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Everything in Panama City had gone mostly according to plan, a rare happenstance for the pirates in this motley crew, and the more superstitious among them spent the first few days on board their new vessel debating whether this meant good luck or bad, fair wind or foul.

The Spanish ship they'd stolen isn't large or particularly pleasing to the eye, being in need of some new paint and wood maintenance, but it's seaworthy and swift before the wind, and most importantly, well-stocked for a long voyage.

And a long journey to Singapore it will be.

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"A liability?" Indignant, she glares at Barbossa and takes a menacing step closer, leading with one shoulder. All that's missing is a finger jabbing his chest, and that's a near thing. "I am not a liability. I will hold my own as well as any pirate here, perhaps better, and you cannot doubt my determination to succeed."

Again, no mention of the situation with Will. Pride pricked, she continues to eye him stubbornly. She's been watching and surreptitiously learning from him during their renewed acquaintance, and his doubt sparks her temper.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what I can and cannot do, miss Swann! Surrounded as I am by people whom I wouldn't trust with a broken wooden knife, I can and will doubt anyone and everyone. And you -are- a liability if your mind and your heart are elsewhere, no matter how well you can fight."

He eyes her. His voice all through the little tirade has been level, but cold. He doesn't trust her, and doesn't really believe she'll be up to the work ahead. Changed, she has, but maybe not enough. And as long as she doesn't make up her mind, she will very much be a liability for herself and everyone else. And if he has to prod her until she blows up for her to realize, he will.

Elizabeth doesn't blow up.

She settles her feet hip distance apart, eyes on his, and adopts a carefully controlled expression. There's no longer anything belligerent about her demeanor. Cold, yes. Cold and rigid and proud, but not bristling with anger.

"My mind and heart are right here," she tells him, and her own tone is low and level, "where they should be. I will stop at nothing, let nothing distract me, until we do what must be done. You can believe my word or not," and there's a thin smile of acknowledgment that there's little if any trust between most people on board, "but you'd be doing yourself a disservice if you think I'll be of no use simply because I went looking for my fiancé."

She lifts her chin.

"You may not think so, but you need me."

"I never said you were of no use, did I? Everyone has some use for a man who knows how to judge. But what worries me, Miss Swann, isn't that you have gone looking for your fiancé. What worries me is, for a woman who so very often asserts that nothing will stand in her way, you seem to be failing quite soundly at actually -finding- him. Or maybe just deciding who this 'him' is."

He tilts his head back, looking at her down the line of his nose, teeth slightly bared in a gesture that is more silent snarl than grin.

The look seems to faze Elizabeth not a bit. She arches an eyebrow and stands her ground, contriving to look almost amused by his reaction.

"William Turner," she reminds him slowly, as if speaking to a dimwitted child. "And though I have searched high and low and failed to locate him, my search would be greatly aided if those who had seen him would deign to tell me his whereabouts."

He chuckles at her response.

"Keep telling yourself that, miss Swann."

Then he goes to take a step away, turning to speak back to her over his shoulder.

"Mister Turner and Captain Reynolds have taken off to the temple where our navigational charts are held. The best to finish their part of the job as soon as possible and join us in Singapore."

The bottom drops out of Elizabeth's stomach, but she'll be damned before she lets Barbossa know how thoroughly his announcement has caught her off guard.

"I see." She swallows, concentrating on keeping her voice even. "And what is our first move?

"Why, getting to Singapore of course."

Is the response as he walks away at his usual slow, measured, limping pace. Or did she expect a clearer answer from him?

Elizabeth has ceased to expect any form of clarity from him. It irks her all the same, and she scowls at his retreating back before moving up and out, seeking fresh air.

Will left without saying goodbye.

Yes, she's going to be sulking about that for a while.

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