DRAKE responds, stepping forward, almost shouting at SABRE. His vehemence is taking her aback.
1. DRAKE: Believe me, you shrieking harpy, I’d be ashore now if I could manage it!
Past SABRE, jaw clenching as DRAKE lets her have it, all of his frustrations pouring out.
Past SABRE, we can see GISELLE watching from behind the CAPSTAN. Her eyes are wide.
2. DRAKE: A Maker’s Curse on you and your pirates the day we met!
3. DRAKE: A band of bandits and murderers the lot of you!
DRAKE pressing on SABRE, frustration erupting. SABRE is no longer taken aback—now she’s pissed.
4. SABRE: I’d watch my words, Marshal Drake. You’re far from home, now.
5. DRAKE: Aye, because you most like to kidnapped my friend and me!
6. DRAKE: You paint yourself some patriot and hero, but I know a villain when I meet one, Lady Sabre…
On SABRE, reacting. Horribly wounded and verging on outrage.
10. DRAKE: …and you’re like to as vile as they come!
SABRE belts DRAKE, punching him across the jaw.
It’s a good punch, and it rattles him.
DRAKE straightens up, staring at SABRE, rubbing his jaw.
SABRE stands in front of him, simmering fury, fists clenched.
DRAKE punches SABRE across the jaw.
On SABRE, on the DECK, hand to her jaw, furious. Cold, quiet fury.
1. SABRE/small: Mister Thane.
2. SABRE/small: Put these… colonials off my ship.