the ruler and the killer;

Slightly tilts his head just a bit. He glares at Hook, “Well, you happen to be on land, thus it concerns me.” He pauses, taking a slightly step forward, only a half of one, he doesn’t even fully put his weight on his foot. The ground beneath him only disturbed when he shifted his weight as he said, “Why would I ever trust a pirate?”

"I never asked you to trust me." Hook says with a small smirk. "I am not bound to my ship, child."

Despite his greeting, Sweeney felt as if she were still intruding on him. Distance was the only way she knew to be certain that she’d make it back the way she’d come if her presence wasn’t wanted. “Captain,” her smile tight and nearly non-existent.

He can see how tentative, how unsure she is to come near him. It pleases him to be reminded that he intimidates her so. "What brings you to the island?"

Wendy steps off the Jolly Roger and onto the soft sands, fully intending to take a stroll down the beach and see who or what she would run into. Seeing the familiar figure retreating from the beach, however, she changes her plans and instead heads in his direction, curiosity getting the better of her. Her gaze catches his as he quickly turns to face her. “Must you be so jumpy?”

Hook raises an eyebrow at the sight of Wendy. She is one of his best kept secrets, a tool for him to use when the time is right. He is unhappy with the idea that she might vist the island as often as he does; there are plenty of inhabitants who can recognize her, or to whom she can reveal her identity. "I'm not jumpy," he says casually, giving away nothing, "I'm simply careful."

Michael puts his hand on the handle of his dagger and tries to step back. His body trembles as his grip on the handle tightens and he doesn’t put it on the ground. He still doesn’t look directly at Hook.

Hook sighs, looking more annoyed than angry. He twists Michael's arm behind his back. "I said, put it on the ground."

Raising his hands up, he stares at Hook like a lost puppy. Dash is covered in sweat and stains of wildlife. His shirt is tethered and torn in certain areas. Bruises cover his skin all over his body. “I’m not a threat to you,” he simply states. His intentions weren’t to attack Hook, but fool him into believing he was a pathetic wanderer, seeking a place of salvation.

Hook scans the boy carefully, mistrust clear on his expression. He doesn't seem like a threat, he decides, but Hook is not one to take any chances. "I see." he says, looking pointedly at him, waiting for the wanderer to explain himself.

Braddock meets his gaze head on, expression softening slightly. She rolls her shoulders like the tide, long, languid, stretching into a more relaxed state only to be brought back under control. “For now,” she drawls with her customary smirk, already picking up his pace; over years of study, she’s come to never be more than one step behind his thought process, his intense gaze and subtle mannerisms cues she has learned well. The doctor retracts her proffered pipe and puffs on it in a moment of consideration, contemplating the silver lining of the waves before sniffling, the scent of salt fresh in her nose. “Not for long, I’m sure,” she half-sighs, half-whistles, pushing the hair off her forehead, a much more straight forward question licking her lips. “Are you heading back to the ship, then?”

Hook nods, in agreement it seems, to her statement. "Not for long.." he mutters. Whether it be his doing or not, Neverland was never one to stay quiet for a lengthy period of time. He vows, though, that he will be ready for the newest storm to roll in, to control it or use it to his advantage. The list of possibilities goes on and on in his mind, as vast as the sea. He pulls back into the current moment, though, when Braddock speaks again. "Yes." he says simply. "Are you?"

She nods to herself, running her tongue along a crack on her lower lip. The doctor offers her captain the chipped-wood pipe without a word, hearing in his voice the rustle of the trees and the crunch of leaf litter; it wasn’t uncommon for Hook to wander from the ship from time to time, and on occasion, she’d had the pleasure to accompany him, but today was not one of those days. Braddock’s eyes went to trace the same outline as his, the ship swaying softly near the sandbank, it’s sails folded neatly on themselves. She could have asked him what he was thinking about, intense blue eyes on everything and nothing as usual, but the silence was enough, for the moment, so she simply waited, crouching down in the sand to pick up a bit of sea glass. Fumbling with it for a second, she stood up again, squinting out over the water as she had before, his presence a solid pressure next to her rather than a feeling. “…Come across anything today?” she asked softly, implying everything and nothing at once, indicating the walk he’d no doubt been on with a simple tilt of her head.

