Wheee, fic @.@
I had to write some Liz and Moog interactive goodness after reading one of teenybuffalo's stories. They're fun to play off each other.
Title: 25. Trouble Lurking
Author: Manikaitwing
Characters: Liz, Ragetti, Pintel, other pirates
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo, language)
Setting: AWE, Pirate Brethren council (Shipwreck Cove)
Liz cursed, making another turn that gained her no use, save but to make her more lost. Sparrow's directions had been vague at best but they'd sounded short. Didn't seem like she could get turned around if she kept close to the water's edge, but the nearest privy had been further in than it seemed. The dock was completely different when she came out of the twisting corridors of rotted wood and hull and she'd wandered around it hopelessly before going back into the nearest archway of barnacle-encrusted wreckage. Eventually she heard people's voices and pressed on through the alley-way, coming out of the other side with a breath of relief.
She immediately regretted taking that breath as the smell of fish slapped her in the face. Liz reeled from the smell, making a face as she passed first the stall selling the fish and then a weapons smithery. The workers hammering away at the iron smelled as though they'd bought the fish - to bathe themselves with rather than eat.
An arm suddenly yanked her aside and her space was invaded by another man's face. "Hello, girlie," he smiled, not letting go. "Wandering about for profit?"
Liz made a valiant attempt not to gag at his breath. She'd preferred the fish. "I'm not a whore if that's what you're implying," she snarled, already searching him for weak spots. He was a veritable fortress of muscle which meant he'd go down hard if she could make it happen. The trouble was making it happen. She winced as the hold on her arm tightened.
"Well, tha's a shame for you and a farthing saved for me. I woulda paid you for this." He pulled her closer despite her resistance.
And suddenly there were barriers between them. Liz stumbled back, seeing the flash of a knife come out of the giant's belt and his face creased into a snarl.
"Kindly belay yer courtin', sir. The lass is belongin' with us," one of her saviors spat.
"Aye," the other said boldly, trying to make himself even taller than he already was. The knife appeared under his nose and he recoiled a little, but stood his ground.
"Ye speak foolishly for a feller what's only got one ter spare," the larger of the three growled. "So be fluttering off now before I carve a piece off each one o' yer!"
"Easy does it," Pintel said, raising his hands and smiling unpleasantly. "Normally we gents wouldn't interfere with an honest night's work."
"Then bugger the hell off!"
"Lissen, will ye? She's not what yer after if ye fancy keepin' wot ye got."
"Wot d'yer mean by that?" The knife lowered an inch.
Pintel's voice was sly. "Jack Sparrow's lass," he confided knowingly, in a whisper audible to anyone with ears.
"Several times this past month," Ragetti added. Elizabeth flared, indignant and repulsed at what they were both saying.
"What?!" She shrieked in outrage, and then gasped, rubbing her side. Ragetti's elbows were viciously bony.
The brute frowned, looking her over. He cursed under his breath. "He don't look her type," he said, looking uneasy for some strange reason.
Pintel shrugged, nonchalant. "Yer funeral. Lad lissen, I'm an old salt round these parts, an' I can tell ye right as rain . . ." He pointed over the man's shoulder and he glanced. Elizabeth did too. "That lass right over there is about as vicious as ye can hope for in bed, but lord knows she don't open her port for filthy rats like Sparrow. But a man like you? Why, with enough gold she'll be in yer lap 'afore you can say Hail Mary."
The man was considering it, smirking. "Aye. With enough gold ye say?" His eye glinted and with a sigh, Pintel dug into his pocket, and handed over two gold pieces. "Fair enough gents. Keep your pieces and God save 'em the next time ye get in my way, friendly warning or no."
He stalked off with their gold, toward the woman in oriental garb. Liz stared at her, recognizing her from the Council. She was many things, but Ching Shih was definitely no prostitute. Ragetti and Pintel took her by the arms, spun her about face and started frog-marching her onto the right path from which she'd strayed.
Liz heard noises from behind her that actually made her wince. There was no need for them to hurry. The brute wouldn't be getting up for quite a few hours. Neither would he be pissing in a straight line for a while, if the sound of crunching anatomy could attest.
She looked at the two beside her and smiled gratefully. Rags returned it easily, though Pintel scowled clearly working up a lecture in his head.
"I'll pay your gold back, that's a promise," she told them.
