milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Will and Doc enter from the back, carrying Jack Sparrow between them, he is bound with duct tape and both outlaws are grinning as they lay him down on a table ignoring all protests and bargaining.

Now the search for where best to display their prize for the most amusement, perhaps tied to a rafter.

The two outlaws are welcome to suggestions or just poke the pirate.

(OOC:Three pups, three muns, Jack's trussed, Will and Doc are grinning, come and have fun!)

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"Put him somewhere where everyone can see him," Mary suggests, immediately, with perhaps inappropriate glee. "It is awfully funny - and he does deserve it."

"Fine lot of help you are," Jack growls at Mary, utterly exasperated.

"Not but what I shouldn't have expected that. Remind me to warn the lad what manner of woman you're turning out to be."

"I would not say that Wellard should be tied up," Mary says, brightly. "But you are a pirate, and you have stolen lots of things; it is only fair. Anyways it is not as if it shall hurt you," she concludes, looking prim, "and you ought not to whine about it."

"And that's exactly right," Doc says brightly, to the young lady. "Young Miss, we're not meanin' to hurt him, just to have a bit of fun this evenin', and I think we're doing that quite nicely, don't you?"

"Oh, yes," Mary agrees enthusiastically. "It is funnier than anything I have seen in ages."

Considering Mary is ten years old and with a decidedly odd sense of humor, this might not be as much of a compliment as it seems. All the same!

Its a compliment nonetheless and she gets another grin from Will,

"Aye, lass, tis fair 'musin'."

"If I tell you other people who are bad," Mary says, rather hopefully, "will you go find them and tie them up in duct tape?"

. . . a girl can dream!

"I've got an idea as to who you lads can start with," Jack drawls, eyeing Mary pointedly.

Very pointedly.

Hastily, in case they get any ideas: "Not me. I know how to hit."

"Wouldn't dare harm a hair on your pretty little head, Miss," Doc assures her.

Ordinarily, Mary would protest 'pretty', but considering the topic, she merely aims a smug look at Jack.

She's at least prettier than he is.

"Doc, I'm thinkin' this fine lass would rather 'elp us in tyin' up folks, 'minds me o'Lady Marian when she gets set on somethin'."

"Oh - I met her," Mary says, brightening.

"Do you know her?"

A beat, as a thought occurs to her and her eyes widen. "- are you friends of Robin Hood too? Are you taking Jack's money to give to the poor?"

No wonder they're tying up Jack! He doesn't give to the poor.

"I am the poor!" Jack protests.

Whether or not this is actually true is anyone's guess.

"I have seen your treasure," Mary retorts, scornfully.

Not Mary's guess!

"Aye, lass, me name's Will Scarlett an tis me 'onor to be Robin 'ood's squire. An Cap'n Jack's a pirate so 'e's got different rules then the rest o'us outlaws."

"I have read about you," Mary says to Will - which seems to be a good thing; at least, she sounds pleased about it.

"Outlaws are better than pirates because they help people - although some pirates I like. But who is the other one?" She looks at Doc.

"Name's Doc," he says. "Doc Scurlock. Not from Will's time, but later. Cowboys and Indians, that time. You ever read about Billy the Kid?"

He doubts it. But it's worth a shot.

Mary frowns, clearly concentrating hard, and then reluctantly shakes her head.

"No - Colin knows more about cowboys and Indians. He has more books on them. I know more about the other kind of Indian."

Jack mutters something under his breath and then subsides, listening with evident interest.

"Aye, like those in India? Sharpe mentioned that place, ne'er 'eard o'it, only know tis somewhere past the 'oly Lands. Why do ye know o''em, lass?"

"I lived there," Mary explains, a little absently, and then glances towards the door.

"But I live in Yorkshire now - I ought to go home soon."

She casts a rather reluctant glance at the taped Jack Sparrow. She doesn't want to leave this beautiful sight just yet! But . . .

"Aye, lass, 'eard o'Yorkshire though ne'er been there meself. 'rhaps Lady Bar could give ye a way to get an image o'the pirate 'fore ye leave. 'eard tell o'things called cameras though ne'er seen one."

Mary looks a little doubtful.

"Cameras are awfully large."

"No, they're not!" Doc intejects helpfully, as he turns to Bar and asks nicely for a camera. The one that is presented to him is a simple disposable model, and Doc reads the instructions before he follows them.

And promptly blinds himself with the flash when it goes off after depressing the little button with the jagged line on it.

He nearly falls off his perch.

"Fargin' Christ," Doc blinks rapidly. "Spots everywhere."