Praise from Ed doesn't come often, which means it really counts when it does. Izzy smiles, something soft and just for him. The barest call back to young men and easy laughter. When their spirits weighed less. When it wasn't anguish to get out of bed and survive another day lest they fall and drown.

Edward may be flirting with the idea of dying, but Israel Hands isn't ready. And despite his threat of living, he isn't ready to walk away and let Ed fall, either.

There's something poetic in the sentiment that Izzy doesn't have the force of will to put his finger on and parse out. It would mean confronting his idea of who and what Blackbeard should be. How he, and how Edward, fall into that great, looming shadow.

But he's signed himself away long ago, the promise worn with pride on his face.

Izzy Hands is two things: loyal to the bitter end- willing to do anything to prove it- and to his own disgust, hungry to be needed.

Two facets that help to craft the picture of a tired, vicious, stressed but hopeful man.

"Well, you know I. Someone has to keep things running, yeah. Can't let you have all the fun."

Another facet that can not go ignored is that he can not let himself be happy. He can not let this moment go so easily.

"Boss, you should know. I ran into Bonnet earlier. He-" god this is so fucking stupid he struggles to even say it.

One more facet to the gem: he does not lie to Edward.

"Grabbed my blade. Posturing like some...fucking child. So that's what that's about if he says."