try_corsets | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's late when Elizabeth steals back into the bar, eyes scanning the room for Raph.

The inevitable has come to pass. The crew knew, or at least suspected in increasingly loud whispers, and Elizabeth stole their thunder by casually mentioning the child with her best supercilious glare firmly in place.

Sometimes inevitability really irks her.

Sitting back and allowing events to play out as they will isn't her style, however, so here she is, ready to take preemptive action. Hopefully Raph has had time to study the plans and formulate some of his own.

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Define "study." Oh sure he's looked them over, he may have even turned the pages this way or that in an attempt to get his mind to wrap around the rough schematics, but to say he's studied them with any sort of retention? Yeah...that'd be a great big ol' fat NO.

Not to worry though, it's nothing a good half hour or so romp through the the ships hold won't cure. He's always been better at learning by doing. Leave the book learnin' to Donnie and Leo.

That said, he's still giving the pages a once over when Cap'n Swan makes her return to Milliways. Dressed for Tortall, but still sporting his Security badge, Raph nurses a stein of beer at the table which allots him the best view of the bar.

"Raphael," Elizabeth greets him, sparing no time for pleasantries. "The time is nigh. Are you adequately prepared?"

It hasn't escaped her notice that the plans she'd left for him are spread across his table, though her eyes have yet to leave his face.

At the sound of his name, Raph looks up and over at the approaching figure of Elizabeth.

"As I'm gonna be. Good 'nough for government work,"he adds at the end. Just to be reassuring. He sets to straightening up his paperwork, making sure to fold it small enough to fit inside the special compartment on his belt.

"I assure you," and her tone is very dry, "government work is no longer of much concern to me."

Her eyes drop to his clothing.

"This is a different style of dress than I was expecting."

"That your way o' sayin' I look fat?" he quips as he gets to his feet and nudges his chair back in with his foot.

"Don't worry, I got time an' place appropriate gear in b'hind Bar."

And he does too. A giant sea bag of it. Hammock. Change of clothes. His most stealthy weapons. But no sai. Damn it, he's still short his damn sai.

"...no?"

What an odd thing to say, especially as she's the one carrying excess cargo.

Elizabeth nods. That's acceptable, then.

"We'll enter through my cabin, so I'll require the utmost stealth when you slip out."

Raph makes his way over towards Bar, and is just about to vault over her when his nautical bag of doom appears on her top.
Complete with hardtack biscuits. Raph blinks in surprise, but says nothing about the choice of snack. He does, however, give Bar a pat for the effort.

"Think I can manage that. Thinking about setting up a base in the storage area. You got any specific instructions? Or am I on my own."

Elizabeth does not pat Bar. She's afraid she might lose a hand, fledgling friendship with Mike or not. Instead, she runs her eyes over the bag.

"Yes."

A faint smile at the biscuits.

"Are you aware of my husband's identity and," she makes a small, almost amused sound, "special circumstances?"

There's a good reason for that fear, Elizabeth. And be thankful that you're with child, else there might be more shenanigans afoot for you. Dun dun dunnnn.

Raph hefts the bag over one shoulder and nods in the direction of the front door.

"Ain't he the pirate captain of some ghost ship, or somethin'?"

That'd be a definite maybe.

He indicates the door, but all Elizabeth does is glance at it and look back at him. Not yet. This should be said here, not on the other side.

"The Flying Dutchman," she clarifies. "Before Will, Davy Jones had command of it."

Surely even a ninja knows those names?

"He's charged by Calypso with ferrying souls from our world to the next."

Bitterness tinges her tone.

Oh he knows them, but it takes a few brow furrowing seconds for him to reconstruct the context in which he heard them.

In the meantime, he slowly nods as she speaks, hoping to give the illusion that he's following this.

Then something hits him.

"You're married to Death."

Part of her wants to argue; Will and the Dutchman certainly represent death, but to call him Death itself?

Charon fits better, in her mind.

That part, however, is irrelevant in light of her current situation, and is easily and coldly ignored.

"Some might even say I'm his widow," she answers at last, hearing a dull thump, thump in the back of her mind. "And pirates are a superstitious breed."

Beat.

"I'm sure you can see the advantage."

In Raph's eyes Will doesn't have to be Death to be on Her payroll. He's already beginning to formulate some plans, and hoping that the Dutchman doesn't actually show up unannounced.

It's one thing to bump into your ex. Its another to bump into your ex while plotting Scooby-doo like plots to scare and intimidate pirates.

He nods.

"Spooky. Quiet. Got it."

Someday, they should have that conversation.

Not today.

"Yes." She gives him one nod in return, along with a thin smile. "Anything you can do to persuade the rest that it's Will's displeasure the unfortunate few have earned, the less work you'll have to do."

Savvy?

"I give you leave to be inventive."

As long as his methods doesn't interfere with their current course.

Define interfere.

"Inventive, huh? A'right, I think I can do that. Though, question first: any limitations on stuff from here that I can an' can't bring with me? 'Cause...I was just gonna start snappin' necks, but...if it's spooky you want..."

Anything that turns her ship around and points it in the wrong direction.

"We don't have any of those on board," she says, swinging her arm around in a wide arc to point at an electrical outlet. "You may wish to plan accordingly. Other than that, I want nothing that could be found and considered strange enough to spark further investigation. Assumptions are well and good. Questions are not."

