roaming: (barbossa_awe_014)
ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ↠ ʜᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ ʙᴀʀʙᴏssᴀ ([personal profile] roaming) wrote in [community profile] brethrencourt 2017-05-05 03:13 am (UTC)

no not you

[He'd lost track of counting the hours he'd been awake at around thirty-six. It had started, of course, well before reaching the Cove. And then Mrs. Turner deciding to declare war on Davy bloody Jones like that was remotely a brilliant idea. And so he, and Jack, and the crew had spent all the night refitting and gearing up for war, losing what wasn't helpful, and packing on more powder and shot, and-

Well, being told there's one room left, in an inn he's stayed at plenty of times in his life, and the person standing next to him being Jack Sparrow-

He's not in the slightest surprised when Jack snatches the key and attempts a run for it. Not at all. and he's considered the same thing, going to the Pearl and grabbing the captain's tent and setting it up and sleeping there, as well, because at this point his vision is blurry and his whole body aches, not just the bruises and cuts and battered parts of him, his normally-achey leg singing a song of pure misery. He's not surprised at all that Jack would be that goddamn selfish and do that.

But what he does know is that it will be a cold day in Hell before he lets Jack get away with it. Aching leg or no, his strides are longer, his reach is longer, and he has little compunction about catching up and trying to shove a foot under Jack's feet to trip him up.]


Like hell y'are, Jack Sparrow, that room be mine, I was here first.

[It's a simple plan. Send Jack face first into the floor. Take the key. Obtain room. Lock Jack out. ??? Profit.]

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