"Ain't bout the gold, ye daft wench. Ragetti wouldn't 'ave let me sleep if ye got kipped. Got a thing for ye, he has!" he sneered.
Ragetti sputtered in denial, blushing. "N'ah! Pinters, that ain't true! You were the one what rushed off t-!!"
"STOW IT!" Pintel roared, swinging at his head. Ragetti yelped rubbing at his ear which Pintel hadn't quite missed.
Liz laughed. She kissed Pintel on the cheek, which left him stammering the rest of the way to the dock.
Title: 46. Family
Author: Manikaitwing
Characters: Liz, Will, Ragetti, Pintel
Rating: PG (mostly fluff with some language)
Setting: After . . . well, everything I expect. XD; Set during Christmas, cause I've got Christmas music on my playlist. o.o
Christmas. Nearly a year since she'd come back to Port Royal. The King's edict had cleared the names of many, allowing her to take care of matters that her father could no longer attend to. Rest his soul.
Elizabeth Swann was the Governor's daughter, but her station had only been partially restored by the King. Marriage to Will Turner - also pardoned - had helped her settle into her new life here. She was close enough to the sea to be content, and far enough away to ease her pain. Oh she loved it still, despite everything, but she wasn't going to see the same waters she had as a child. Not ever again.
Will put a hand on her back, reminding her of their guests. Old family friends, who'd come around in her father's time. They were here to reminisce, make toasts, talk about themselves. Elizabeth did him honor by welcoming them, drinking to their toasts and listening to their stories. Like a proper lady would.
Bugger proper ladies all to hell.
She fanned herself, having an itch under her corset that she would dearly love to forget herself and scratch. They hadn't had nearly enough toasts yet to blame it on the wine. Elizabeth turned to the window, restless, as Madame Hogarth talked on about her fifth husband's mansion. Or was it her husband's fifth mansion? Boring as a dead quail on a spit, she thought uncharitably.
As if in a dream, she watched the swirling snow and after a space could make out two figures approaching the house. One walked with a limping gait and the other used a cane, though it seemed more for show than necessity. They looked familiar. The lines of Elizabeth's face faded away as they grew nearer and she clutched her fan to her chest. Will was at her side, and she looked at him quickly, seeing the knowing smile playing at the edge of his lips.
"I ran into them at market. I trust you're still on good enough terms?" He nudged her to the door, playfully. "Go say hello then, Mrs. Turner."
The identities of the strangers confirmed, Elizabeth dropped her fan with a clatter and let out a girlish shriek that stopped Madam Hogarth in mid-sentence. Mr. Granberry started to choke on an olive. As Will dashed to avert disaster, pounding on the man's back, Elizabeth flew across the courtyard and tackled the man with the cane, sending them both into the snow. The man shouted in outrage, arms flailing in the snow, and the taller one doubled over laughing at the sight, falling to his own knees from mirth.
"Well I NEVER!" Madame Hogarth fussed, marching over to the window as Mr. Granberry wheezed, eyes watering. "Just what is that display, Mr. Turner?"
"Cousins," Will lied, smirking as he watched Elizabeth transfer her glomp to Signor Ragetti, whilst still perched on the stomach of Mr. Pintel.
"Get the bloody 'ell off me, girl! Ye weigh a blasted ton!" Pintel groaned, making a lopsided snow-angel with all his thrashing about.
Ragetti hugged her back, as tight as his bird-light bones could allow him. Together they got up and helped Pintel to his feet, Elizabeth laughing and crying at the same time. And also shivering. Ragetti's arms went 'round her, vainly trying to rub warmth back into her body and making soft noises of comfort.
"Ye run off withou' yer coat, Poppet-"
"Tryin' to give an' old man like me a heart-attack! Ye just the same devil as when ye were in breeches. Lookit you in dresses now, a fine sight you make!"
"Pint, stow it, she's cold!" Ragetti scolded, half-supporting her back into the house.
"Mind the language, Rags," Pintel warned him as they neared the steps. The front door opened, and Elizabeth, teeth chattering and tears frozen on her cheeks was enveloped in her warm fur coat and Will's arms. In short order, all were by the fire and drinking cider.
"But where have you been?" Elizabeth asked. Madame Hogarth, still mildly disgusted at being interrupted, sat at attention in the seat next to her husband. He was half-dozing in the fire's warmth. Mr. Granberry was conversing with the buffet table once again, though this time avoiding the olives.
