Up until the point Njal had interrogated him being a Prisoner hadn’t …in all honesty been that bad. He had sparred with Bazi and generally kept to the Creek unless he was called upon to be useful in the ‘labour’ Bazi had promised him to do as if he were not a prisoner but more of a slave. Of course he’d much rather being doing whatever task they could think of him then be under the unyielding pressure of Njal’s weight gasping for breath as he had been the last time. Cutthroat had tried to be as tight lipped as possible if only because he valued his own life too much; which was mostly why he hadn’t tried to escape as Crossbones had once escaped the confines of Tortuga. He wondered if they had made it back yet, wondered if she was ok and to what true purpose Cutlass had, had for quite literally dragging her back. Was it worth it, you wench? Cutthroat thought bitterly in his mind thinking of the deaths of the three others that had served as ‘hired muscle’ with him.

Cutthroat had supposed he could have returned to Tortuga - certainly he might have been much more useful to Crossbones -- maybe he could have helped her escape again if he had lived that long. He wasn’t confident that he would have been granted his life by Cutthroat and Corsair for directly disobeying them. It hadn’t been his job to talk, to preach for parley on Crossbones’ behalf. He shook his head to dispel those thoughts as he made his way in the darkening skies to the den he shared with Swiftcurrent’s fire kissed leader: Fox. The inky pirate moved inside it, almost surprised to see Fox already was inside and had found her spot for the night. He sidestepped her, moving to the back, laying down without much of a word - as was his custom for they didn’t talk much anyway - his spine curled against the back wall of earth, his head facing away from her as he licked (perhaps catlike) at his left front paw, sneaking glimpses at her wondering how uncomfortable it made her to share a den with him.

Or if it made her uncomfortable at all. He, as he did several times, though about saying something - perhaps a meaningless greeting or something but stopped short of actually speaking something, not really wanting to have to take any more abuse punishment than was necessary. Njal’s punishments were enough.

His grooming smoothing of his tongue over the mussed fur of his left paw ceased after deciding that it was as laying as flat as it was likely going to ever get, and had shifted his weight against the earthen wall, inhaling deeply the rich scent of earth, and mixed with that, admittedly, of Fox. Cutthroat, while it was getting better, initially was not all that adapt at sleeping where ever as most Pirates seemed to be. He ached for freedoms — which had initially been the reason why he had joined Cuttlass’ half assed plan in the first place; to get away from Tortuga — and to Cutthroat who had not slept inside a den unless it was unexceptionally cold, snowing, or raining liked the wide and never ending expanse of sky above him, a sea in it’s own right. Dens made him feel confined, caged, which essentially he was by Swiftcurrent Creek’s borders. He understood the purpose and did not attempt to fight it. There was no use and he had helped to cause these wolves the pain of losing Crossbones. He deserved his punishment.

Fox’s voice broke the silence, causing a golden eye to peek open at her — for at some point he had laid his head across his paws and had let his eyes close to imagine the sea. His head did not rise from his paws immediately, not until he had processed it and considered his options of how he could answer it. He could have told her the cruel ways in which Njal attempted to interrogate him but that felt too much like tattling and, absurd though it was, Cutthroat did not want to sound like some mewling pup by complaining about it; yet at the same time he did not wish to lie to Fox. “As well as a Prisoner would expect,” The Pirate settled for hoping that it sated her curiosity though, in truth, it was not much of an answer. It was being honest without being too honest if that made any sense at all.

"How do you expect them to treat me?" It wasn't spoken with any sort of connotation to it beyond curiosity.

