Face impassive, Elizabeth watches and wonders at the way his lazy grin cuts more deeply than his retreat. Long denied and trivialized guilt surfaces, mingling with her desire to move, to act, to solve this infuriating puzzle. He hasn't answered the query she thought so important, but suddenly that doesn't matter anymore. She nods: Have it your way. For now.

Jack has answered more questions than he realizes; or perhaps Elizabeth has simply found her own answers. Answers or not, she briefly contemplates pushing him from the railing to the lake below. That, she thinks, smiling to herself, would wipe the grin from his face.

The bottle of rum is still mostly full and makes a sloshing sound as she leaves it on the quarterdeck stairs. Jack gets another look, neither long nor meaningful, and Elizabeth quietly lowers herself over the railing and down the side of the ship.

She has things to do and a witch to see.