Signor Ragetti glanced at his better half. Both were well-dressed, Pintel wearing a Ramillies wig of loose curls, while Ragetti had settled only for a narrow tricorn hat that accented his sharp cheekbones. He'd grown his hair out and tied it back fashionably.
"Why we've become patrons of charity, Mrs. Turner," Pintel answered, smirking. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, somehow doubting that very much. "What with all the wealth we came away with, only seemed fair we give back to the children of Port Royal."
Ragetti nodded, having folded his arms to keep his fingernails away from his teeth. Madame Hogarth humphed. "Wealth? I don't suppose you cousins shared it from the same source as Mr. and Mrs. Turner?"
Ragetti scowled, less oblivious to catty games than Pintel was. The challenge helped him recover from his anxiety. "Beggin' your pardon, Madame, but where anybody's wealth comes from is irrelevant, so long as we give back what God has given to those more fortunate than others." He switched the topic before the woman could reply.
"Reminds me, Pint, we ought to pop by old church and see to it they got their stove replaced. Can't have the little ones learning while their toes are frozen off."
"Surely you heard about money being raised for the schoolhouse, Madam?" Mister Pintel asked her. Signor Ragetti allowed himself to look smug. Only a little.
Hogarth stammered a response, flustered. In her mumbling was a promise to write a cheque to the establishment before the end of the month. She drowned the rest in her wine cup and got up to seek less 'pushy' guests. Mr. Hogarth snored on.
"Ragetti's idea," Pintel explained to Elizabeth, who was still agog at their apparent turn-around. "He was all up about doin' a good deed what all the swag we earned. So 'e wants the little tykes able to read, no matter their station. And do sums." Pintel made a face. "I 'spose I might've been better off if I learned sums early on," he said under his breath.
Elizabeth laughed, flushed still with joy. Will smiled at her, hands on the back of the chair as he watched her mirth. She hadn't really been the same since she left the sea. Now he'd managed to bring part of the sea - the good memories of it - to her.
He blinked with a start as he realized Ragetti's eyes were on him. Well, eye. The glass eye in his right socket was only discernable by the shine of the fire's light, and even then you had to study him closely. Ragetti looked down at Elizabeth and smiled. "You're with child." he stated, quiet enough for the Turners to hear.
Elizabeth stopped giggling and looked up. "What?" she asked. She glanced at Will, who smiled awkwardly. He remembered Ragetti sometimes spoke out without meaning to and wondered if he should politely ignore it. Elizabeth wasn't tactful.
"How do you think so?" she asked, curious. Ragetti was indeed blushing, but he didn't avoid her gaze or apologize.
"Ye - You just look it. I just know."
"I . . ." Elizabeth was at a loss.
"Well, that's . . . wonderful if it's true," Will said, answering for her as best as he could. "But no physician has determined that yet."
Pintel looked up at Ragetti, then Elizabeth. He smirked. "Ye think Poppet would let a physician get near enough to tell? Trust me on this. Ol' Rags ain't never been wrong about such a thing 'afore. Ye best start on that nursery now."
Will was flummoxed, failing to notice the smile of joy spreading over Elizabeth's face. She kept her arms on the chair, wanting to put a hand on her stomach but not wanting to start any rumor, if it was indeed unfounded.
"Me mum had fifteen kids 'afore I went on the sea," Ragetti was saying, voice low and forgetting pretty turn of phrase. "Trus' me, I know how she was then and how you are now. One an' the same, Poppet. If it ain't a babe comin' out of ye in less than a year, I'll be a monkey's uncle."
Elizabeth looked up at her husband. "Will, we've got an extra room to spare. Why not?"
"Now Elizabeth, let's not . . ." He gave up, seeing her expression. "The room with the window facing the sea?" He could already read her mind. She beamed at him, confirming it.
"And you two," she said, turning her head, "Had better stick around. You're the godfathers."
"We ain't goin' nowhere," Ragetti promised her. "Are we, Pint?"
"Wind's blown us here since late fall and so far it's been pleasant enough. Ye don't get any blasted monsoons here, do you?" Pintel appeared to consider it. He wasn't fooling anyone. "Oh hell's hounds, why not?"
He grinned fiercely, and Ragetti laughed in delight. Will raised his glass to them and they in turn raised their own, to him and Elizabeth and their unborn babe.
