Kurt and Logan docked and headed for the nearest bar on Madripoor. This was like Vegas on an island, the richest and the poorest resided there, along with the long-standing tradition of piratism. They weren't bad off for being pirates, and like always, they needed some extra fun after "work".
"But do you have to wear that," Logan growled.
Kurt looked at his pirate garb. The good old black trousers, wide red sash wrapped around his waist, fluffy white shirt, and wide-brimmed hat set at a jaunty angle. "What's wrong with it?"
"We get stared at," he stared down a few of those very business-minding challened people, making them seem to shrink a few inches in their very bones.
"I like traditional," Kurt snorted.
"You're the only one," he muttered, pushing through the door. Taking a seat, they kept an eye out for any friends or enemies they might have ripped off at one time or another. The list was small, and they had call to do so, but even limited enemies could be dangerous. Logan grabbed a passing redhead in a silken green dress. "Beer, lots of it," he snarled, swatting her ass.
"Get your own booze," she smacked his hand away.
"What," Logan replied flatly, staring the young woman right into her bright green and very angry eyes.
"Oh boy," Kurt sighed heavily. This wouldn't be the first or last time Logan got them in trouble for messing with women. He hoped she wasn't here with anyone, she looked young enough to be accompanied by an older brother or father, but just old enough to have a very large husband as well.
"I am not your serving girl," she crossed her arms over her chest, a petulant pout on her lips.
"For the right price you'll be just that and anything else I please," Logan showed her a large sum of money from the inside jacket pocket. The woman instantly changed her tune, going to get them drinks.
"There. Now," she held out her slender hand.
"Later," he motioned for her to sit.
"I did your fetchin'."
"You did it well enough, after you refused-and you struck me."
"I don't work here, you have no right to grab anybody just passing by."
"Don't much care," he smirked.
"Know what, never you mind. I like the look," she smiled at Kurt, weaving her way through the crowd.
"Somethin' funny about that one."
"She liked my outfit," Kurt grinned happily, leaning back in the chair.
"We got drinks, that one don't matter until we run out. Then I'll just grab another. Too bad, her backside felt firm, kinda bouncy...could've had some fun with that one."
"That one just picked your pocket, I think."
"How could she, I-" Logan put his hand into his jacket. "That bitch!"
"I'll pay this time," Kurt happily put his money down on the table.
Logan shoved through the crowd, smelling the air. "This way."
"We aren't hurting for money."
"It's the principle of the thing."
"We haven't been much for principles before."
"We are when they're needed. Now," he sniffed again, catching her scent down an alleyway.
"Do you have a bad feeling about this? Because I do," Kurt looked around them warily.
"If we didn't, we wouldn't be on Madripoor."
He sensed her nearby, darting around the corner to grab her by the arm.
"You owe me money, little girl."
"You need to let me go."
"Why," he gave a laugh that sounded like a bark.
"They'll shoot you if you don't," she smiled, pointing at eight gunmen above them.
"Shit," Logan muttered, nodding for Kurt to raise his arms above his head while doing so himself.
They barely had their fingertips to their shoulders when they both crumpled to the ground unconscious. "Get 'em inside," the redhead instructed.