"Dat, dey do," she agreed. It wasn't her agenda, though. Her task was to invoke the ire of Davy Jones. It would feel good, after all these years.
"It feel good t' be on de sea 'gain!" she purred, as they crossed the docks stretching over the harbor. With her arm secure on his, she was safe to walk above it and his permission upon the ship ensured that she would not be harmed by setting foot upon it. This was part of her curse, that she could not endure the sea without the permission of another. And a strong curse it was. The sea was her life, her love, her essence. She hated those men who had bound her, but of the nine Pirate Lords, only Jack Sparrow remained. If she was to break the curse, she needed to find some new means.