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It's quiet down here. It's been quiet for a while now, since the cannons stopped.

Since the screaming stopped.

Bootstrap Bill Turner sits in the tangled seaweed that strews the sodden floor of the Dutchman's brig, knees drawn up (there isn't room to stretch out his legs), and watches a tiny crab make its way down the opposite wall.

Date: 2006-08-29 03:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dutchmancapn.livejournal.com
Jones stiffens, unmoving save the constant squirming of his tentacles. He looks down at Bootstrap's huddled form.

"Do you now?" he asks, and it's very soft.

Date: 2006-08-29 04:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dutchmancapn.livejournal.com
Jones eyes him a moment more, hard and baleful, and leans down to say:

"You have been damned by no one but yourself, Bill Turner."

It is the same as any other man on the Dutchman.

It is the same as Davy Jones himself.

He straightens, turns, and the steady, shuddering thump of his walk begins to rattle the planks once more.

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byhisbootstraps

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