#blackbearded

His first reaction was his eyebrows raising the small crack in his impassive mask when the words broke free of the woman before him. That beastly beard did more than spur his image and reputation, it also did a damn well job of hiding the lopsided curve of his lips. He couldn’t deny there was a passion there, something raging that he had no say in trying to temper or distract in any fashion. He had no say to do anything truly, because he has made such claims himself easily enough. Granted it was a bit different, he reckoned, when it was spoken by someone who has done any killing at all. Not that he would know.     ❝Words are all nice and inspirin’, miss–❞ and didn’t he know the truth about that, given his own knack of colorful storytelling, ❝–but before you let that fire eat away at ye, you ought t'make a plan.❞ He crossed his arms, head tipping to one side, and his gaze heavy.     ❝–And I don’t mean ‘bout how you plan to string up their innards like garlands. How d'ya mean to get what’s yours?❞

       “And what makes you think I don’t already have a plan?”

   Her eyes narrowed, resentment burning in her gaze. It seemed a permanent    addition to her visage, placed there by the betrayal of men she might have once    considered allies. Her anger might have been considered ironic, or at the very    least hypocritical, by some, and perhaps a part of her realized that herself. But    it didn’t lessen the fire that had ignited in her chest. It didn’t lessen her need to    take down everyone who had so thoughtlessly stolen her world out from under    her.

   Pirates.

   Her jaw tightened as she regarded the man, taking in his features. He was a    pirate, a well known one at that; it didn’t serve to gain him much favor where    she was concerned.