The question that Cutthroat had been fearing for the number of days — maybe it had been a few weeks he had lost track of how long he’d actually been apart of Swiftcurrent as their prisoner — had finally made it’s arrival. It hung their, daunting and monstrous because the inky pirate feared that it meant one thing. That all his attempts at stalling, at trying to preserve his life would now be in vain. He could lie. He could tell Fox that Cutlass and Corsair would be back for him, that they would trade Crossbones for him but he couldn’t. It was too outlandish of a lie for even a Pirate to tell (and they spun some outlandish stories). He was nothing to Cutlass and Corsair but hired muscles and a traitor to boot. They wouldn’t come back for him. And even if by some small chance they did they would not bring Crossbones back with them. She had been the object of the raid to begin with, she was Cutlass’ daughter and Cutthroat …was nothing more than another mongrel among them. The Pirate was silent some time before a heavy sigh spilled from between his lips knowing that it was time to surrender. His cards were up and he had nothing more to play. “No. It’s hardly what they would call a fair trade, lass. I am nothing to Cutlass and Corsair; nothing but a traitor anyway.”

It was surprisingly easy to tell Fox that his worth was useless. That holding him Captive would not bring Crossbones back to them.

“I was apart of their crew. I was born into it, that sort of deal. I mean, there were a lot of crews in Tortuga but my mother …she was fond of Cutlass and Corsair so I just stuck around because I liked to think that she needed me. As far as the raid went I was just hired muscle, lass. I didn’t know the details and even if I had they weren’t going to tell me the truth about it. You learn to lie young in Tortuga. It saves your bum,” Cutthroat looked at her steady now, attempting to communicate that despite his skills at word weaving he was, in fact, telling her the truth. Might as well, he was sure that he had signed his death warrant moments ago by admitting that he would not bring Bones back. “So, basically, I was nothing more than another wenches' son in the grander picture.”

Fox’s question was not entirely without warrant, Cutthroat surmised, though the idea of him lying about his presence being of no real use to Fox or the wolves of Swiftcurrent Creek, henceforth, giving her the knowledge she needed to dispose of him was a baffling thing for the inky Pirate to even consider. If he would have been lying he would have told her that he was of value, that eventually Cutlass and Corsair would come back for him, would trade Bones for him but even to Cutthroat who had grown up surrounded by exaggerated tales that sounded entirely too far fetched. Not to mention entirely useless. Cutlass and Corsair didn’t care about him and the only woman in Tortuga that did probably didn’t even mind his absence — if he wasn’t there he wasn’t chasing off prospective suitors — and that left Cutthroat feeling more alone than he ever had.

He glanced down at his paws, their outline visible in the dimness of the den and tucked the left one in close to his chest before his eyes, a shimmering darkened gold in the darkness, peered at Fox’s outline. “If I was lying to you I would have told you that I meant something to the wenches, that they would be back for me,” Cutthroat told her bluntly, sighing softly into the stretching darkness. “However, as much as it pains me to admit, I was not lying when I told you they won’t be back for me. Hired muscle is always expendable and I’m a traitor to boot. Why would they come back for me?” Cutthroat poised the question to her before adding, “Would you risk your life for a traitor?” before he fell to the silence.

Cutthroat could feel the heat of the Alpha’s stare upon him, as if her gaze was a tangible thing, like the hot, stinging kiss of a molten poker against his skin branding him for what he was: a pirate. Her mistrust was entirely warranted even though he thought it was a bit outlandish (even by his standards) that she thought he was lying about basically being of no real use to her. Fox hadn’t answered his questions — not really but her offered ‘hmph’ want answer enough for the inky Pirate. It told the Captive all that he thought he needed to know. Without a viable answer either way he assumed it meant that she would not risk her life for a traitor. He certainly, if the tables were flipped, knew he wouldn’t risk his life for an enemies’ bootlicker.

His attention had began to wander, doubloon colored eyes closing as he looked away from her, knowing that it was imprudent of him to stare at her, even if it was only because, like Bazi, he found Fox beautiful; but he was a rascal to the bone whether it was the Pirate portion of him or something he had been destined to be whether he had been raised a Pirate or not he didn’t know. He just was. Ears twitched towards the Creek’s Alpha earning the rise of his head as his eyes sought her once more in the dimness the den offered as she spoke. So, she wasn’t going to make him walk the plank? She wasn’t going to see to it that his life was ended in recompense for being useless to her plight to get Crossbones back to their ranks? How …odd. “You sound confident about that, lass,” The Pirate observed with an amused twitch of his lips. It was not a confidence that Captive shared with her, admittedly.

