try_corsets | (no subject)

(no subject)

Singapore.

It's odd, Elizabeth thinks, how the name had once had a fairytale-like quality to it and had represented a place she was destined only to visit in books or the stories of officers who passed through Port Royal.

Singapore feels very real now, tangible and close enough that Elizabeth keeps a weather eye on the horizon, harboring hopes of at last seeing land.

Everyone on board is aware of how impatient she is to get on with things. A man -- or a woman -- would have to be blind to miss the way she's coiled tightly, dangerously, whether pacing the ship or sitting very still for long periods of time.

There's been too much waiting.

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Well, Mal's just the man to solve that, walking up behind Elizabeth and thumping down a large leather pack.

"Christmas time," he grins.

The pack is eyed with the requisite skeptical expression, though a quick indrawn breath and parted lips betray her curiosity.

"Have we been at sea so very long, then?"

She has to stop and think about that for a moment. The months are all muddled, thanks to her extended stay in Milliways.

"God I hope not. It shouldn't even be August yet, at home."

Unrolling the folds of the pack, Mal reveals a mare's-leg and a hunting knife.

"The former owners of this vessel seem to have forgotten a few things."

Elizabeth's eyes light up, and she is, suffice it to say, quite enthralled with this unexpected bounty.

"Did they?" She smiles, slow and satisfied, as she picks up the hunting knife, turns it over, and quickly sets it aside to examine the mare's leg. "This will undoubtedly prove useful."

A quick flick of Mal's hand upward. "Stand up, I want to see somethin'."

Mal continues pulling out objects and weapons from the back -- grenades, more knives, smaller pistols, and several harnesses.

One harness in particular consists of two crossed chest-belts; it's also the smallest harness visible.

"Try this on."

It really is like Christmas, only better. Each weapon Elizabeth sees raises her internal estimation of their chances of success and survival. Unusually compliant, she does as Mal directs, slipping her arms into the gray harness and attaching it.

"How much will it hold?" she asks with obvious approval.

Her eyes fall on the grenades with keen interest.

"I've got to say...least four pistols with ammunition carryin' for the larger pieces. Maybe more."

Holding up two of the smaller pistols, "These in a fight if you run out o' bullets you drop and move on. Ain't worth going back for."

Toward the back of the right-hand belt are small loops, and Mal picks up two grenades. "Always. Remember. Grenades."

He learns.

Nodding, Elizabeth reaches for one of the smaller pistols and mimes clubbing someone over the head with the butt -- much more effective than the bottle she used on Norrington in Tortuga -- then slips it into the harness.

"Always remember grenades," she repeats, reaching behind her and looking over her shoulder to get a better idea of what she can carry. "I haven't thrown one before."

"Got to say they're pretty easy, all you've got to do is pull up on the --- "

Then Mal pays attention to the actual shape and construction of the grenades in the belt.

"Light the fuse? Damn, are grenades more fun in my 'verse."

"I think I'd find a great deal more fun in your 'verse," she announces loftily, "such as the speed of travel."

Scrutinizing a fuse, she sighs.

"If I can't find a lamp or candle, I suppose I could always strike a match on Pintel's head."

Mal can't help but snicker. "Point. We'd already be done by now with my ship. Or at least a shuttle."

Picking up the mare's-leg again, Mal finds a harness that fits, and gets down on one knee, heading for Elizabeth's thigh without any real explanation.

"I do love the sea, but given our present circumstances I think I would prefer... Mal?"

Elizabeth yelps in surprise, reflexively dropping a hand to his shoulder.

Mal looks upward, holding the holster aloft. "Married, remember? It's a leg-strap. Relax," he adds with a smile.

Mal checks to make sure the mare's-leg hadn't been left loaded by whoever owned it before sliding it into its holster and strapping it around the midpoint of Elizabeth's thigh.

"It's going to be awkward learnin' how to walk without giving away the weight. I'd almost recommend wearin' some kind of strap on the other leg to make it feel more even, no matter if you're carryin' something else or no. Try to unholster it."

Well, this is interesting.

Without moving her head, she clears her throat and surreptitiously checks the deck for Will, finding that task infinitely easier than looking down and watching Mal work near her thigh.

Once everything is attached, however, she forgets to be startled and gives each leg a shake, feeling the weight differential. She nods at his suggestion, reaching down, around a bit, and...

It's not very smooth, but she manages.

"Doing that while it's concealed might prove... challenging."

"That's not what that's there for. Small guns first, then once you're behind cover you lob a grenade or two, then dig out this girl."

"A good plan," Elizabeth declares, nodding firmly and then giving him a somewhat sly smile. "But tell me...

"If I'm wearing all this, is there enough left for you and the rest of the crew?"

It's hopeful. Elizabeth likes the idea of being so well armed.

A smirk. "This is only the one bag. Plus, I brought a fair amount o' weaponry for myself."

Mal shows his sidearm in his holster, Will's flintlock at his back, and the knife in his boot.

"This normally suits me well enough."

"Good."

She doesn't bother to disguise her pleasure, and says nothing more for a moment as she adjusts the harness and the weapons now contained therein.

At last: "Have you set some aside for Tonks, just in case?"

"I'll doublecheck, I promise. I'm hopin' to be back with her before you meet up with Sao Feng's folk anyhow."

Elizabeth nods, the line of her mouth tightening as she clenches her jaw.

She wants to ask him to watch out for Will. She wants to ask, but the desire to do so is warring with her desire to avoid any further questions as to their relationship.

Eyes unfocused, she reaches down to feel the mare's leg, now returned to its holster, and nods again.

"That would be good. It will be easier to meet up before than after if something goes wrong," she says grimly.

Mal nods, but stops after a moment.

"Can I offer a piece of advice?"

Her head snaps up.

Watching him steadily, she waits a long moment before replying.

"Yes."

"From a pirate that's quasi-married up the social ladder? There's enough problems with that without -- "

( " -- I'm too weak for this -- ")

" -- separating oneself further."

Beat. "That's all."

There's a hesitation, a brief moment when she looks as if she's going to upbraid him for his audacity and interference, but then she turns away and looks out at the ocean.

"I know." It's not at all gracious. "Everything will be fine when we rescue Jack."

It has become a litany, her own small prayer that her words will prove true.

"But thank you for your concern," she finishes stiffly, offering him a tight smile.

Mal nods.

"So -- you comfortable with all that?"

Pointing to the weapons, naturally.

A hint of a smile returns, and she takes a few steps to further test the weight.

"I am." Then, smile widening, "And I have no intention of telling Barbossa how very well you have armed me for battle."

"Even better."

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