"If it's ladylike inhibition you're needin' to rid of, I'd wholeheartedly suggest th' rum," he broke in, shaking one of the many stockpiled bottles temptingly toward her with an emphatically confident smile.
"I admit I haven't had your acquantance long, Mr. Sparrow," she said, barely lifting her eyes from the scoops of food she heaped upon her plate, "but as inconceivable as it may seem, not every female within a one hundred mile radius wants to be ravaged by you."
"Well, dearest cousin, not ev'ry male y'encounter wants t' ravage ye." The golden crowns of his teeth shone as he caught the insult unintentionally smacking across her face. Her scowl averted onto the floor as she washed down another swig of liqueor. "Though I do wonder, Miss McGovern... where was said chivalrous lad as ye became a damsel 'n distress?"
"Excuse me?" The words squeaked out a little too high-pitched, and a little too loud for what she would normally exude. With a blush she covered her mouth as a hiccup rose to her mouth.
"Y'know, th' knight in shining armor, or pompous ass in Th' King's red. All ye girls 'ave one."
"...Us girls?"
"Rich girls, with all yer teeth an' not so very fat. Frequentin' parties, that sort o' thing." She realized with numbed surprise that he hadn't so much as touched his goblet the entire time, and simply watched her in amusement as she took the liberty of refilling the glass.
"Oh," she snorted cynically. "Nice theory, though. Just because you're of means and teeth doesn't mean you have gentleman begging to court you."
"Don't tell me they were all goin' after that scrawny wigged rat."
She laughed, throwing her whole head back and letting it fill the entire space. "That would be my sister, the most-"
"-beautiful girl at the ball?" Completed Jack, a striking wisdom in his voice. "Novices, th' whole lot of 'em. And there they are, sailin' to Eden, still sure they've got th' heiress in tow."
"The heiress?"
"More wine?" He offered up quickly, diverting the subject.
"Jack, you still haven't given me a satisfactory reason as to why you're helping me," she pointed out. "I may be a stupid girl from a rock, but I have heard enough of the world to know that no true pirate is going to go two feet out of his way to recover someone's heirlooms unless there's quite a payoff at the end of the tunnel. What do you know of my mother?"
He lowered his face and leaned in close to her, so that she could smell the distinct musk of worn leather and sea breeze that enveloped him. "Have I e'er given ye any reason not t' trust me?"
"In not yet twenty four hours, Jack?"
"Just answer th' question," he coaxed firmly.
She sighed and leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest. "No, you haven't."
"Well then, you can believe me when I say I never knew yer mother. Or at least who I'm assuming is yer mum." He abruptly stood from the table and, with one swift yank, tore the velvet duvet from the bed and arranged it on the floor. "Th' intoxicated carriage awaits, m'lady."
"But aren't you going to tell me about her?" She cried out, getting up after him and stumbling in spite of herself. He kicked off his boots, and without thought or shame, lifted the windblown white shirt and vest over his head and tossed them to some unseen corner of the room. Try as she may, she couldn't stop herself from sneaking a peek at the dark tanned flesh daytime clothing concealed. His rippled chest, smooth and sleek with shadowy little hairs, was marred with dark scars that were healed but not forgotten. Only on rare occasions had workers stripped to their bare bodies on the island, laying out cobblestones or working on houses. She'd only seen them from a distance, glistening with sweat in the sun as she practiced her demure mannerisms and made great show of becoming enchanted with any minor spectacle on the other side of her vision. Never had the reality of man been so close, so...intimate. Slipping into the blanket he lifted his hands behind his head and stared up at the low ceiling serenely. "Wha... you're sleeping on the floor?"
"It's most proper, I can assure ye that."
"Oh, but I can't...it's your bed, after all."
"If ye insist," he said, leaping back into the lusciously large bed. Kicking herself she nestled into the comforter, twisting to find some sort of position that didn't fully exploit the pain of the floorboards.
"So?"
"Yes'm?"
"What about my mother?"
"Not tonight, love. It goes against m'code." His eyes snapped back open, and he lifted his hand above his head in another irratic gesture. "No messin' with a drunken woman, an' that includes with 'er mind. Unless she's gettin' paid." He rolled over to face down at Tabitha mischeviously. "Ye in need of funds, Miss McGovern?"
"Good night, Jack," she sighed, turning over and letting the liquid settling in her stomach lull her to sleep.