"You know, you'd be half pretty if you weren't scowlin' all the time,
She glares. She won't be told what to do by the likes of him. Won't simper
and play the coquette like her maman.
These English men, they think they can make her biddable. "How would you
like to make a little money?" they say, speaking slowly, as if she were a
halfwit. "Do you speak English?" And the French are no better. "Parlez
vous franšais?" they say, but it's all the same. She's not a man and
she's not the right color (never mind that all women look the same in the
dark). They think she's something exotic and showy, like a peacock. But
she is a raptor and will not be tamed.
Pretty Jack Sparrow cocks his head and scrutinizes her, a lazy smile
flitting across his lips. "No, the scowl suits you. Pretty is as pretty
does, right, sweetheart?"
She's going to regret it. She knows it long before he steals her boat and
clips her wings. But it's almost worth it, for the moment when he seems to
see her for who she truly is, and want her for it, just the same.
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