PROTOCOL
"Ever been marooned on a godforsaken spit of land in the middle of the ocean, wearing naught but your shift, with only an infamous pirate captain and a cache of rum for company, Miss Swann?" Trinkets and beads and the gold of his mouth glinted in the firelight.

"Let me think, Captain Sparrow," she said, affecting his studied pose of consideration, fingertip to chin. "No, I don't believe that I have. I wonder at the protocol of such a situation?"

"It calls for singing, Miss Swann," he grinned, passing her the bottle, "and for just a bit more rum."

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June 6, 2005 Drabble Challenge: Fire