It was the best toast made in all December.
Title: 25. Trouble Lurking
Author: Manikaitwing
Characters: Liz, Ragetti, Pintel, other pirates
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo, language)
Setting: AWE, Pirate Brethren council (Shipwreck Cove)
Liz cursed, making another turn that gained her no use, save but to make her more lost. Sparrow's directions had been vague at best but they'd sounded short. Didn't seem like she could get turned around if she kept close to the water's edge, but the nearest privy had been further in than it seemed. The dock was completely different when she came out of the twisting corridors of rotted wood and hull and she'd wandered around it hopelessly before going back into the nearest archway of barnacle-encrusted wreckage. Eventually she heard people's voices and pressed on through the alley-way, coming out of the other side with a breath of relief.
She immediately regretted taking that breath as the smell of fish slapped her in the face. Liz reeled from the smell, making a face as she passed first the stall selling the fish and then a weapons smithery. The workers hammering away at the iron smelled as though they'd bought the fish - to bathe themselves with rather than eat.
An arm suddenly yanked her aside and her space was invaded by another man's face. "Hello, girlie," he smiled, not letting go. "Wandering about for profit?"
Liz made a valiant attempt not to gag at his breath. She'd preferred the fish. "I'm not a whore if that's what you're implying," she snarled, already searching him for weak spots. He was a veritable fortress of muscle which meant he'd go down hard if she could make it happen. The trouble was making it happen. She winced as the hold on her arm tightened.
"Well, tha's a shame for you and a farthing saved for me. I woulda paid you for this." He pulled her closer despite her resistance.
And suddenly there were barriers between them. Liz stumbled back, seeing the flash of a knife come out of the giant's belt and his face creased into a snarl.
"Kindly belay yer courtin', sir. The lass is belongin' with us," one of her saviors spat.
"Aye," the other said boldly, trying to make himself even taller than he already was. The knife appeared under his nose and he recoiled a little, but stood his ground.
"Ye speak foolishly for a feller what's only got one ter spare," the larger of the three growled. "So be fluttering off now before I carve a piece off each one o' yer!"
"Easy does it," Pintel said, raising his hands and smiling unpleasantly. "Normally we gents wouldn't interfere with an honest night's work."
"Then bugger the hell off!"
"Lissen, will ye? She's not what yer after if ye fancy keepin' wot ye got."
"Wot d'yer mean by that?" The knife lowered an inch.
Pintel's voice was sly. "Jack Sparrow's lass," he confided knowingly, in a whisper audible to anyone with ears.
"Several times this past month," Ragetti added. Elizabeth flared, indignant and repulsed at what they were both saying.
"What?!" She shrieked in outrage, and then gasped, rubbing her side. Ragetti's elbows were viciously bony.
The brute frowned, looking her over. He cursed under his breath. "He don't look her type," he said, looking uneasy for some strange reason.
Pintel shrugged, nonchalant. "Yer funeral. Lad lissen, I'm an old salt round these parts, an' I can tell ye right as rain . . ." He pointed over the man's shoulder and he glanced. Elizabeth did too. "That lass right over there is about as vicious as ye can hope for in bed, but lord knows she don't open her port for filthy rats like Sparrow. But a man like you? Why, with enough gold she'll be in yer lap 'afore you can say Hail Mary."
The man was considering it, smirking. "Aye. With enough gold ye say?" His eye glinted and with a sigh, Pintel dug into his pocket, and handed over two gold pieces. "Fair enough gents. Keep your pieces and God save 'em the next time ye get in my way, friendly warning or no."
He stalked off with their gold, toward the woman in oriental garb. Liz stared at her, recognizing her from the Council. She was many things, but Ching Shih was definitely no prostitute. Ragetti and Pintel took her by the arms, spun her about face and started frog-marching her onto the right path from which she'd strayed.
Liz heard noises from behind her that actually made her wince. There was no need for them to hurry. The brute wouldn't be getting up for quite a few hours. Neither would he be pissing in a straight line for a while, if the sound of crunching anatomy could attest.
She looked at the two beside her and smiled gratefully. Rags returned it easily, though Pintel scowled clearly working up a lecture in his head.
"I'll pay your gold back, that's a promise," she told them.
"Ain't bout the gold, ye daft wench. Ragetti wouldn't 'ave let me sleep if ye got kipped. Got a thing for ye, he has!" he sneered.
