(Untitled)

[goodform]

*in the captain's rooms, the candles are lit: the pirate himself is sat at the recalcitrant harpsichord which gave him such trouble when he first moved it in, repetitively pinging at one of the keys with the point of the hook. The illuminated copy of Paradise Lost lies open on the instrument's top. The recent fight with Spider, although he won

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[goodform]

*Ping.*

Mr Monk.

*he doesn't turn around*

[goodform]

*the hook is arrested in coming down for another stab at a key. His voice is silken, slightly edged*

Talk to me.

[goodform]

*Pause. Brief glance over at Monk*

*Ping. Ping...*

Is this man from your world?

[goodform]

*Ping. Ping. Scrape! Hook is out of his chair in a moment, pain in his legs be damned, and stalking toward Monk like the wrath of God, or, possibly worse, the wrath of Hook.*

She is not.

[goodform]

*the glower doesn't fade. He doesn't like this at all, in case Brigham had somehow managed to miss it*

Do you truly believe she could be in danger from this man?

[goodform]

*If Hook has learnt anything, it's that being forewarned is being forearmed (and that people who make puns about forearms in his presence occasionally do not live to regret it). He nods, eyes still tight with anger, and not a little suspicion. Brigham has so far not led him wrong, but his natural wariness has kept him alive more than once*

You know more of this man than I. It is nothing more than good sense for you to tell Ali all you know of the threat he poses. I will do all I can to be of help.

[goodform]

*the sudden rush of protective anger on Ali's behalf still hanging about him like smoke, he answers Brigham's more simple question somewhat wearily*

I have been busy. *head-tilt* No costume today?

[goodform]

*Rapid mental language adjustment. Sarcasm initiated.*

Forgive me, but I thought that was your whole intention in wearing it. Why would you wish to spare my poor feelings today?