In the dimly lit cabin, the rhythmic sound of Davy Jones' deep breaths filled the air. With every exhale, the tendrils that made up his beard shifted and undulated, reminiscent of a living entity separate from the man. The scent of salt and brine lingered in the atmosphere, making everything feel perpetually damp.
Leena, clad only in a thin sheet, carefully extracted herself from the tangle of their shared warmth. The weight of their recent actions pressed heavily on her, but there was no time for remorse or reflection. She had a mission.
With every ounce of caution, she crept closer to where the Pirate Lord slumbered. His beard – a medley of tentacles – beckoned her focus. Rumors had suggested he kept the key hidden within those writhing tendrils, and she intended to confirm them.
As her fingers tentatively navigated the pulsating mass, she felt a distinct shape. The unmistakable form of a key. Her heart raced as she tried to extract it without alerting Jones to her actions. She had preemptively taken a small bone, shaped similarly to the key, from the ship's galley. With a swift motion, she replaced the key with the bone, hoping the substitution would remain unnoticed until her escape was secure.
Key in hand, Leena retreated, slipping it into a hidden pocket in her attire. She paused, allowing herself a brief moment to catch her breath. Every second was critical.
Davy Jones stirred slightly, causing Leena's heart to skip a beat. But his breathing remained even, and he continued to sleep, oblivious to the theft that had just occurred under his very nose.
Leena, clutching the precious key, carefully made her way out of the cabin. The next part of the plan awaited: Finding the Dead Man's Chest and deciding their next course of action.