Ragetti sputtered in denial, blushing. "N'ah! Pinters, that ain't true! You were the one what rushed off t-!!"
"STOW IT!" Pintel roared, swinging at his head. Ragetti yelped rubbing at his ear which Pintel hadn't quite missed.
Liz laughed. She kissed Pintel on the cheek, which left him stammering the rest of the way to the dock.
Title: 46. Family
Author: Manikaitwing
Characters: Liz, Will, Ragetti, Pintel
Rating: PG (mostly fluff with some language)
Setting: After . . . well, everything I expect. XD; Set during Christmas, cause I've got Christmas music on my playlist. o.o
Christmas. Nearly a year since she'd come back to Port Royal. The King's edict had cleared the names of many, allowing her to take care of matters that her father could no longer attend to. Rest his soul.
Elizabeth Swann was the Governor's daughter, but her station had only been partially restored by the King. Marriage to Will Turner - also pardoned - had helped her settle into her new life here. She was close enough to the sea to be content, and far enough away to ease her pain. Oh she loved it still, despite everything, but she wasn't going to see the same waters she had as a child. Not ever again.
Will put a hand on her back, reminding her of their guests. Old family friends, who'd come around in her father's time. They were here to reminisce, make toasts, talk about themselves. Elizabeth did him honor by welcoming them, drinking to their toasts and listening to their stories. Like a proper lady would.
Bugger proper ladies all to hell.
She fanned herself, having an itch under her corset that she would dearly love to forget herself and scratch. They hadn't had nearly enough toasts yet to blame it on the wine. Elizabeth turned to the window, restless, as Madame Hogarth talked on about her fifth husband's mansion. Or was it her husband's fifth mansion? Boring as a dead quail on a spit, she thought uncharitably.
As if in a dream, she watched the swirling snow and after a space could make out two figures approaching the house. One walked with a limping gait and the other used a cane, though it seemed more for show than necessity. They looked familiar. The lines of Elizabeth's face faded away as they grew nearer and she clutched her fan to her chest. Will was at her side, and she looked at him quickly, seeing the knowing smile playing at the edge of his lips.
"I ran into them at market. I trust you're still on good enough terms?" He nudged her to the door, playfully. "Go say hello then, Mrs. Turner."
The identities of the strangers confirmed, Elizabeth dropped her fan with a clatter and let out a girlish shriek that stopped Madam Hogarth in mid-sentence. Mr. Granberry started to choke on an olive. As Will dashed to avert disaster, pounding on the man's back, Elizabeth flew across the courtyard and tackled the man with the cane, sending them both into the snow. The man shouted in outrage, arms flailing in the snow, and the taller one doubled over laughing at the sight, falling to his own knees from mirth.
"Well I NEVER!" Madame Hogarth fussed, marching over to the window as Mr. Granberry wheezed, eyes watering. "Just what is that display, Mr. Turner?"
"Cousins," Will lied, smirking as he watched Elizabeth transfer her glomp to Signor Ragetti, whilst still perched on the stomach of Mr. Pintel.
"Get the bloody 'ell off me, girl! Ye weigh a blasted ton!" Pintel groaned, making a lopsided snow-angel with all his thrashing about.
Ragetti hugged her back, as tight as his bird-light bones could allow him. Together they got up and helped Pintel to his feet, Elizabeth laughing and crying at the same time. And also shivering. Ragetti's arms went 'round her, vainly trying to rub warmth back into her body and making soft noises of comfort.
"Ye run off withou' yer coat, Poppet-"
"Tryin' to give an' old man like me a heart-attack! Ye just the same devil as when ye were in breeches. Lookit you in dresses now, a fine sight you make!"
"Pint, stow it, she's cold!" Ragetti scolded, half-supporting her back into the house.
"Mind the language, Rags," Pintel warned him as they neared the steps. The front door opened, and Elizabeth, teeth chattering and tears frozen on her cheeks was enveloped in her warm fur coat and Will's arms. In short order, all were by the fire and drinking cider.
"But where have you been?" Elizabeth asked. Madame Hogarth, still mildly disgusted at being interrupted, sat at attention in the seat next to her husband. He was half-dozing in the fire's warmth. Mr. Granberry was conversing with the buffet table once again, though this time avoiding the olives.
