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Title: Too Many Rooms
Author: Aletheia Felinea
Beta: [livejournal.com profile] triskellion Thank you!
Rating: PG
Characters: Governor Weatherby Swann and [spoiler censored]
Wordcount: 440
Summary: Just a usual evening in the Caribbean.
Disclaimer: PotC is Disney's, the bedroom is the Governor's, Treasure Map Deadhand font is GemFont's, Blackadder font is Bob Anderton's, the paper is mine.

If you prefer to read in Polish, tędy proszę.
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The bedroom’s door had already shut behind the dismissed valet when Governor Weatherby Swann decided that, given the exceptionally chilly night, he needs a dressing gown. He reached for the bell, but changed his mind before half completing the gesture and moved to the wardrobe instead. One could catch a chill before the half-deaf servant heard and walked back through the miles of corridor…

Opening the wardrobe, he recalled that the gown had been left on a chair. So he shut the doors, only to jerk them back open again and gape.

“Evenin’.” Jack Sparrow grinned.

“How…! Why…! What are you doing here?”

“Er… mistook it for the young Missy’s bedroom?” Sparrow said tentatively.

Swann went purple and fumbled for his sword, before he remembered he wore no sword in his own home, and certainly not on the way to bed.

The pirate hastily raised his hands and stepped back, almost knocking off his hat against the wardrobe’s back. “Righ, right!” He adjusted the hat. “Been lookin’ for the money box.”

“Oh…” Swann sighed with relief. Then he frowned. “But there is no money box here.”

Sparrow scratched at his temple, tilting his hat again. “Hmm, that could explain why I haven’ found it.”

The Governor blinked and suddenly felt the need to put all this talk on the right track. “Splendid!” he growled. “Commodore Norrington has been searching for you. I shall inform him immediately he doesn’t need to anymore.”

Now the pirate opened his eyes wide. “At this hour? I’m sorry to say it, Your Excellency, but it would be to the highest degree indecoro—!”

Swann shoved him deeper into the wardrobe, slammed the door, and turned the key. Then he rushed to the corridor, absentmindedly wiping his hands against his nightshirt.

A short time later, three fourth of the mansion guard dashed into the bedroom, the Governor following hard at their heels. The fourth man, relieved from the day shift two hours before, ran in at the end, barefoot, wigless, musket under his arm, and buttoning up his breeches.

The wardrobe, empty if one did not count the nightclothes and linens spilling out, was wide open, same as the window. The captain of the guard ran up to it and noticed a scrap of paper on a nearby table, secured by a candlestick and trembling in the draft. He sheathed his sword, picked the paper and read:


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Your thoughts are most welcomed, as always. But don't ask me which door will be broken first, I don't know it. I can only have my guesses. ;)

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