The sounds of battle were mercifully fading, although Aziraphale's ears still rang from the clash of steel and the report of gun and canon fire. His knees ached from being unceremoniously shoved to the deck of the pirate ship, the iron of the shackles ice cold on his wrists. Outwardly calm, inwardly he was awash in a tumult of emotions. He grieved the loss of life, the reek of death filling his nostrils and he fretted over Gabriel's fury should he be discorporated.

"When is your so called 'Captain' going to grace me with his presence?" He said, suffusing his voice with as much distain as possible.

A heavy blow snapped the angel's head to the side, the pain bringing unexpected tears to his ocean coloured eyes.

"Don't tempt me to cut out yer tongue Navy dog! The Cap'n will see to you in his own good time, not yers!" One of the pirates who had captured him snapped.

Aziraphale's eyes widened and he pressed his lips into a thin line, keeping the retort from slipping out.