Take Off Your Dress, Pick Up A Sword

a rash elopement

Will, who had just sprung a man from jail, seemed surprised when Jack, a pirate and scoundrel, suggested further criminal activity. "We're going to steal a ship?" He whispered apprehensively.

"How did you think we were gonna get out of here?" Joanna asked, unable to help herself.

That prompted a smirk from Jack. "That ship," he said, jerking a thumb toward the Interceptor. "We're going to commandeer that ship. Nautical term."

He turned in a whirl of tangled hair and coattails, fixing Will with a stern glare. "One question 'bout your business, boy. And Joanna," he kindly tacked on with a nod in Joanna's direction. She flashed a sardonic smile. "This girl," Jack said. "How far are you willing t' go t' save her?"

"I'd die for her," Will declared without hesitation.

"Oh, good," Jack said blithely. He then quirked an eyebrow at Joanna. She shrugged; the only thing Joanna was certain of was her intention to follow Will.

"We'll worry about that later, then," Jack said of her reply, turning to face the bay again. His perspicacious eyes scanned the beach, then settled with satisfaction on something Joanna couldn't determine. "C'mon," he said, sauntering out into the sun.

Joanna and Will exchanged a dubious glance before following.

Looking pleased with himself, Jack elucidated his plan as they snuck through the sparse foliage at the waterside. Joanna noticed a flaw in his plotting immediately and flushed as she pointed it out.

"Won't this, ah, be a problem?" Joanna said, ruffling her skirt with one hand.

Jack's eyes ran her over appraisingly, mouth twitching into a smirk. Joanna's embarrassment turned to indignation. Before she could say something neurotic, though, Jack shrugged. "Cut it off," he said.

"I -- what?"

"Jus' around your ankles, luv," Jack elaborated, illustrating his meaning with the tip of his cutlass, dragging it along the muddy and sodden fabric. "Or your knees. But make it quick."

The dress had once been the color of a green flash at sunset. Joanna had sewn herself the snowy lace trimming, making it a finer garment than most women of her station enjoyed. Now it was dirty, ripped, and struck through by her rapier, which remained at rest in the fabric at her waist.

Without thinking much about it, she unsheathed her sword and began hacking away at the skirt and the shift she wore beneath it.

"Joanna!" Will hissed, scandalized. He pointedly looked away as the fabric fell, one scrap at a time.

Jack, on the other hand, observed with unabashed interest. "Nice shoes," he remarked.

They were nice -- with sturdy, short heels and a splash of gold trim. Joanna kicked her feet a bit, pleased to feel the breeze across her calves. "Thank you," she said primly. "Now let's go."

It was tricky to fit the three of them under the rowboat, but they managed with only a bit of grumbling at each other. On the other hand, their combined strength was beneficent in hauling the boat beneath the water.

"This is either madness, or brilliance," Will commented as they traipsed across the seafloor.

"'s remarkable how often those two traits coincide," Jack said dryly from the front.

Joanna's aforementioned nice shoes were quickly being ruined by sand and saltwater. Her skirt billowed, occasionally drifting to wiggle on the surface of the water. Joanna irately shoved it down several times but eventually embraced the fact the fishies -- and only the fishies, thankfully, since Jack and Will stood in front of her -- could see her ass.