Categories > Movies > Pirates of the Caribbean > The Promise of Redemption
Chapter 5: Of Coats and Lust
0 reviewsTempers flare when appreciation runs dry. How can you let someone in when you've guarded your heart, and how can you keep hiding when all the rum's gone?
0Unrated
Author's Note: Great news, gang! Scooby and Shaggy solved the mystery of the Run-Away Fanfiction! Yes, that's right, I actually know where this story is going now. I made an outline! So, now I will definitely be working on it with more commitment, so you can expect some more linear submissions. And to think, it would have gotten away with it if it weren't for those meddling kids and their dumb chapter outlines!
*
Wandering into the woman's quarters at the inn, the man's caretaker lit a lantern in the middle of a small table. Grabbing some glasses and pouring them both some water, she opened a cabinet and withdrew some bread and plates. Placing them on the table, she took a seat and motioned for him to take the other.
"Just bread for dinner tonight. Anything else, and you might become ill," she told him as he seated himself. "I will take your questions now."
About damned time, he thought spitefully.
"Who are you?" he asked, not bothering to mask his frustration.
The woman took a drink. "My name is Juliana Bryar," she responded. "And yours?"
"James," he muttered, barely audible. He then asked, "Where are we?"
She noticed how he did not provide his last name, but she decided now was not the time to prod. Juliana motioned around her. "My room here at the Wind's Sail."
"This is a large room. Do you work here?"
She grinned. Very astute for a drunkard. She took another sip of water, placing her glass down and folding her hands on the table. "No, my good friend is the owner, so I get complimentary board whenever I so choose."
James nodded, ignoring his glass of water. "What am I doing here?"
Juliana heaved a sigh. She had been concocting this story ever since she put him to bed, and thanked her father for passing on his gift of successful deception. "I've seen you around before; starting bar fights, wandering around drunkenly, sleeping with the pigs. One night, I told myself, 'If I ever see that man in the pigpen again, I swear by my mother's grave that I will march in there and straighten him out.'" She shrugged. "And so, being a woman of my word, I did. Or I am, rather."
James seemed to mull this over for a moment. "The tale sounds charitable and kind, and you were all but while taking me down to the shore." He scowled.
She leaned over the table. "Put yourself in my position, James. You've just woken up a man suffering from the devil of a hangover, a man you know is most likely stubborn and ungrateful. Do you coddle him and whisper sweet nothings until he rises of his own accord, or do you remain adamant and not waste time?"
The bearded man had to glower at the logic. "Very well. Where are my clothes?"
"Your clothes are in a basket near the door, and I will be disposing of them tomorrow. Your sword and pistol are locked away in a secure place, the whereabouts of which I will not disclose."
He frowned. "And my jacket?"
"With your other clothes, to be thrown out tomorrow," she replied.
"Don't."
Juliana looked up, curious. "What?"
"Don't destroy my jacket. Feel free to burn everything else, but I want my jacket," he told her, uncompromising.
She eyed him for a few moments. "Your jacket... there was something odd about it. Gold with blue trim, reminiscent of blue coats of high ranking Naval officers. I don't suppose you stole that jacket?" she insinuated lightly.
James was enraged. He stood suddenly, shaking the table violently and towering over her. Impulsively, she shrank back into her chair. "I did no such thing! How dare you even suggest the notion that I would -" he was too furious to continue, his face contorted in anger. He turned away from her, stalking towards the window.
Her pulse slowing, Juliana stood from her chair. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know." She was cautious as how to tread, not knowing why she struck such a discordant chord. "Do you mind if I ask where you got it, then?"
James's tone was venomous and bitter. "Yes, I do mind."
She shrugged, uncertain. "I apologize for what I said, it wasn't my place. Perhaps we can simply return to talking?"
"No, I don't think we can," he replied icily.
Juliana's eyes narrowed. "James, honestly, I am sorry for whatever I said, but I'll not be treated like a subordinate simply because I didn't know any better."
"You should have known better."
"Why?" she yelled. "Why should I have known better? Bloody Hell, James, I just met you! I don't know anything about you, how should I know what is right to say and what is not?"
"I'll not be talked down to by a woman!" James shouted, turning to face her with a poisonous glare.
His last statement ignited a fire within Juliana. "Oh, so you'll not accept the apology of a woman but you'll run around Tortuga having drunken intercourse with common whores and drinking every drop of rum you can find? One can truly bring into question your moral priorities, James!"
"Do not stand there and pretend as if you understand! You know nothing about me!" he retorted.
"Because you won't let me! For the love of God, James, I've been charitable, I'm trying to help you, and you won't give me any Goddamn opportunity!"
"MY LIFE IS NOT FOR YOU TO FIX!" James bellowed.
"Oh, but it's for you to fuck up?" she countered.
They both stood there for a moment, teetering dangerously on the edge physical violence. As much as Juliana willed it not to, her mind somehow found a different route through which to channel her anger.
He looks incredibly attractive when he's angry.
James glared daggers at Juliana, and for a moment thought he saw something besides blind rage flicker in her gaze. It was then that his thoughts took a rather alarming detour.
She's surprisingly sexy when she's furious.
Juliana decided it was time to end the inevitable sexual tension between them and let themselves simmer down. "I'm going to bed. You can sleep wherever you like. The door is locked, as are the windows, so don't bother. Goodnight, James."
Not protesting her departure, James watched Juliana march into her bedroom and slam the door. He heard the familiar click of the key in the lock and was grateful she was gone, for multiple reasons.