Hook inhales, once again tasting the comforting salty air as it filled his lungs. He suddenly appears more peaceful: as if the malice that can so easily spring from him is tucking itself away in the presence of the sea. His eyes wander over to Braddock only then, their intensity matching the small rolling waves of the ocean, which at the moment, is calm. "Nothing to report." he says with a small shrug. Indeed, since Pan's return, the island was far less treacherous than they had endured, and though it was still deadly, it has returned to a nature Hook understands. "Everything seems to be at peace, for now." he adds; it's clear in his voice, at least to anyone who knows how to listen to him, that he has intentions laced in his statement, though that may be a newly forming plan or the simple musing of an idea.

Memories fill up Michael vision and he can barely see the trees around him as he runs and nearly trips over roots and sticks. He stops hard in a jerking motion when Hook grabs onto his arm. Instead of responding, he tries to pull his arm away from Hook, breathing erratic. He doesn’t look at Hook’s face.

"Please, do calm down." he mutters, pulling Michael's messenger bag open with his hook, looking inside, then yanking it over his head and dropping it on the ground. He scans the boy once. "You've been hiding among the Piccaninny." It isn't a question. "Take that dagger off your waist and put it on the ground."

Slightly had been out on patrol, more like he had just been out walking. Some days a good exploration was needed. He wished some of the island’s inhabitants understood that, but sadly they didn’t. He had come across someone walking in the woods, the glint of the hook could be seen. Just as Hook turned around he spoke, “You’re a bit a far from your little ship aren’t ya Hooky.”

He doesn't give away much, as is usual for the pirate captain. He realizes who the boy is after a brief memory resurfaces, but along with the recognition comes disinterest. "Perhaps." he responds gruffly. "Count yourself lucky that it doesn't concern you."

It wasn’t often that Sweeney stepped off the ship. In fact, she’d rarely taken the trek even after her body became healthy enough for her to even take a step on it’s own with her brother’s help; Sweeney never left Rowan’s sight. Yet she couldn’t stay with him always as she slipped off the ship for a chance to explore the land. That was where she stumbled on the last person she’d expected to see as she took an involuntary step backwards when she felt trapped in his gaze. “S-Sorry.”

Hook's face reveals no clues to Sweeny as their eyes meet. Normally, he keeps to himself on his walks, planning or simply observing the island, making sure there was nothing new to surprise him. However, he isn't about to ignore one of the members of his crew. "Hello, Sweeney." he says, nodding his head in greeting.

When Michael sees the man’s eyes and recognizes him as Captain Hook, he turns and runs.

Hook watches the boy run, an amused smile on his face. Quickly, not quite a run but certainly faster than a walk, he cuts through the trees and follows after him, and it doesn't take long to catch up. "Michael." he says calmly, gripping the boy's arm tightly. "Where are you running off to?"

Braddock dug her toes into the sand, hands casually laced behind her back as she looked out over the ocean. Almost three hundred years of the place and she still wasn’t tired of the view. She sighed, softly, through her nose, the salty air pulling on the ends of her loose curls playfully like a child. The doctor might not have heard the footsteps approaching if the tide hadn’t just receded, but as luck would have it, it had, and she soon found herself with company. She took one long drag on her pipe before finally speaking, voice soft against the sound of lapping water. “Enjoying the view, hm?”

"As always." he responds, his voice barely a murmur over the sound of the ocean and the wind. He watches as small waves break and the water roll back toward their feet, wetting the edge of his boots while the taste and scent of salt takes the place of the smells of the woods he has just exited. Hook doesn't glance at her as he stops by her side, his eyes on his ship and the vast blue sea it rests in.