Disclaimer: POTC should belong to me. It should, it should, it should.
"Is it r-ready?" Squirrel can barely contain her excitement. Will Turner smiles, and lifts the cloth. Squirrel stares at the knife, and gingerly picks it up by the hilt.
"A special alloy," Will explains as Squirrel removes the scabbard and looks at her surprised reflection. "Light as a feather, but just as strong and sharp as any blade. Gold filigree in the handle." He adds proudly.
Squirrel has no idea what this means, but her knife looks extremely sharp. She stabs and slashes at the air experimentally. It makes a swishing noise that Squirrel finds she likes.
"It's so light!" She beams, her eyes filled with adoration. "It's perfect! Thankyou, Mister Turner!"
Will clears his throat, embarrassed but pleased. "Call me Will, if you would be so kind, Miss Grey." He remembers something, and pulls an envelope from his pocket. "Oh, and this is for Jack."
It's Jack's invitation for the wedding. Squirrel grins, and Will smiles sheepishly back.
"Am I correct in assuming that the two of you will be making an appearance?" He asks. What's with all these big words?
Squirrel nods. "I'm l-looking forward to it. Jack as well." She slides her knife back into its scabbard. "What do you w-want f-for a wedding gift, by the way? We're h-heading to the Isla De Muerta to p-pick something up."
Will's eyes seem to bulge out of his head. "The Isla De Muerta? For a… wedding gift?" Squirrel smiles. Will told her his side of the story this morning. She met him in the marketplace, and Will talked while she shopped.
"Do you mean to say that Jack intends to …"
"He intends to give you 'a wedding gift that a pirate deserves'." Squirrel says, copying Jack's voice. She reaches into her belt-pouch. "How m-much do I owe you for the knife?"
Will names his price, and Squirrel pays in gold. "See you at the wedding!" She smiles, waving, and disappears back outside. Will sighs.
"Just what are you planning this time, Jack?" He wonders aloud. With yet another dramatic sigh, he pockets the money and picks a sword off the wall. It's time for him to practise.
"So how long until we r-reach the Isla De Muerta?" Squirrel asks softly.
Jack shrugs. "A day at least." He pauses. "Now what?"
"Stand like this," Squirrel instructs, and put your arm like this…"
Jack grins. "You know, I'm actually starting to like this pansy-ass English dancing."
"Why?" Squirrel looks up, confused.
"'Coz I just happen to have my arms around a very beautiful young lass." He waggles his eyebrows. Squirrel turns bright red and tries not to smile.
It's not true. There's no way it can be…
"So, did young Bootstrap say what he wanted as a gift?"
Squirrel shakes her head. "But whatever you get him, I'm s-s-sure he'll love it."
Jack grins, and pretends to stumble through another dance step. Squirrel squeals and slaps him.
It's not true. It can't be true. He's mine, and I'm his. There's no other way it can be…
A/N: -sings- You always tell me... Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...