Her last words about him continuing to sleep in her den with her, and the according smile in his direction promptly disarmed the Pirate, weaponless, witless; unable to understand what exactly those words were supposed to mean. It would have been easy to assume that she meant to continue keeping an eye upon him but the lovely smile told him something differently. “To keep an eye on me?” He inquired of her.

Though Cutthroat had expected something of a more …elaborate response to his question his expectations were left disappointed for Fox had been horrendously vague. Cutthroat; however, got the gut feeling that it was intentionally so. Of course he had no tangible proof that he instinct was right and nevertheless he considered the possibility that he wasn’t going to get anything more than what she had already offered him as a reply. Still, it left much to the imagination, perhaps, even too much. The silence stretched on from the inky pirate’s end as he attempted to riddle out her words, contemplating what exactly hunting and defending their land had anything to do with him continuing to share her den with her. His pregnant pause lasted a moment longer than he had originally intended as he spent a moment briefly confused on the fact that he had considered her lands theirs which meant the Captive more or less considered Swiftcurrent Creek his home. Not his prison (despite that for now it was) but his home.

Brows lifted, smoothing out of the concentrated ‘v’ shape they had furrowed into and carefully the inky pirate licked his lips focusing back upon her vagueness that really hadn’t answered his question. “Aye but I don’t see what either of those things has to do with us. Sharing a den, I mean.” He could defend borders and hunt just as well as the next man in line. Whether his fire kissed Alpha chose to answer him or not was up to her and if she chose against it Cutthroat had already deduced that he would leave it alone.

Well now this was an interesting development, wasn’t it? Cutthroat admired the way in which Fox came right out and stated that she was interested in potential candidates. He had known plenty of women that would have bashfully skirted around it; but not her. It meant that she knew what she wanted …or at least she knew what she was looking for in a potential mate for her season. Whenever it would come for her. In a way, it was sort of unexpected for the Pirate given his status and her status but he supposed that was the nice thing of being the one in charge. You could do whatever you wanted to do and essentially get away with it. Of course she hadn’t stated that she specifically wanted him and he was not so arrogant to think that he was the only option she had — the amount of single males in the pack proved that he was by a far cry not her only option.

Still.

Her words more or less confirmed that he was among the candidates. He was silent for a long moment, mulling over her words, contemplating all the things he could say about it. The Captive glimpsed at her — having been staring at the wall he faced &mash; curious about what made Fox tick. What made her think the way she did. Most Alpha females, given his status as Captive/Slave …whatever they wanted to call him, they would have turned their noses up at considering him as a candidate for fathering children. One rapscallion only proved to breed more of them, after all. In fact they probably would have treated Cutthroat like he was some kind of infection.

“What about love, lass? Haven’t you ever considered having children out of love rather than just duty?” Not that he was complaining about being a candidate of the business like transaction…not that Cutthroat could imagine any man complaining about getting to impregnate the Alpha. Cutthroat only asked because he was interested in what she had to say, figuring two could play at the 'get to know' game. After all, if nothing else, Fox remained his Alpha and his den mate.

While Fox’s response did not, exactly, serve to surprise Cutthroat, at least she had considered her answer before she gave it to him. Her response was simple and straight too the point and though he waited — for what he wasn’t particularly sure. It seemed that Fox was done with the questions, done receiving them and done asking them and Cutthroat watched as she turned her away in a gesture that told the inky pirate she desired to sleep. He looked at her for a prolonged moment before he let his head fall to his forepaws, and closed his own eyes ready to drift into the sea of his dreams.