Luck of the Dice
Author: Stray The Metallic Imp
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or Pintel and Ragetti.
Genre: Uh…general/drama? Maybe?
Pairing: Moog
Rating: PG-13
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The pub was dim and hazy as well as loud and constricting. Jus the way a man known only as Pintel liked it. In this atmosphere you could disappear like a flash without a single person noticing and most were too drunk to attempt noticing in the first place.
He was a stout man, nearing his forties and loosing his hair quickly. His eyes were sharp but yellowed as they glanced around the room and he moved swifter than an onlooker would give him credit for at first glance. Not that anyone was onlooking. He spotted a large group of sailors near the back with a pile of gold and silver lying in a pile in the center of the ring. Some watched and swallowed long draughts of grog as the others concentrated on the dice that they threw. There was a groan and a round of cheers as one sailor rubbed his face as his coins were slid into the center and he surrendered his dice to walk away and get drunk in his disappointment.
Pintel grinned like an old tomcat that found a seagull with a broken wing.
Pushing through the crowd of drunks and whores he approached the table and surveyed it with interest. They were playing Scumbag, his best game. He eyed the winnings and felt his fingers twitch as the thought of those coins knocking together in his pockets presented itself. Had he truly been a tomcat, he would have purred at that moment and he watched the remaining players critically. There was four left, all middle aged and heavy set like himself. Though most were nearly a good head higher.
There was a round of cheers and another groan as a man with black muttonchops heaved himself out of his chair and walked off to wallow in his defeat. The table continued to laugh and several hands clapped onto the thickest and heaviest man's shoulders congratulating him on a good game. His voice was a deep baritone and when he drank deep from his mug, grog dripped out of the corners of his mouth and down into his thick brown beard.
Pintel slid into the open chair.
He was instantly leered at, laughed at, and greeted with mocking enthusiasm. Men clapped him on the back and dice were dropped into his hand. He and the three other men nodded and he placed three coins onto the table.
This dice were thrown.
A groan arouse from the man beside him and the group cheered as the unfortunate man pushed his coins into the pile and left. Pintel grabbed the man's grog and took a deep heavy drink. The man with the brown beard grinned showing off his black teeth and picked up his dice. He set two silver coins on the table and Pintel mimicked him by setting up one gold one alongside the three he already had down.
The remaining three men sized each other up and then threw down their dice.
The third man groaned and shoved his coins into the pile and heaved himself out of the circle. Pintel was patted on the back and somebody handed him a mug of grog but he didn't look away from his remaining challenger. He drank deeply and so did the other man.
The picked up their dice, and threw them.
What happened next was unexpected if even possible. The four dice hit the table and rolled to a stop. Everyone leaned in to see who had the lower number and would be the looser.
It was a tie.
Pintel slowly looked up and he smiled nastily at the man across from him and an identical smile met it. The circle was silent as it waited to see what would happen. Pintel took a drink from his grog and the other man mirrored him and they sat for a moment simply sizing each other up.
"Ah fink summat ser'ous needs ter be bet now."
Pintel smirked and answered with an "Aye." He raised an eyebrow as the man made a gesture to someone across the room and after a minute the ring opened to allow a beast of a man dragging a pale and scrawny young whelp into the circle of onlookers. The boy was rail thin and had a mop of unwashed blond hair hanging in his face. His eyes were a shocking shade of blue and they darted around frantically staring out at the group of men with a grimace on his face.
" 'es not much ta look at, but 'es gots a good mouth. Picked 'im off some slave traders comin' back from It'ly. Don' speak eng'ish much. But 'e ain' meant fer talkin' anyways. Whach'ya say? Deal?"
Pintel had never bet over a sex slave before. But he could always just let the lad go after he had the winnings and returned to The Oak Crest. That or he could sell the lad, or he could give the lad to the captain for a new cabin boy. He scratched his bead in though for a moment, and then grinned over at the man across from him as he jerked his head as to agree.
They each took one last drink of the burning grog and picked up their dice. Shaking them in his rough palm for a moment, he threw them down. Everyone leaned forward and watched the small wooden cubes tumbled and flipped until they fully cam to a stop.
The bearded man stared at his four and six with a grin until he looked over at Pintel's dice. His grin went slack and his mouth fell open.
A five and a seven.
It was silent for a good five seconds and then there was a rush of cheers and Pintel was being slapped on the back with men offering to buy him drinks. He was handed a sack and he scooped his earnings up and into it. The bearded man looked brokenly at the gold and silver that quickly disappeared and the man who had dragged over the lad released his hold and shoved the scrawny adolescent at Pintel with a smirk.
Taking a hold on the boy's bony wrist he led him away disappearing into the crowd and out the door into the hot humid night. Staring around at Tortuga looked back at the slack creature and while never realeasing his hold pointed at himself.
"Pintel."
The boy watched him daftly for a moment and blinked dully. Sighing the sea dog repeated the gesture to himself. "Pintel."
The second time it was once again met with a blank look. But recognition lit up the blue orb and it must have stuck because the young man nodded and pointed at his own scrawny chest.
"Agostino Baldasarre Giovanni Camine Ragetti."
Pintel blinked in surprise. Huge name, tiny person, he didn't understand it nor would he remember it. He sucked in a breath and tried to process what he had just been told.
"Err…aw'right. Lets shorten dat down ta, wot was dat last part, Ragetti? Aw'right, I'll call ye Ragetti. C'mon Ragetti, lets go see if de Cap'n would want a Cabin Brat. If not, well, guess I gotta keep ya, huh?"
The boy followed along dutifully but he stared at the man who had won him with admiration. He didn't drag him or shove him, just pulled him along at a steady pace. Softly he murmured under his breath as he stared up at the man in gratitude.
"Grazie per la vincita dello io, Pintel."