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-oOo- LINEN & PLATE -oOo-

"What in the world…?" The innkeeper watches Barbossa haul in a wheeled trunk full of who-knew-what; laughs as he flings his hat with a practiced flip of the wrist to land on a hook on the wall. "Planning on moving in?"

Ye don't know how many times I've thought t' do just that. "Not just yet, Dove, though it be a most temptin' proposition." Barbossa rolls the trunk into a corner of the parlor. "See now, not everythin' we take be gold an' fancies, as ye well know." He lifts the lid. "Got some gold an' indigo out of our last action, but mostly, th' ship were full of household furnishin's an' other such goods. We'll sell or trade most of 'em, but I know ye been needin' plate for yer table an' linen for yer beds. This ain't all I have for ye, but 'tis a start… an' ye may keep th' trunk, too. Useful wi' th' wheels on it, d' ye not think?"

The innkeeper's mouth drops open as she sorts through the linens; not the plain cloth she has in her house, but beautifully embroidered and never used. "Looks like you made off with someone's trousseau," she comments. "What did you do with the owner?"

"Didn't kill her or th' crew — 'least, not them what didn't fight me directly — if that be what ye're askin'," Barbossa replies. "There weren't nothin' in it for me t' be a bastard t' a scared little girl, so I gave 'em food an' water an' set 'em adrift in their cockboats. Close t' land," he adds. "I 'magine they be in port at this very moment, a-cursin' me name."

"Mm." The innkeeper picks up a heavily-embroidered tablecover and presses it to her cheek. "You're going to get a reputation for mercy if you don't watch out."

Barbossa had anticipated her question and lied in his answer, not wanting to cause her upset, the lie being the only mercy he's actually shown. Fact was, he and his men had slaughtered every last soul aboard the ship, including the bride — who was no "little girl," but an older and very annoying woman — before raiding it for valuable goods and all its ship's supplies, then burning it to the waterline. "Nah," he says now. "An' anybody what thinks that'll wish he thought diff'rent when he comes up against me."

He kneels beside the innkeeper as she pulls out stacks of linen and then gets to the china and silver and other fine plate. "You tell any lodger what wants t' steal this that I'll be keepin' an eye on it," he says.

Once he's made another trip to the docks to fetch a second trunk, the pair of them set to unloading all the linen and plate and putting it away. "What d' ye wish t' reserve for yerself?" Barbossa asks as the innkeeper riffles though a pile of linens, each lovelier than the last. "Which be th' prettiest t' yer eye? Choose it, an' I'll help ye put it on our bed."

"Sure you don't just want to rumple it up?" she asks with a grin.

"Sure ye don't want me to?"

"Who said that?"

They don't make it upstairs, Barbossa not being the least averse to taking his pleasure in whatever space is closest to hand. "Up ye go, Dove," he says, maneuvering the innkeeper into a nearby broom cupboard, then performing the dexterous feat of lifting both her and her skirts and unbuttoning his breeches, all at the same time. "Up, up, up… We'll rumple th' bed later, but I bain't waitin' for that…"

Cora, passing by, smothers her laughter as she presses her ear to the door, listening to the mops creak and the suddenly-not-so-daunting captain whimper and moan. You ain't so much, big man, she snickers to herself. You sound jus' like every man an' boy I ever known.

She manages to scoot back to the kitchen a few moments before Barbossa emerges from the cupboard, still panting and sweating and with his breeches rebuttoned not quite correctly. "Th' coast be clear; come on out," he tells the innkeeper, who is trying to dab at herself with her apron while lowering her skirts into place. "Here now, lass, ne'er mind that."

"What?! Crikey, Hector, I'm dripping!"

That gets her a snicker and a tickle under the chin. "Heh, well… I been savin' it up since last I saw ye, darlin'." Barbossa wiggles his eyebrows, adding, "An' I got lots more where that came from whene'er ye want it. Ye've only t' say."

The innkeeper gives him a smile, sweet and saucy and loving, and so desperately longing that it breaks his heart, especially when she lays her head on his chest and wraps both arms around his waist, whispering, "Ohhh, dear Hector… you've brought me so many beautiful things, but out of everything you've ever given me, I think you're the very best present of all."

-oOo- FIN -oOo-