'IT'S JUST MYSELF TALKING TO MYSELF ABOUT MYSELF,' jack sparrow + verona, SCREAMIGNGGGG IDK WHY i thot of this dynamic but bye
"Oh, of course," Verona says with a fanged smile as if it's the most common of things to say. She seems to understand. "So long as you've solved your dilemma." She shrugs, as if she, too, has taken advice from herself. There are worse people to give advice, after all.
Verona laughs suddenly, seeming to dance softly over to Jack, feet hovering inches above the ground. When she stops in front of him, she rather dramatically drapes herself across his lap, the glass of liquor in her hand managing to remain unspilt; shown out to him in offering. The clawed fingertips if her free hand smooth through the hair at the back of his head, lips pursed as if she is lost in thought, some faraway yearning. "Is it fun, sailing?" she suddenly asks, "It's so rare for us to go. Something about traveling with a coffin of dirt. — Tell me, Jack, do you have space for a coffin on your ship?"
















