(no subject)

[bringmethatnpc]

The prisoners reach through the bars, whistling and coaxing. It's a rare thing to have such a pretty inmate about. For some of them, it's the closest they've ever gotten to a lady of Elizabeth's stature.

They wonder if what's under her skirts is the same as what's under more common wenches.

"Come closer, we don’t bite!" leers one, waggling his filthy fingers at Elizabeth.

Comments

[bringmethatnpc]

Enraged bride?

Frustrated virgin, more like.

"So I did." If there is amusement, it's very, very well hidden as he signs the letters, and presses his seal into the small puddle of hot wax. "A marriage interrupted. Or fate intervenes. You’re making great efforts to ensure Jack Sparrow’s freedom."

[try_corsets]

No argument from this quarter.

Eyes narrowing, Elizabeth snatches at the letters.

Coldly, "these aren’t going to Jack!"

Of course not.

[bringmethatnpc]

Shame, then, that Beckett's got a tight grip.

"Really?" Equally cold. "To ensure Mr. Turner’s freedom. I’ll still want that compass. Consider that into your calculations."

[try_corsets]

He eventually lets go. Elizabeth eyes him with distaste, but she has what she needed. Now in possession of the signed and stamped letters of marque, she levels the pistol at Beckett and slips into the night, keeping to the shadows.