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the answer's in the middle distance
turned_captain wrote in milliways_bar
Three hours a day on top of training your fiancee and a large amount of blacksmith work means that Will doesn't have much time for pleasantries within the bar. It's also probably why he doesn't have any friends.

That's OK, he has his swords.

He has many swords, in fact. People charge him with commissions occasionally. It's possible that he has a few wrapped in cloth to his side today as he takes his breakfast.

[OOC: yep, if you have ICly asked Will for a commission, or OOCly asked me if your pup can have one, or even if you want to say now that they've asked him, then that's all fine. Or, just chat with the blacksmith]

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There's someone else in the bar at this particular moment -- perhaps even an opportune moment, some might opine.

Who they are, Jack probably couldn't or wouldn't say. In any case, he's stopped mid-saunter and is giving Will an intrigued once-over.

"Nice sword."

A pause.

"Swords, rather. Quite a lot of them you have there, mate."

"Commissions, Jack," Will says, looking up to Jack and giving him a dry smile. "I'm earning an honest living here."

"An honest living for an honest man, aye?" Jack drawls.

Black eyes are gleaming with wicked amusement.

"Of course," he returns. "I suppose you are stealing food from the magic bar?"

"Now why would I need to go and do that?"

His grin is unrepentant.

"The lass and I, we get on well as it is, savvy?"

Will's own grin stays fixed and dry, with no reason as yet to be particularly angry at Jack, for all that he'd like to be.

"Living on credit, then? Until we bring you back?"

Jack goes oddly tense, and there's a beat of silence.

"Ah. Still planning on doing that, are you, William?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Will asks, letting his grin slip.

He spreads both hands wide in a quick flash of movement, swaying slightly on his feet as he does.

"Let's just say I've never been quite sure why you would."

A beat, and a sharp smile.

"Savvy?"

"We owe you our lives, Jack," Will points out simply.

It's not that simple, but he feels it really should be.

"Don't you want to live again?"

"Wasn't exactly looking to be dead in the first place, was I?"

He'll take that as a yes, Will thinks.

"You elected to stay behind," he says, echoing Elizabeth's own words; it's months later and he's not going to forget that day easily. "And saved our lives in the doing. We'll bring you back."

Jack cocks his head to one side, watching Will with interest.

"You keep telling me that, mate. Or is it yourself you're telling?"

Nearly a year, it's been, as time goes here-- and young William Turner's still able to turn a blind eye to the truth of things in favor of what he wants to believe.

He shrugs.

"Might do better to settle for what you can do." He nods to the stack of swords by Will's side, then leans over and picks one up, examining it. "Can't say as I'd mind replacing me own lost one with one what's of your work."

Will watches Jack. He'd make him a sword, of course, but that one he's handling now belongs to someone else. So there's a possessive eye following pirate movements.

"Are you saying it's not true?"

"I say a lot of things," Jack reminds him, then tests the balance of the sword in his hand.

A beat.

"Don't see you doing anything about it, mate."

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