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“Hey there, big boy,” said Stede.
The gaoler, who barely reached Stede’s nose, glared at him. “Are you havin’ a fuckin’ laugh?”
“What? No!” cried Stede, stepping back from the bars as the gaoler pulled a rather over-sized nightstick from his belt. The gaoler narrowed his eyes at Stede, but eventually turned and stomped away. Stede sighed. “Well, that’s us out of options. Perhaps he just isn’t that way inclined.”
The gaol echoed with the crew’s grumbled agreement.
“Izzy hasn’t tried,” said the Swede. The rest of the crew laughed, but Stede nodded.
“That’s true—Izzy! Wake up, man, it’s your turn to attempt to seduce our gaoler.”
Izzy, who was lying on the cot in the cell opposite Stede, arms crossed, didn’t open his eyes, but said, “I would honestly rather be hanged.”
“Oh, come now. It’s only fair. It’s not as if you can do worse than the rest of us.”
“You don’t think he might have worked out what you’ve been trying to do?”
Stede was rather stymied by this—it was true that some of the crew had been somewhat unsubtle in their attempts.
“Izzy,” said Ed, from his cell at the other end of the gaol.
“Fine, whatever. Wake me when he’s due to come round again.”
There wasn’t a great deal to do while waiting to be hanged—a few of the crew were attempting to dig their way out, and Stede didn’t like to discourage them, despite the obvious lack of progress they were making and the stinking moat that would likely drain into the cells if they got past the walls. Buttons was attempting to commune with one of the gaol’s rats, in the hope that it could be encouraged to steal the gaoler’s keys.
As the time for the gaoler’s evening rounds approached, Stede flicked a pebble at Izzy. “You’re up!” he said encouragingly.
Izzy sighed, but sat up, then stood and stretched. He untied his cravat, placing his ring carefully in an inner pocket, and undid several buttons at his throat. Someone in the crew tittered, quickly hushed. Izzy ignored them.
He tousled his hair and, as the gaoler entered, slouched against the bars of his cell. It wasn’t a seductive pose, exactly—Izzy leaned against the bars as if pressing towards freedom, fingers of one hand grasped too desperately around the bars. It made him look vulnerable.
Stede gaped at him, barely pulling himself together as the gaoler approached.
The gaoler was handing out water—one meal a day being their lot—and eyed Stede with particular suspicion as he handed over a bent tin cup. Then he turned to do the same for Izzy, who let his fingers brush against the gaoler’s as he took the cup, and said, “Thank you,” in a voice so soft as to be unrecognisable. His gaze flicked up to the gaoler, then quickly away, as he clasped the cup in trembling fingers. As the gaoler turned to leave, Izzy said, “Can I—“ and broke off, hesitant. The gaoler paused, and Izzy flicked his gaze up and away again. “I know I have no right to ask for anything,” he said, a tremor creeping into his voice, “but it’s so very cold—could I trouble you for a blanket?”
“Don’t have any spare blankets,” said the gaoler. He stepped closer to the bars, and Izzy leaned towards him. “But there’s other ways to get warm.”
Izzy frowned slightly, as if confused - even this, so close to his usual demeanour, seemed entirely alien. Then he let the appearance of realisation creep across his face, and ducked his head. He looked up through his lashes at the gaoler, and bit his lip. “Not when there’s so many—“ Izzy let a touch of breathlessness enter his voice, “watching, surely?”
Stede had to look away, for the sake of his own sanity. This meant he could see the crew, who were—with the exception of Buttons, who was still concentrating on the rat—watching with varying expressions of bemusement and horror (and, in Lucius’ case, sheer delight).
“Well, some folks like that,” said the gaoler, and Izzy gave a little gasp. Stede’s increasingly panicked gaze reached Ed at the far end of the gaol. Ed, who stood with his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes flashing with anger. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take you next door. The guard room’s mighty cold, too.”
“Thank you,” said Izzy softly. There was the soft click of a key turning, then the cell door creaking, and then, after a moment, a rather horrible choking noise. Stede spun around in time to see Izzy let the gaoler’s body fall to the ground, his customary frown back in place. He leant down to pluck the keys from the gaoler’s slack hand, before standing up and running his hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. It didn’t help, but he no longer looked—
Stede gulped.
Izzy stepped over the gaoler and approached Stede’s cell. Stede pretended he hadn’t been gaping. Izzy paused with the key in the lock, his scowl deepening. “Not a fucking word from you,” he snarled. Stede shook his head rapidly.
No, he wasn’t going to say, or think, anything about this situation ever again.