Signor Ragetti glanced at his better half. Both were well-dressed, Pintel wearing a Ramillies wig of loose curls, while Ragetti had settled only for a narrow tricorn hat that accented his sharp cheekbones. He'd grown his hair out and tied it back fashionably.
"Why we've become patrons of charity, Mrs. Turner," Pintel answered, smirking. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, somehow doubting that very much. "What with all the wealth we came away with, only seemed fair we give back to the children of Port Royal."
Ragetti nodded, having folded his arms to keep his fingernails away from his teeth. Madame Hogarth humphed. "Wealth? I don't suppose you cousins shared it from the same source as Mr. and Mrs. Turner?"
Ragetti scowled, less oblivious to catty games than Pintel was. The challenge helped him recover from his anxiety. "Beggin' your pardon, Madame, but where anybody's wealth comes from is irrelevant, so long as we give back what God has given to those more fortunate than others." He switched the topic before the woman could reply.
"Reminds me, Pint, we ought to pop by old church and see to it they got their stove replaced. Can't have the little ones learning while their toes are frozen off."
"Surely you heard about money being raised for the schoolhouse, Madam?" Mister Pintel asked her. Signor Ragetti allowed himself to look smug. Only a little.
Hogarth stammered a response, flustered. In her mumbling was a promise to write a cheque to the establishment before the end of the month. She drowned the rest in her wine cup and got up to seek less 'pushy' guests. Mr. Hogarth snored on.
"Ragetti's idea," Pintel explained to Elizabeth, who was still agog at their apparent turn-around. "He was all up about doin' a good deed what all the swag we earned. So 'e wants the little tykes able to read, no matter their station. And do sums." Pintel made a face. "I 'spose I might've been better off if I learned sums early on," he said under his breath.
Elizabeth laughed, flushed still with joy. Will smiled at her, hands on the back of the chair as he watched her mirth. She hadn't really been the same since she left the sea. Now he'd managed to bring part of the sea - the good memories of it - to her.
He blinked with a start as he realized Ragetti's eyes were on him. Well, eye. The glass eye in his right socket was only discernable by the shine of the fire's light, and even then you had to study him closely. Ragetti looked down at Elizabeth and smiled. "You're with child." he stated, quiet enough for the Turners to hear.
Elizabeth stopped giggling and looked up. "What?" she asked. She glanced at Will, who smiled awkwardly. He remembered Ragetti sometimes spoke out without meaning to and wondered if he should politely ignore it. Elizabeth wasn't tactful.
"How do you think so?" she asked, curious. Ragetti was indeed blushing, but he didn't avoid her gaze or apologize.
"Ye - You just look it. I just know."
"I . . ." Elizabeth was at a loss.
"Well, that's . . . wonderful if it's true," Will said, answering for her as best as he could. "But no physician has determined that yet."
Pintel looked up at Ragetti, then Elizabeth. He smirked. "Ye think Poppet would let a physician get near enough to tell? Trust me on this. Ol' Rags ain't never been wrong about such a thing 'afore. Ye best start on that nursery now."
Will was flummoxed, failing to notice the smile of joy spreading over Elizabeth's face. She kept her arms on the chair, wanting to put a hand on her stomach but not wanting to start any rumor, if it was indeed unfounded.
"Me mum had fifteen kids 'afore I went on the sea," Ragetti was saying, voice low and forgetting pretty turn of phrase. "Trus' me, I know how she was then and how you are now. One an' the same, Poppet. If it ain't a babe comin' out of ye in less than a year, I'll be a monkey's uncle."
Elizabeth looked up at her husband. "Will, we've got an extra room to spare. Why not?"
"Now Elizabeth, let's not . . ." He gave up, seeing her expression. "The room with the window facing the sea?" He could already read her mind. She beamed at him, confirming it.
"And you two," she said, turning her head, "Had better stick around. You're the godfathers."
"We ain't goin' nowhere," Ragetti promised her. "Are we, Pint?"
"Wind's blown us here since late fall and so far it's been pleasant enough. Ye don't get any blasted monsoons here, do you?" Pintel appeared to consider it. He wasn't fooling anyone. "Oh hell's hounds, why not?"
He grinned fiercely, and Ragetti laughed in delight. Will raised his glass to them and they in turn raised their own, to him and Elizabeth and their unborn babe.
It was the best toast made in all December.