(no subject)

[bringmethatnpc]

It is, indeed, business as usual.

The windows are thrown open to catch the sea breeze -- Port Royal is, like all these places, damnably hot, and damp to boot -- and Beckett's office is as an oasis to the home-hungry eye. The furnishings perfect (if getting a little warped, thanks to the damp air), the map in progress --

This is Cutler Beckett's home away from home. This is, in effect, his home territory.

And he moves within it as though he owns the world.

Comments

[turned_captain]

Will regards the papers with some skepticism. He can't imagine Jack ever accepting them, and he finds it hard to believe Beckett would tink so either.

"Somehow I doubt Jack will consider employment the same as being free."

[bringmethatnpc]

"Freedom."

Beckett does not roll his eyes. With effort. Instead, he goes to the balcony.

Port Royal has changed in even the short time since he arrived; where once was sand and nothing useful there are now dwellings and the markings of industry. Noise and business.

"Jack Sparrow is a dying breed. The world is shrinking, the blank edges of the map filled in. Jack must find his place in the New World or perish. Not unlike you, Mr. Turner. You and your fiancée face the hangman’s noose."

[turned_captain]

This sounds to Will rather like a carefully plotted and well rehearsed speech. And Will only likes those when he's the one who's been rehearsing them.

But he does desparately want to save Elizabeth.

"So you get both Jack and the Black Pearl," he fills in.

[bringmethatnpc]

This is why Beckett is Lord Beckett, and Turner is a mere blacksmith with poor piratical tendencies.

"The Black Pearl?"

[turned_captain]

"The property you want that he possesses," Will explains.

He knows what that ship is capable off. Any admiral would want it under his command.

[bringmethatnpc]

"A ship?" A little disbelieving. "Hardly. The item in question is considerably smaller and far more valuable. Something Sparrow keeps on his person at all times. A compass."

That seems to elicit a reaction from Turner; Beckett's eyebrows rise fractionally. "Ah, you know it. Bring back that compass, or there’s no deal."

Turner is dull, not brainless; Beckett is fairly certain that Turner can figure out that 'no deal' yields 'dead'.

And if he can't...well. That doesn't make a very large difference, now, does it?