How strange to think that her life could be made forfeit and then not by such deceptively simple documents. Finger tracing the seal, Elizabeth swallows, nods and glances helplessly at the two remaining documents in his hand.

This might yet be news, and she plans to approach the subject of Will with caution. Even so, emotion flickers across her face.

"James Norrington and Will Turner?" One eyebrow arches in question, though it's a natural assumption. "I regret that they will not be able to collect theirs," she tells him in an even tone, like she's declining an invitation to a party. "James was killed. And my husband-"

Undecided as to what to say, she thins her lips and looks down, eyes grazing over the surface of the desk.