Matter of fact, no. Not a cotton ball. Sounded like somethin' a poofter would think. He was . . . a whatever. Yeh.
And there were more things cutting through the other big gray whatever, and some colors burst. Which was interestin'. The things sounded . . . like voices. He wondered what voices would be doin' here. Didn't they 'ave bodies?
His head bloody hurt. Wot in the seven 'ells -?
"I fink 'e's comin' 'round!"
No shit, really? Ya half-brained -
"Thank th' Lord. When 'e went down, I thought f' sure . . ."
"Don't you get yourself all worked up again," another voice warned. It was gravelly and sharp.
"M'not, honest, I jus' . . . 'e didn't look like 'e was breathin' an'-"
"Aye, drink yer grog and sit still. Pintel will be fine, I know him."
The voices were coming from up above. Pintel didn't like that. It meant he was lying down. And he didn't want to be lying down unless he'd laid himself down himself. Right. So he'd be getting up now . . .
. . . or not.
"'E fell hard. Ye didn't see 'ow hard -"
"Ragetti, drink your grog. He's fine! Just count yourself lucky he didn't fall through any rotten boards."
He was opening his eyes and getting up now . . .
"Bloody stupid Jack."
"Aye. We oughta do somethin' about that damn monkey. This is the third time something like this has happened."
"M-Maybe we could train 'im to use the latrines."
Now . . . FUCK.
"I mean 'e's gettin on in years and 'e ain't gonna always be able to bounce back." A wet swallow followed this tearful statement. "I . . . I dun' know what I'd do . . ."
Oh. No. He. DIDN'T.
Pintel saw something not gray. It was green, red, dirty, tawny-haired, and dripping tears off the end of a long nose. Pintel reached up a hand and seized the nose, yanking Ragetti down to the level of his chest.
"GETTIN' ON IN YEARS?! GETTIN' ON IN YEARS?!?!"
"Naw, naw, naw, Pinters!" Ragetti wailed nasally, grog spilling everywhere as he tried to free himself. "I only meant--"
"YOU SAYIN' I'm OLD?!" Pintel hollered. He sat up, pain hammering away at his skull to tell him it was a bad idea. It only made him all the more cross. He released Ragetti's nose, much to the younger man's relief, only to grab an ear instead. Ragetti wailed pitifully in protest.
"Jus' who was it put it into yer addle-pated head I'm 'gettin' OLD!? I'll teach you different 'afore the night is out, you believe me!" Pintel roared. Ragetti was whimpering frantically.
"Well I see you're both doing fine now," Marty said, getting off his stool and walking toward the stair.
"Don't leave me with him!" Rags begged wildly.
"Why? Don't ye think I'm too OLD an' FEEBLE to knock any sense in yer fool head?"
"OWWWW! OW-OW-OW! I-I never said feeble!"
Marty managed to keep a straight face all the way to the other end of the hold where a rather bemused Mr. Cotton was watching the squabble from his bunk.
"Married," Marty confirmed with a snort. "Definitely married."