She found him in the cabin, at the long low table that she'd dined at once before. With infinitely less pleasant company, though the spread had been more lavish. Barbossa's touch remained in places, certainly; three days could not undo ten years of malicious cobwebs and a taste for ruined velvet. All traces of monkey had been eliminated painstakingly by namesake Jack himself; ropes and perches and a cupboard, formerly a nest, all scoured away by knife and wash bucket. The bowl of apples still sat out proudly; speaking more to the captain's taste for irony than for produce.
"Have an orange." he said, through a mouthful of juice. A trickle ran out of the side of his mouth, and trailed down the dusky hollow of his throat, disappearing under his shirtfront. "They're delicious." Elizabeth could imagine countless such oranges, leaving endless sticky paths under a parade of unwashed cotton. It made her long for a bath.
"No, thank you." she sat across from him in the cleanest chair available. And crossed her legs demurely, despite the pants. "I didn't come to dine. I'm not… I'm not hungry at all, actually."
"Liar." he flashed her a pulpy smile. "You're starving." He tossed her a hunk of his current victim, and without hesitation, she popped it into her mouth and sucked it dry. And reached for another. It vanished almost as quickly as she could peel it; she chased it down with a close relative of the first. Jack, meanwhile, nibbled his daintily.
After a few moments and a brief, unexpected shot of citrus in the eye, Elizabeth paused.
"What am I doing ?" she said, more to herself than to him.
"S'alright." he sighed, picking fibers from his teeth. The gold flashing from between his lips made her think of lemons, and the hunger rose again. He tossed an empty rind onto the table, thoughtfully. "This is my ninth."
"It's the curse !" she whispered, and shoved her chair back from the table. "It's the curse, we'll keep on eating and eating and we'll never be full !" He eyed her waist.
"Could do you some good." he added, but she ignored him.
"I didn't realize… it came so quickly. I didn't know it would be like this. That I'd be so…"
"Ravenous ?"
"…starving, for everything. I want lemons, and limes and lamb and beef brisket, oh God !" she put a hand to her forehead in horror. "I want pie. I want chicken and fatty duck and hot toast with jam, and my aunt's cherry bread…"
"I want a lobster." he offered, but she continued on, rising from her seat and pacing in agitation. Her words soon took on the beat of her footsteps.
"I want fish and pickled beets, I hate pickled beets ! But I want bread pudding and hot wine and crackers, and…"
"And ?" he said, and her pacing broke. She regarded him for a long moment, turned to the window, turned back. Wheeling like a fencer, she climbed upon the table on her hands and knees; papers and charts and the damned bushel of oranges flying; and stopped, a single silken hair away.
"And God help me." her breath was hot on his lips, warming them to rubies. He'd forgotten how cold he was. "Jack."
"Yes ?" Mad, laughing golden eyes shone back at his.
"I want you."
Jack was rarely surprised by anything, natural or supernatural or anything in between; but Elizabeth had the knack for it. He would have convinced her to maintain her dignity in the face of such temptation; but, pirate.