But I do...he wanted to protest long before he heard her reason. He suspected her eyes were beautiful things to look at, when looked at properly. When held and when connected with. But his hopes sank like so many pebbles when he heard that heady mix of qualities in her voice.

Only...only it wasn't quite the rejection he was expecting. Rather: "Ah. And no kind lass wants to peer at a soldier's soul." Funny, that. He'd never given much thought to his soul before now. But after Jack Sparrow's conversation on the front step of his apartment building, he'd been considering it more seriously. His soul and whether a decent woman ought to find his wanting or not.

"It's bound to be patchwork, by now."

Her gaze may have dropped, but he made certain to still watch her face.