I was no stranger to being locked in. Hell, I'd even been handcuffed to my
own shower curtain rod. Naked. And I had to call Ranger to unlock the
cuffs. So being locked in a cabin on a pirate ship wasn't nearly as bad as
that. Or at least so I told myself as began rifling through dresser
drawers.
In short order, I learned some very important things. One, the cabin belonged to Sparrow. Two, Sparrow's taste in clothes was pretty flamboyant. Three, he had a gun collection. Normally, I hate guns and prefer to keep mine in my teddy bear cookie jar, but these were interesting.
"If you're planning on shooting me, you should know the guns aren't loaded, love."
Sparrow's voice startled me into dropping the gun I was fiddling with onto my foot. Fortunately, I was wearing my Cat boots with the Vibram soles, so it didn't hurt nearly as badly as it could have.
Our heads collided as we both bent to retrieve the gun. And then our fingers touched as we ignored the thumping of our noggins and concentrated on grabbing the gun.
Sparrow got it first. He backed away and tucked it into his sash. "What do you have to say for yourself, missy?"
"You've got a hard head under all that hair."
"Ye went through my things!"
"Not all of them. Just your clothes and your guns." I picked up another one and aimed it at one of his knick-knacks.
"Be careful with that!"
"You just told me it's not loaded."
He sighed loudly and then changed the subject. "I brought you food."
Those were the magic words. I put the gun back in the drawer where I found it and turned to see what he brought. It wasn't anything I recognized. "What the hell is that?"
"Hardtack."
"Hardwhat?" I picked up one of the grayish brown lumps. "You're supposed to eat this? It looks like a rock."
Sparrow was beginning to look pained. "You're insulting my hospitality."
"I'm supposed to thank you for bringing me a moldy roll?"
"Maybe you'd prefer it in the brig instead of my quarters."
"Brig?" Wasn't that where they put the bad guys on Star Trek?
"Aye, lass, the brig. Way down there, below decks."
Below decks? With the rats, probably. "Thanks for the rocks."
"Ye're welcome." Sparrow regarded me through narrowed kohl-lined eyes, his gaze sweeping up and down my body.
I looked down at myself. Probably, cargo pants hadn't been invented yet. And it was a good bet that the black stretchy top I was wearing with my black cargo pants wasn't exactly at the height of fashion in 1689, either. Still, Sparrow looked like a reject from an Errol Flynn movie, except for the dreads, which would have put him circa Milli Vanilli.
We stared at each other for quite a while.
It occurred to me that his eyes were a lot like Morelli's – a deep chocolate brown. He was lean and muscular, like Morelli. Yeah, I was missing Morelli. Bad. But Sparrow wasn't a bad hallucination. If he cleaned himself up a little, I might even be wondering whether it would be cheating to have sex with a hallucination. Probably it would be.
We continued staring at each other.
Sparrow moved closer and reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face. He was stopped short by a knock at the door and a shout.
"Cap'n. We've got company!"
Flashing me a very Morelli-like grin, Sparrow tipped his hat in my direction. "Sorry, love, duty calls."
"But –"
"Behave yourself." He tossed me one of those hardtack things and dashed out.
I was beginning to feel like Charlie Brown on Halloween. Everyone else got the candy and old Stephanie got a rock.
In short order, I learned some very important things. One, the cabin belonged to Sparrow. Two, Sparrow's taste in clothes was pretty flamboyant. Three, he had a gun collection. Normally, I hate guns and prefer to keep mine in my teddy bear cookie jar, but these were interesting.
"If you're planning on shooting me, you should know the guns aren't loaded, love."
Sparrow's voice startled me into dropping the gun I was fiddling with onto my foot. Fortunately, I was wearing my Cat boots with the Vibram soles, so it didn't hurt nearly as badly as it could have.
Our heads collided as we both bent to retrieve the gun. And then our fingers touched as we ignored the thumping of our noggins and concentrated on grabbing the gun.
Sparrow got it first. He backed away and tucked it into his sash. "What do you have to say for yourself, missy?"
"You've got a hard head under all that hair."
"Ye went through my things!"
"Not all of them. Just your clothes and your guns." I picked up another one and aimed it at one of his knick-knacks.
"Be careful with that!"
"You just told me it's not loaded."
He sighed loudly and then changed the subject. "I brought you food."
Those were the magic words. I put the gun back in the drawer where I found it and turned to see what he brought. It wasn't anything I recognized. "What the hell is that?"
"Hardtack."
"Hardwhat?" I picked up one of the grayish brown lumps. "You're supposed to eat this? It looks like a rock."
Sparrow was beginning to look pained. "You're insulting my hospitality."
"I'm supposed to thank you for bringing me a moldy roll?"
"Maybe you'd prefer it in the brig instead of my quarters."
"Brig?" Wasn't that where they put the bad guys on Star Trek?
"Aye, lass, the brig. Way down there, below decks."
Below decks? With the rats, probably. "Thanks for the rocks."
"Ye're welcome." Sparrow regarded me through narrowed kohl-lined eyes, his gaze sweeping up and down my body.
I looked down at myself. Probably, cargo pants hadn't been invented yet. And it was a good bet that the black stretchy top I was wearing with my black cargo pants wasn't exactly at the height of fashion in 1689, either. Still, Sparrow looked like a reject from an Errol Flynn movie, except for the dreads, which would have put him circa Milli Vanilli.
We stared at each other for quite a while.
It occurred to me that his eyes were a lot like Morelli's – a deep chocolate brown. He was lean and muscular, like Morelli. Yeah, I was missing Morelli. Bad. But Sparrow wasn't a bad hallucination. If he cleaned himself up a little, I might even be wondering whether it would be cheating to have sex with a hallucination. Probably it would be.
We continued staring at each other.
Sparrow moved closer and reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face. He was stopped short by a knock at the door and a shout.
"Cap'n. We've got company!"
Flashing me a very Morelli-like grin, Sparrow tipped his hat in my direction. "Sorry, love, duty calls."
"But –"
"Behave yourself." He tossed me one of those hardtack things and dashed out.
I was beginning to feel like Charlie Brown on Halloween. Everyone else got the candy and old Stephanie got a rock.