Pairing: Pintel and Ragetti
Word Count: 592
Prompt: Shoe
A/N: Takes place during CotBP when our two favorite miscreants cross-dress to distract the Dauntless.

A Fine Diversion

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As the two pirates rummaged through a heavy leather trunk that emerged amongst the Isla de Muerta's bountiful mountains of swag, they could see why shoes could cost a fortune, and marveled at the intricacy of their design. The eighteenth century women's shoe was frankly the most luxurious accessory. Ladies of quality wore shoes of rich dress silks which might, but did not necessarily, match their gowns. Magnificent silk brocades told others that the shoes were meant for a wealthy woman, and the kind of shoes that a woman wore that defined their entire personality.

They figured that they could earn a pretty penny for each pair. How much was the mystery, but they surely knew it would be more than they would anticipate for something that's been on a dainty ladies foot.

Furthermore, they didn't smell, so that would add another shilling or two to the price.

Unlike clothes, shoes had a distinct advantage. Whether she was fat or thin, short or tall, beautiful or ugly, a woman adorned with a proper pair of shoes was a force to be reckoned with.

"Oi, Pint! Which one o' these matches me dress?" Ragetti asked, holding up two pairs of satin dress shoes.

"Which one o' these matches me dress?" Pintel mimicked, struggling with a pair of his own satin white brocades. "Stow it! I've 'ad enough of this blasted plan already! Not only are we undead, but now on top of that, we 'ave to wear frilly dresses! I don't see why Barbossa couldn't cause a cannon balldiversion like a real pirate. And why don't any these bloody things fit right?"

"They're called straights," Ragetti corrected, lifting a knowing finger. "They're not supposed to fit right; they're just supposed to go all straight-like, so they don't cause any confusion. Women don't like confusion."

Pintel wrinkled his nose and lifted a curious brow. "What's do ya mean 'straight-like'?"

"Well, they're not necessarily goin' left … an' they're not necessarily goin' right," Ragetti explained, finally choosing the proper pair for his garment along with a small lace umbrella. He thought it was quite fitting for the occasion. "Its jus' goes, well, ya know. Straight."

"Figures you'd know somethin' like that," Pintel said, forcing the shoes to fit around his plump feet, attempting to wiggle his toes within the tightly confined space, but he cussed every saint that ever set foot in the Heaven's by that point.

"Are ya wearin' that dress with those shoes?" Ragetti asked, slightly confused.

Pintel suddenly grew concerned with his choice. "Why? You think it's too much?"

Ragetti shook his head and give a small pout as he opened the delicate umbrella. "No, no. Nothin'. Forget I said anythin'. You look fine."

Ragetti knew that the last thing any woman wanted to hear in response to their appearance was the word 'fine.' Mostly because it always insinuated that something was amiss. Thank goodness Pintel didn't know that much.

"You know, there's no use carryin' that blasted thing if it 'as holes in it!" Pintel exclaimed after a moment.

"Well, it's not exactly rainin' and we've got to be convincin'. What part of diversion did ya not understand? 'Sides, I think it looks rather dashin' on me," Ragetti retorted, resting the umbrella on his shoulder as he sauntered over to the longboat. "I'll bet me petticoats they won't see us comin'."

Pintel rolled his eyes wearily. "Bet you fifty shillings that yer mum wouldn't have seen that get up comin'."

"Hmph. Don't be stupid, you don't e'en 'ave fifty shillings!"

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