You step aboard willingly this time, chin high, eyes bright with defiance. “Teach me,” you tell him. “I want to know how to command.”

Hook studies you like a puzzle he’s not sure he should solve. Then, a grin. “Very well, little Pan. First lesson—never look away from the blade.” Days turn to nights of strategy, stolen glances, shared laughter. The crew calls you ‘First Mate.’ Hook calls you ‘Mine’—though never when others can hear.