"So, you what's your story?" The man seated at the desk in front of me, who was called Mr. Gibbs, inquired of me. I laugh short in my throat.
"My story?" I asked, taking a swig from the bottle in my hand, which was actually full of water. It was only in my hand to make me look like I belonged here, in this bar in Tortuga. I was signing up to be on the crew of the infamous ship The Black Pearl, which was owned by the equally notorious pirate Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Yes, ye ought to be here 'cause of a reason ye don't want to live, am I right?" Mr. Gibbs asked, tilting his head to the right a few inches. It takes me a second to realize he's probably flirting with me, but I brush away the notion. I need to get out of here, and fast. "That's all anyone 'round here wants." I laugh again, which startles the poor pirate, a scowl forming on his face. I note Jack has stopped fiddling with his compass to look over at us, his brow furrowed. Shaking my head, I answer him:
"No, I'm here to run away."