Drabble: 'An Execrable Business'
Jan. 10th, 2009 07:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Exactly 200 words (without the title) for the 'Tortuga' prompt at
blackpearlsails, with thanks to
hereswith for the beta read.
~ An Execrable Business ~
A sly hand slid into the pocket but, instead of the usual reward of purse and coin, the victim swirled 'round and changed to victor, strong fingers gripping the errant wrist.
"What's this?" Triumphant eyes narrowed, and the gravelly, rum-slurred voice said, accusingly, "You're a girl!"
"Am not!"
"Are."
"Not! Let me go!"
"Not likely."
The other wrist was caught and the thief jerked roughly into the shadows and slammed against a wall. The eyes raked, and a curl of lip was seen, with a glint of gold. "Overmuch whimpering and squirming for not-a-girl."
The squirming ceased, with some effort. "I do not whimper!"
"Oh, no. Nor blub, neither, I daresay."
There was an awkward pause; a lower lip was bitten, and a trembling chin firmed. "Wh-what are you going to do?"
The painful hold eased slightly. "Rather depends on your candor, or lack thereof, don't it? For example, if you was to tell me how a gently bred lass ends up picking pockets in a Tortuga alley – most execrable in circumstance, intent, and execution – I might be persuaded not to hand you over to the authorities."
"Gently bred? I—"
"The low accent needs work, darlin'."
"Oh."
"Oh. "
TBC…
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~ An Execrable Business ~
A sly hand slid into the pocket but, instead of the usual reward of purse and coin, the victim swirled 'round and changed to victor, strong fingers gripping the errant wrist.
"What's this?" Triumphant eyes narrowed, and the gravelly, rum-slurred voice said, accusingly, "You're a girl!"
"Am not!"
"Are."
"Not! Let me go!"
"Not likely."
The other wrist was caught and the thief jerked roughly into the shadows and slammed against a wall. The eyes raked, and a curl of lip was seen, with a glint of gold. "Overmuch whimpering and squirming for not-a-girl."
The squirming ceased, with some effort. "I do not whimper!"
"Oh, no. Nor blub, neither, I daresay."
There was an awkward pause; a lower lip was bitten, and a trembling chin firmed. "Wh-what are you going to do?"
The painful hold eased slightly. "Rather depends on your candor, or lack thereof, don't it? For example, if you was to tell me how a gently bred lass ends up picking pockets in a Tortuga alley – most execrable in circumstance, intent, and execution – I might be persuaded not to hand you over to the authorities."
"Gently bred? I—"
"The low accent needs work, darlin'."
"Oh."
"Oh. "
TBC…
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