(Untitled)

[clumsy_auror]

The days that Nymphadora's been back have sped by far more quickly than she'd like. There've been near-daily visits to the Healers, for tests and exams and ultrasounds, and Durkin's been scratching his head trying to re-calculate Charlotte's exact due date. Then there's Allbright, who hugged her, told her off, and dumped a foot-high stack of

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[bad_in_latin]

Mal got any notes there were to be had a little late -- he'd not been coming in but for bartending, and at the end of his shift Bar thought to deliver a scrawled thing from Dora.

And Mal sprints directly upstairs.

He's already one timid knock in when he decides its way too late to be visiting, and turns to wait until tomorrow.

[clumsy_auror]

But Nymphadora wasn't sleeping; Charlotte's playing football, or similar, and that's not really something that exactly lulls you to sleep. So barely a moment passes before the door opens and she stands there, framed in the door, clad in rubber ducky flannel pajamas.

When she realizes who it is, 'Dora squeaks and lunges for Mal, dropping the book in her hand in the process.

[bad_in_latin]

The book lands with a rather resounding thud.

Dumbstruck and stiff, "...You're gonna wake everyone up."

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora ignores him, hugging him tightly. "Christ, Mal, we thought you were dead."

[bad_in_latin]

Mal loosens (as much as he can, with Dora hanging on so tight), and lays his arms around the smaller woman's shoulders. "Will served me up to Sao Feng. I traded my gun to get out o' jail."

[clumsy_auror]

Horrified, "He did what? Will-- he did what?"

As she speaks, Nymphadora pulls him inside and shuts the door, kicking the book inside beforehand.

"There's gotta be some kind of misunderstanding. Because you were risking your neck to help him."

[bad_in_latin]

Clipped and wy, "Mmmm no, I'm pretty sure I had it right with that one.

"...Is he back?"

[clumsy_auror]

"He's-- he's-- what the fuck. And no, as far as I know he can't ever come back. He got his heart torn out and now he's the sodding captain of the sodding Dutchman, and it's a good thing he isn't coming back, because if he does I'll gut him like a fish, Elizabeth or no Elizabeth!"

[bad_in_latin]

"Wait, what? I don't even know what that means, Dora, slow down -- "

[clumsy_auror]

Looking distracted, 'Dora drifts over to the couch and collapses onto it, patting the space next to her. "Davy Jones. He was the captain of the Flying Dutchman, the ship that went around and gathered up all the sailors who shipwrecked. Was supposed to carry them to the land of the dead, but he didn't. Anyway they got rid of Davy Jones, and somehow or other Will's heart ended up in the little locked box where Jones' used to be, and that makes him the captain of the Dutchman."

Nymphadora pauses and draws in a much-needed breath.

"And now he can only come ashore once every ten years."

[bad_in_latin]

Mal doesn't sit until the very end of her explanation.

"...Kind o' makes the wanting to feed him to sharks a bit...redundant."

[clumsy_auror]

"But only a bit," she says witheringly, and collapses against the couch cushions with a huff. "But. You're not dead. So that's all right. Or at least, better than nothing."

[bad_in_latin]

"Better 'n dead, shi a. What happened with everyone? Elizabeth?

"Jack?" he adds, even if what happened with Will makes that sound like a pipe dream.

[clumsy_auror]

"Um, well."

Nymphadora draws in a deep breath and rubs one eye.

"Everyone's all right, far as I can tell. Jack got the Pearl back, and Elizabeth and Will got married, and the East India ships got pretty well bollocksed in the last fight."

[bad_in_latin]

"Elizabeth and Will got married? I'm assuming that's...before, the...y'know."

[clumsy_auror]

Her face scrunches up as 'Dora tries to piece together the timeline. "Right around then, actually. Either just before or just after? It was all very chaotic."