Swiftcurrent Creek [j] the king and his men

It was with a slight trepidation that Cutthroat tore his attention away from the two males that flanked their fire kissed leader to said woman. For the moment, he ignored their stares, heavy upon him, causing his skin to prickle with the ferocity of their eyes upon him. There was a stretch of silence that while it lasted, maybe, half of a minute at most seemed to feel like it took a lifetime or two, like the pulse beneath a bruise: slow and torturous. Fox’s words were not - he was briefly surprised but did well to hide it - a death sentence and not even a real proposition - and really Cutthroat didn’t deserve options since he had been the idiot to return to these wolves after what had happened with Bones - it was more like …terms of imprisonment. Something he knew well from growing up in Tortuga. Not all pirates killed, a lot of them took hostages until they got what they wanted and then let them go, or worst case scenario took them as prisoners.

Cutthroat only barely resisted the urge to correct Fox that Cutlass and Corsair were not his sisters (even on the terms of pack as she had meant it) and that he would rather die than be associated with either of the scurvy ridden wenches any further than he already was. Upon closer examination, Fox’s conditions were not unbearable and if Cutthroat was being honest with himself, probably more than he deserved. “Aye, Captain,” He agreed. It was only then that the teenager peeked up, wondering what exactly would happen next.