"..."
Norrington took two steps back, choosing out of sight and out of mind once again.
"Elizabeth!" Wetherby called.
Whether she didn't hear him or was pretending not to, Elizabeth stayed wrapped in Turner's jacket, smiling sweetly at him.
They were close enough that it looked like she was leaning against him.
"Mr. Turner," Wetherby sighed. His daughter was practically handing herself over. He turned his attention to Turner instead.
This time, Turner couldn't ignore him.
Offending a future father-in-law wasn't an option.
"Elizabeth needs to go home and change," Wetherby said, switching tactics. "You don't want her catching a cold, do you?"
"Look. The weather's already changing."
He was right.
The sky, clear just moments ago, was now layered with dark clouds. The sea breeze had turned cold.
"...Of course," Turner replied immediately, guiding Elizabeth toward Wetherby.
"This is Mr. Turner's jacket," Wetherby said, gesturing for her to return it.
"No. I'm cold," Elizabeth said at once, shaking her head.
"You can wear mine," Wetherby said, already reaching for his coat.
"No, Father. You're old," Elizabeth said quickly. "You can't stand this wind. You'll get sick!"
Wetherby froze.
Being called old by his own daughter stung.
"Then wear mine," Norrington said, starting to remove his coat.
"No!" Elizabeth shot back. "A military uniform is sacred and inviolable. Wearing it would be sacrilege! Absolutely unforgivable! You wouldn't want me sent to the gallows, would you?"
Wetherby and Norrington: "..."
The air turned awkward.
Both men knew exactly what she was doing.
Neither could call her out.
Their pride wouldn't allow it.
"Heh."
Morin chuckled.
"Turner, we should go. The ceremony's over, and Miss Elizabeth needs rest. She'll come later to thank Captain Ethan Hunt for saving her life-and to return your jacket. Right?"
"Of course!" Elizabeth answered happily, seizing the opening.
That settled it.
"Excellent," Morin said, turning away.
Turner and Elizabeth exchanged a glance and smiled.
Turner followed Morin.
Jack, naturally, followed too, swaying along in his distinctive S-shaped walk.
"Oh, right," Morin said, stopping and turning back. "Congratulations, Mr. Norrington, on your promotion-from commodore to captain."
Norrington forced a smile and nodded.
Congratulations my ass.
If not for you, your employee, and your captain, I'd have confessed successfully.
He didn't say it.
He didn't dare.
After sensing Morin's aura, Norrington's wariness had skyrocketed.
Until Morin's background and intentions were clear, there was only one rule.
Do not offend him.
On the road.
Jack swayed, already drifting off course.
"I'm serious, Captain Jack Sparrow," Morin said without turning around. "I have a ship. And I want you to be the captain."
"Jack Sparrow?" Turner asked, confused. "I thought he was Ethan Hunt?"
"That was fake," Jack waved a hand. "I'm the great Captain Jack Sparrow. I'll get a ship, recruit pirates in Tortuga, and do all kinds of terrible things. Pillaging. Plundering."
"...Is he joking?" Turner asked.
"He's a bit ridiculous," Morin replied. "But some of it's true."
"Hey, what do you mean some?" Jack protested.
"...He's a pirate?" Turner finally realized.
"Yes," Morin said. "But not the kind who pillages for pleasure."
"Are you questioning the great Captain Jack Sparrow?" Jack circled him.
Morin ignored him and kept walking.
"Whether you are or not, you know better than anyone," Morin said. "Either way, I want you as my captain."
"A captain's ship belongs to him," Jack said seriously.
For someone who spent five movies chasing or protecting a ship, this mattered.
"My mistake," Morin replied calmly. "Your ship."
Turner froze.
That familiar feeling returned.
The unmistakable taste of money superpowers.
"...What did you say?" Jack rushed in front of Morin, pointing back and forth. "You're giving me a ship?"
"And a job," Morin added.
Jack clasped his hands. "I'm grateful. Truly. But I won't work for you. The great Captain Jack Sparrow is a free pirate."
He turned to leave.
Three seconds later, he stopped.
"...You're still giving me the ship, right?"
Turner: "!!!"
How was that even possible?
What shocked him more was Morin's answer.
"Of course."
"But are you sure you want to be a pirate," Morin continued, "and not a free, unconstrained sailor?"
"...What's the difference?" Jack muttered.
"You don't enjoy stealing. You enjoy the sea and treasure hunting. You steal to keep pirates loyal-to prevent mutiny. Even though they mutinied anyway. At your core, you're a good... pirate."
Morin's tone stayed even.
"Not everyone frees slaves they're paid to transport for the East India Company. You did. You lost your ship for it. You were branded. The Black Pearl was sunk. You made a deal with Davy Jones to raise her again."
"How many years did you trade? And how many do you have left, Captain Jack Sparrow?"
"...Wow," Jack said softly. "I'd forgotten some of that."
He stared at Morin.
"How do you know all this? Who are you?"
"Morin," he replied. "You can call me Boss."
"I didn't agree to that!" Jack snapped.
"What if I promise to solve all your problems," Morin said calmly. "Clear your name. Get Davy Jones off your back. Help you reclaim the Black Pearl. No restrictions. Total freedom. You just help me with some legal, harmless work in your spare time."
Jack swallowed.
"...I don't even know if that's possible," he said quietly. "What do you want me to do? Find treasure? The Fountain of Youth? Assassinate the Queen?"
"I want you to rob people."
"What?!" Jack recoiled. "You said legal!"
"Did I?" Morin asked.
Turner nodded reflexively.
"Then let me clarify," Morin said. "I want you to rob people legally."
"...Are you a wizard?" Jack asked.
"Not exactly," Morin replied. "I used to be a magician."
A wine flask appeared in his hand.
He tossed it over.
"Everything I said is true. If you're interested, follow me. I'll explain the rest."
Morin walked on.
Jack caught the flask, shook it, uncorked it, and sniffed.
His eyes lit up.
Top-grade rum.
"Boss!" Jack hurried after him. "Is this supply unlimited?"
Morin: "..."
Why didn't I just start with this?
Still, the deal had already been sealed.
The rum was just the final push.
"If you knew what I wanted you to do, you wouldn't ask," Morin said. "I own a tavern."
"Gulp-ah~" Jack took a long drink.
His sway became even more dramatic.
"I get it! When do I start? Can I manage the wine cellar?"
"That's not your job," Morin said. "But if you want... once the ship's ready."
"For the foreseeable future," he added, "what I want and what you want will align nicely."
Morin wanted cursed magic, special items, rare creatures.
Mermaids, included.
Without Jack, finding them would be a nightmare.
Ahem.
Fishing was just a cover.
What he really wanted...
Was a friend for his cat.
Pure intentions. Absolutely pure.
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