Chapter Text
“And in all other ways he would be… the same?” the man asks, staring at the bottle in his hand with equal parts hope and suspicion. The woman he is interrogating at the end of a cutlass glares up at him with distaste.
“Apart from a sudden desire to follow your orders, you mean?”
“In all the ways that matter! Everything that makes him him, would still be there.” The man’s tone is insistent as if trying to convince himself. Tia Dalma, goddess in human form, regards him with something approaching pity.
“There are some that would say,” she starts, bold even in the face of danger, “That an unwillingness to follow anyone and a hatred of monster's like you are what makes Jack Sparra.” Hector Barbossa snarls. He brings up his hand to the woman’s neck, shoving her into the wall and momentarily cutting off her air flow.
“Ye should be more careful with your words, witch.” Tia Dalma scrabbles at his arm, attempting to shove him off, and he curls his lip at her, seeming content to watch her struggle. After a moment he releases her and takes a step backwards allowing her a moment to catch her breath. “This had better work as promised, or I’ll be returning for a second visit. One ye’ll like even less than this.” Two sets of eyes meet across the room, both glaring with angry defiance.
“Don’t ya insult me, boy, I know my work.” This answer seems to satisfy Barbossa, because he nods and sheaths his sword. As he makes to leave, the goddess calls after him. “No caged bird will ever sing as prettily as one that is free.” The pirate pauses in his exit for a moment and then shrugs.
“That’s as may be, but the only other choice is to kill him, and I’ve done that once already.”