Grabbing a quilt from the sofa, he angrily laid himself down and shut his eyes tightly. Much to his dismay, his thoughts kept drifting back to the way her blue eyes sparked with rage, the way her small chest heaved in anger, the way her lips spat out venomous counters to his arguments.
Women, he thought bitterly, shoving his head under the blanket and trying to think very hard of his grandmother.
*
Wandering into the woman's quarters at the inn, the man's caretaker lit a lantern in the middle of a small table. Grabbing some glasses and pouring them both some water, she opened a cabinet and withdrew some bread and plates. Placing them on the table, she took a seat and motioned for him to take the other.
"Just bread for dinner tonight. Anything else, and you might become ill," she told him as he seated himself. "I will take your questions now."
About damned time, he thought spitefully.
"Who are you?" he asked, not bothering to mask his frustration.
The woman took a drink. "My name is Juliana Bryar," she responded. "And yours?"
"James," he muttered, barely audible. He then asked, "Where are we?"
She noticed how he did not provide his last name, but she decided now was not the time to prod. Juliana motioned around her. "My room here at the Wind's Sail."
"This is a large room. Do you work here?"
She grinned. Very astute for a drunkard. She took another sip of water, placing her glass down and folding her hands on the table. "No, my good friend is the owner, so I get complimentary board whenever I so choose."
James nodded, ignoring his glass of water. "What am I doing here?"
Juliana heaved a sigh. She had been concocting this story ever since she put him to bed, and thanked her father for passing on his gift of successful deception. "I've seen you around before; starting bar fights, wandering around drunkenly, sleeping with the pigs. One night, I told myself, 'If I ever see that man in the pigpen again, I swear by my mother's grave that I will march in there and straighten him out.'" She shrugged. "And so, being a woman of my word, I did. Or I am, rather."
James seemed to mull this over for a moment. "The tale sounds charitable and kind, and you were all but while taking me down to the shore." He scowled.
She leaned over the table. "Put yourself in my position, James. You've just woken up a man suffering from the devil of a hangover, a man you know is most likely stubborn and ungrateful. Do you coddle him and whisper sweet nothings until he rises of his own accord, or do you remain adamant and not waste time?"
The bearded man had to glower at the logic. "Very well. Where are my clothes?"
"Your clothes are in a basket near the door, and I will be disposing of them tomorrow. Your sword and pistol are locked away in a secure place, the whereabouts of which I will not disclose."
He frowned. "And my jacket?"
"With your other clothes, to be thrown out tomorrow," she replied.
"Don't."
Juliana looked up, curious. "What?"
"Don't destroy my jacket. Feel free to burn everything else, but I want my jacket," he told her, uncompromising.
She eyed him for a few moments. "Your jacket... there was something odd about it. Gold with blue trim, reminiscent of blue coats of high ranking Naval officers. I don't suppose you stole that jacket?" she insinuated lightly.
James was enraged. He stood suddenly, shaking the table violently and towering over her. Impulsively, she shrank back into her chair. "I did no such thing! How dare you even suggest the notion that I would -" he was too furious to continue, his face contorted in anger. He turned away from her, stalking towards the window.
Her pulse slowing, Juliana stood from her chair. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know." She was cautious as how to tread, not knowing why she struck such a discordant chord. "Do you mind if I ask where you got it, then?"
James's tone was venomous and bitter. "Yes, I do mind."
She shrugged, uncertain. "I apologize for what I said, it wasn't my place. Perhaps we can simply return to talking?"
"No, I don't think we can," he replied icily.
Juliana's eyes narrowed. "James, honestly, I am sorry for whatever I said, but I'll not be treated like a subordinate simply because I didn't know any better."
"You should have known better."
"Why?" she yelled. "Why should I have known better? Bloody Hell, James, I just met you! I don't know anything about you, how should I know what is right to say and what is not?"
"I'll not be talked down to by a woman!" James shouted, turning to face her with a poisonous glare.
His last statement ignited a fire within Juliana. "Oh, so you'll not accept the apology of a woman but you'll run around Tortuga having drunken intercourse with common whores and drinking every drop of rum you can find? One can truly bring into question your moral priorities, James!"
"Do not stand there and pretend as if you understand! You know nothing about me!" he retorted.
"Because you won't let me! For the love of God, James, I've been charitable, I'm trying to help you, and you won't give me any Goddamn opportunity!"
"MY LIFE IS NOT FOR YOU TO FIX!" James bellowed.
"Oh, but it's for you to fuck up?" she countered.
They both stood there for a moment, teetering dangerously on the edge physical violence. As much as Juliana willed it not to, her mind somehow found a different route through which to channel her anger.
He looks incredibly attractive when he's angry.
James glared daggers at Juliana, and for a moment thought he saw something besides blind rage flicker in her gaze. It was then that his thoughts took a rather alarming detour.
She's surprisingly sexy when she's furious.
Juliana decided it was time to end the inevitable sexual tension between them and let themselves simmer down. "I'm going to bed. You can sleep wherever you like. The door is locked, as are the windows, so don't bother. Goodnight, James."
Not protesting her departure, James watched Juliana march into her bedroom and slam the door. He heard the familiar click of the key in the lock and was grateful she was gone, for multiple reasons.
Grabbing a quilt from the sofa, he angrily laid himself down and shut his eyes tightly. Much to his dismay, his thoughts kept drifting back to the way her blue eyes sparked with rage, the way her small chest heaved in anger, the way her lips spat out venomous counters to his arguments.
Women, he thought bitterly, shoving his head under the blanket and trying to think very hard of his grandmother.
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