Again, he's nodding...only this time there's the distinct tell that he's actually thinking and not just going through the motion. It's an expression that would prompt his brother Mike to say, Is something burning?

"Electricity I can do without. I've even got time an' place appropriate ropes an' gear. What I'm thinkin' specifically of though is something we had growin' up called Glow Sticks. Though..."

And here he takes the bag off his shoulder and moves back towards bar.

"Battery powered black lights an' responsive paint could go a long ass way too..."

Elizabeth watches Raph closely as he thinks out loud and moves, her hooded gaze suggesting she's in the midst of deciding whether or not his questionable sanity outweighs his usefulness.

Predictably, the answer is no.

"Responsive paint?"

Glow Sticks sound promising.

He tosses a, "Yup," over his shoulder before setting to the work of conning Bar into giving him such things. It...is not easy going, at first. She might not want to do anything physically bad to Elizabeth right this second, but that doesn't mean she wants any part in helping her either.

There's a moment in the debate where Raph takes a very calculated intake of breath, holds it for what is very clearly a count of ten, before letting out through his nose.

"Please," he asks one more time.

Finally she acquiesces to his request.
Still steamed over the exchange, Raph takes up his sea bag with more force than is strictly necessary and moves briskly away from Bar.

Muttering the entire way.

"That was well-handled," Elizabeth interrupts his muttering retreat, almost impressed. "One would think she'd be more cooperative."

This is added only when they are both a safe distance away.

"Considering what Mike has undertaken on her behalf."

Raph's assistance was Mike's idea, after all.

"That frickin' Bar likes nothin' more than gettin' my goat." It's amazing how much enunciation he still has while talking through clenched teeth. "She's damn lucky she's attached to my baby brother, is all I'm sayin'."

Once they're good and far away, Raph tosses his bag onto a nearby table top and sets to opening the newly tied parcel he's gotten from Bar.

It's a small dark purple glass tube in a plastic holder, and a few pots of what appear to be paint. Raph clicks on the light which gives off nothing more than an eerie glow, and then unscrews the cap of one of the pots.

"Anything white will glow bright, but with theses we can hide it in plain sight."

There's an additional pot of something. It's not labeled.

"That's for when we need it to be in less plain sight."

And to think he hasn't even gotten to the Glow Sticks yet!

"Extraordinary," Elizabeth murmurs.

The many wonders to be found at the end of the universe can still surprise her; sometimes she forgets to mind.

"I begin to see the possibilities."

She smiles at Raph, and not just because she's finally met someone else who doesn't adore Bar unreservedly.

She he took his eye on a lark one day. Their relationship has been at arms reach ever since. Which isn't to say that he doesn't treat her with respect, because he does. He believes her to be the only thing with the capacity to keep him away from Abigail.

"My brother Donnie used to say that Magic is what we call things we can't explain with science. Trust me, they ain't gonna see this comin', an' they sure as hell ain't gonna be able to explain it."

Then he takes a glow stick out of the foil wrapper, bending the plastic tube until something internal cracks. A good vigorous shake after that and the tube glows bright green.

"Then there's these."

Believe it or not, Elizabeth can respect that reasoning. She has a similar regard for Destiny.

"These pirates have seen more than most," she warns, "but that green is perfect."

No other explanation is offered, but Elizabeth silently recalls how Davy Jones, his crew and his ship -- not Will's, because the Dutchman might as well be another vessel with him as captain -- always struck her as slightly green around the edges, like something infected with fester and rot.

"Ain't it just? Ain't nothin' you can't do with a slime this color green."

Trust Raph, he's living proof of it.

"Best part o' these babies is this. The liquid don't got no smell or taste. An' if you swallow'em they don't make you sick. They do stain, and will keep glowing until the reactions done. Had lots of fun at Mikey's expense with these growin' up."

There were more than a few nights of Mike sleeping with Splinter because the glowing wouldn't go away. Raph lost count of the number of laps he had to run when Splinter found out he'd told the younger turtle that the green was coming back to turn Mike into a regular turtle again.

It was worth every step.

"Slime?"

Elizabeth curls her lip in mild disgust, wondering what fool decided to test the liquid's toxicity.

"Don't stain too much of the ship. We've just had her repaired."

"I'll see what I can manage," he says lobbing the glow stick in Elizabeth's direction with little to no other warning. Hands free he begins to secure his new goods into their wrapping cloth and packing them into what little space there is in his sea bag.

She catches the glow stick, but not without taking a hurried step back first in order to increase the distance between them and decrease the chances of fumbling it.

Her other hand is now on her sword hilt, and it takes a moment for the wariness to fade from her eyes.

Habit.

"Good. I think we'll soon have the situation in hand," she says eventually, after watching him pack.

"An' if we don't? We'll at least make sure you get yourself a shiny new crew."

See? There's always a silver lining!

Eyeing the glow stick in her hand, Elizabeth lets out a small laugh.

"I'm not entirely certain you don't mean that literally."

She looks up, tosses the stick back and starts for the door in the stiff, almost careful stride of someone more used to the deck of a ship than dry land.

Raph easily catches the glow stick and places it on the tabletop.
"I'll try to restrain myself," he deadpans giving the glow stick a spin.

He checks the balance on the bag before once again hefting it over his shoulder and following close behind her.

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