The sudden squeal of the metal gate awoke a couple of the prisoners, including Abigail. The morning breeze was suddenly felt through the barred windows and the bright rays of the sun soaked into the cells, illuminating the brick floors. To exhausted to care, Abigail closed her eyes again and brought her hands up over her face, sighing miserably. She could hear the faint mumbling and scuffing of boots nearby, but she didn’t let that bother her. That was until the metal gate slammed against its hinges and scared her awake. Reluctantly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and she rubbed at her puffy eyes, brushing her hair from her face. When her vision finally did focus, and she was able to look around without blinking, she saw someone in her cell. Curious, she sunk back against the wall and folded her arms over her chest, observing the individual quietly. He was tall and dark. It was hard to tell if his skin was natural or if he was just dirty. He held a roguish appearance and his hair was long, braided and adorned with beads and other ornaments. He’d been stripped of his hat, trench-coat and other possessions, just like herself and she could make them out next to her own on the hooks. Much to her fortune, he hadn’t noticed her yet. Instead, he was busy peering through the bars at the guards, and feeling around the hinges for a weakness it seemed. Infact, it was almost as if he’d been here before.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spun around, brows furrowed feverishly and lips curled into a great frown. With a clear view of his face, she could see his rat-tail goatee and his mustache that covered his upper lip, which curled at each end. When he finally caught sight of her, he blinked a couple times, raised his hands and pointed an accusing finger at her. Before either of them said a word, the individual spun around and slithered back to the metal gate he’d entered. Catching a guard by the sleeve, he spoke in a rather slurred, yet commanding tone. Abigail got the impression that he spoke often in that tone.

“There seems to be some kind of mistake, aye... I don’t remember requesting a cell-mate, mate.”

His last word was uncertain, but he stood up straight as the guard peeked into the cell. For a moment, it was like the guard couldn’t see her...but the moment went by fast and he only shrugged, tore his sleeve from the man’s grasp and stalked away. Shot down and rather disappointed, the individual turned around and glanced at Abigail again, hands hovering above his waist. He didn’t say anything. He observed her for along time, leaving the young girl both uncomfortable and angry. When he did finally speak, she was rather unhappy that she’d eventually have to respond.

“Well then Lass, seeing as we’re stuck in this godforsaken hole of dust and dirt, might as well get to know each other, aye? What say you to that?”

From the utterly grumpy expression he received, he raised his brows a bit and approached her. She didn’t budge, and remained in her slumped back, arms-crossed position. Certain she wouldn’t bolt, or slap him in the face, he sunk down on the dusty, hay-covered floor in front of her.

“Right then, I’ll start, seeing as you refuse.” He raised a brow at her, an obvious attempt to give her another change and continued.

“I am Captain Jack Sparrow...and- ”

“No you’re not.”

Jack raised a brow. How dare this impotent little mouse deny him his name! He narrowed his eyes suddenly and leaned forward, staring at her intently. Though he knew exactly what he’d like to say, he was so flabbergasted by her comeback, that he sat silent until she continued.

“Jack Spar- ”

“Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please.”

She shot him a glare and continued.

“The Captain of the Black Pearl is the greatest pirate in the entire world. I don’t expect he’d ever by caught by the marines of Port Royal and if he ever WAS caught, I doubt he’d be wasting his time talking to me. He’d be working on a plan to get himself out and back into the ocean where he belongs.”

Jack smiled, accepting these wonderful things she said about him unknowingly. He didn’t linger long, and pushed himself to his feet only seconds after she’d finished speaking. As he stood, he spoke.

“By harpies- you’re right.”

As he slid towards the end of the bench and clambered up onto it’s surface to peer through the window, he turned momentarily to the girl and inquired quietly.

‘What’s your name, love?’

‘Abigail Ocean...’

“An interesting one, might I add. Now, if you’re finished sitting down, perhaps you can help me get out of here.”

Abigail lingered for a moment and frowned. Finally, she did give in and pushed her tired little body up on her feet. She slid towards the bars once again and began feeling around the hinges. She didn’t hear the footsteps that were quickly descending the stair-steps, however.