(no subject)

[bringmethatnpc]

The deck of the Black Pearl is full of activity as the crew hastens about, making ready to set sail. Whether hauling lines or hoisting sails, securing the longboats or tying down nets, everyone has work to do and is busily seeing to it.

Everyone, that is, save Will Turner, who is still lying unconscious on the deck.

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[bringmethatnpc]

This is the best defense of Jack Sparrow: a bottle of sand.

A bottle. Of sand.

Davy Jones eyes him and his jar dubiously, far from impressed -- until, suddenly, realization strikes, and his eyes fly wide.

They were already here when Jones arrived.

And Jack, it's possible, could have found the key.

[pirate_jack]

The relief is flooding through him, nearly overwhelming, and he's never felt so alive as he does here in this moment, sauntering along the deck of his Pearl and knowing that she's safe, that he's safe, that they're all safe--

"Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git? Well, look what I got. I've got a jar of di-irt, --"

He's practically caroling it in a sing-song fashion as he taunts Jones, intoxicated with the moment.

[turned_captain]

Will glances at Elizabeth.

Sometimes Jack's strange even by Captain Jack Sparrow standards.

[try_corsets]

Elizabeth glances at Will, one eyebrow arched.

Jack is... unique.





Perhaps the sun and stress are getting to him. There's daft, and then there's daft.

[pirate_jack]

"-- I've got a jar of di-irt, and guess what's inside it?" he finishes triumphantly, holding his jar high overhead.

Jack's bright smile is practically beatific.

Jones's... isn't.