"Here they are."
Barbossa set down the cup calmly, though it was still full to the brim with wine. He stood as the large black man stooped to enter his cabin, dragging with him two struggling men. Both of which the Bo'sun shoved un-gently before the Captain.
"Masters Pintel and Ragetti," Hector said in a mockery of warmth, opening his arms. "I've been informed you two would be taking a midnight ferry away from the company of the Pearl."
Ragetti avoided his gaze and took a step back, behind Pintel. The older man flared, getting his bearings. "Tha's right. We don't want any part o' this curse."
"Ah. Ye think if you leave, the curse will simply forget about you and leave the rest of us to rot?"
"We found the coins we spent and we paid our blood debt already. Ye don't need us anymore," Pintel argued, half wheedling. He was afraid. Barbossa could tell that much. Ragetti, however, was nearly petrified.
"On the contrary, the heathen gods may be thirstier still and there's still four hundred coins that haven't been accounted for. Your work is far from over, gentlemen. We're all in this."
Pintel's eyes flashed. "Ye can't kill us if we decide to leave."
Barbossa's back was to them as he picked up the wine. In one fluid motion he turned hurling the glass. Pintel just managed to duck, throwing up an arm against the arc of liquid before its delicate container shattered behind them. Ragetti clutched at him, nearly hysterical with fear. Angry, Pintel shoved him away. He wiped at his face and soaked jacket, cursing. Ragetti looked down in misery and Barbossa took in the sight of him, eye patch and all.
Hector knew what had prompted this. Their last battle had proven them less invincible than they'd thought. They could not die, but injuries could be sustained through loss. Oh you could put the pieces of a bone back together, fit a leg back into its socket, surely. Provided you could find said items. Ragetti had failed to retrieve his eye in all the chaos and the ship they had sunk was long gone. It was a loss he felt sorely and by consequence, so did Pintel.
"I think we should break their backs and hang 'em in pieces from the yardarm," the Bo'sun suggested, sneering. Barbossa rolled his eyes, deciding not to remind the man of his own flighty panic when he'd seen his flesh melt away to bone under the moonlight.
His gaze went to Ragetti, who looked terrorized at the thought and back to Pintel who was glancing at the tall man in apology. "Cap'n Barbossa, you've no further need of us," Pintel said, switching his tone to a pleading one.
"And where will you go, Master Pintel, the two of ye? Will you go back to Isle de Muerta and wait for some passing whim of mercy from the gods who cursed us? Or will ye make yourselves into a sideshow attraction for bread and board, while we toil to lift the curse ourselves? No?"
Barbossa's gaze was piercing and Pintel could not meet it. Ragetti didn't even try. He tilted his head, looking over Ragetti again. Hector smirked. "Bo'sun, remove Master Ragetti's eye patch, if ye'd be so kind."
The response was immediate. Bo'sun stepped forward and Ragetti whirled wildly, hand going for his knife and holding it out in front of him. "Ye stay the 'ell away from me and Pint or you'll be needin' it for yourself!" he spat, shakily. Pintel reached for his own pistol before cursing; Bo'sun had relieved them of firearms before hauling them into Barbossa's cabin.
The large man snorted, amused, and moved fast. He seized Ragetti's wrist and whirled him, twisting his arm behind his back while Bo' sun's other hand ripped the patch from his face. There was an ugly hole where a blue eye had once been. Ragetti made a sound of despair and struggled, trying to snatch the item back. Pintel lunged and Bo'sun repelled his attack with a kick.
Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Barbossa fired his pistol. Cursed or not, it was useful for silencing arguments. Bullets still hurt plenty, after all. He reached out a hand and Bo'sun tossed him the eye patch. Ragetti was freed, instantly at Pintel's side as the man sorely climbed back to his feet.
"Please give it back," Ragetti asked quietly, seeing that Pintel was fine. His hand was over his empty socket, but his good eye was trained on Hector. Barbossa looked back coolly. He'd seen what he needed to.
"What say you, Master Ragetti? Do you too no longer have a use for us?"
"I go where Pintel goes," he said firmly.
"And Master Pintel stays where you stay." Barbossa reached into his pocket, approaching Ragetti who backed away warily. "The Pearl and its Captain still have a use for you, blood debt or not." He gripped Ragetti's face, forcing his chin up and removing his hand from over his face. "Tsk. Vanity fells us all, Master Ragetti."
Pintel was bristling like a mad cat, still shadowed by the Bo'sun but ready to hurl himself at Barbossa regardless of the pistol. Barbossa noted this and smiled. His hand went to the back of Ragetti's neck, pulling him forward and forcing his head up as Barbossa hissed words into his ear. He gazed at Pintel all the while, smiling as the man went from shocked to infuriated, this time for different reasons than a supposed threat.
Ragetti was shaking. But when Barbossa pulled back enough to face him, he didn't move. Barbossa jerked the man's chin up and placed an object over the right side of Ragetti's face. Pintel heard Rags yelp in pain and he stepped forward snarling, only to be nearly flattened by the Bo' sun's arm slamming into his chest.
"You'll be wantin' to stay on the ship now, I presume," Barbossa asked, again in that mockingly kind tone. He traced a finger over Ragetti's face. Rags followed its motion with his good eye, looking sick. But much to Pintel's chagrin, he nodded.
Pintel exploded. "WHOT in the seven hells are ya sayin', you idiot?!"
"Pint . . ."
"Show him how fine you look, Master Ragetti."
Ragetti looked at Barbossa, shaking his head frantically. Barbossa gripped his face and turned it for him. Ragetti's good eye was shut in horror. The other one had a wooden ball stuffed into it, a parody of a prosthetic. The sight made Pintel swell up with rage.
He looked at Barbossa's smug grin, too angry to form words.
Barbossa laughed. "For purposes of vanity concerning your young swain, Master Pintel, bone will wear down against wood and it shall fit better over time. All he has to do is take care of it. Not lose it, for I'll know. And certainly not try to jump ship with it. You know the penalty for stealing a Piece of Eight has gotten even less pleasant since the first establishment of the Code."
Pintel gaped, turning pale. He knew better than Ragetti that they were stuck here now. When a Pirate Lord made you his piece-bearer, there was no relief from that duty until either death or the Pirate Lord himself released you.
Death, as they all well knew, was not currently one of the options.
It wasn't among one of the punishments for failure either. Pintel shuddered, remembering that part all too well. So long as there was life in his body, he would not let that happened to Ragetti.
Apparently neither would Barbossa. For next, he leveled his gaze on Bo'sun. "You'll watch them as well. For if anything inadvertently or suddenly happens to my Piece of Eight or its Bearer, I'm counting you as responsible."
Bo'sun nodded stiffly and departed the cabin. He could hide a plethora of emotions behind that mask.
"Once the curse be lifted," Barbossa went on, putting his arm around Ragetti and walking him casually toward the door. Pintel frowned heatedly, storming along beside them. "Perhaps I'll release ye both from my services, and you can go on to get yourself a proper glass eye." He smiled lewdly at Pintel and leaned forward, growling something in Ragetti's ear that made the younger man giggle nervously and try to pull away. Pintel had just about ENOUGH of this.
"Come on!" He roared, seizing Ragetti's arm and departing the cabin in a frenzy of rage.
"Pint, careful, me eye!"
"Blast yer eye! What the 'ell did he say? Out wit it! Every bloody word!"
Barbossa did a very good job at not looking smug in the doorway as he saw them off. To the men that were loitering about, he turned and bellowed. "Turn yer faces back into yer tasks at hand, ye begotten sons o' maggots!" They scattered. The Captain strode back into his cabin, well pleased with himself.