The room was just beginning to obtain that warm, fuzzy glow that just
the right amount of rum would give it. Enough so you could overlook the
shoddy company and bad drinks, but not so much that it was whirling and
lurching with the tumult to make a hurricane look tame. Just perfect.
The local swines seemed absent tonight, leaving the tavern to the will of a bizarre crew that had washed onto the rocky shores of Daemon's Pointe shortly before he had. A young lot, inexperienced to be sure. Still had all their teeth. You could always tell a green set of pirates by their teeth. And of course, being cocky was a game Jack constantly played, but these boys were extreme. By the way they swigged from their mugs you'd think they'd conquered the Princess of England's heart, pillaged the entirety of Europe, and made it back to the Caribbean in an hour on Zephyrus' breath and blessing.
Most irritating, here he was, sitting plain in the light, clear as day for all to see. Not one, not ONE of these mutts had bothered to glance over, gasp in shock and proclaim, "look't there! That's Cap'n Jack Sparrow, it 's!" Was he perhaps blending in too well with this common riff- raff? That had never seemed to be a problem before...
The rowdy noise fell silent around him, breaking him from his trance of thought. All of them were staring at a new arrival, a man dressed in shiny new gentleman's attire. Navy blue dresscoat with brass buttons, three cornered hat with ostrich plume, boots that seemed to illuminate with pride at their maiden trudge into this hole. One, two beats of shock, and they all broke into hysterical drunken laughter.
"An' jus' where did ya get that getup, Artie Priss 'n Boots?" An amused, slightly elder slid off his chair, throwing an arm around his gilded mate.
"I stole it from th' mansion on th' hill, I did," he proclaimed proudly, pumping out his chest.
"Why?"
"How else're we gonna get inta th' ball?" He inquired quizzically, as if answering a question as simple as "why do you breathe?"
"Ya thought that we were all gonna go in an' charm 'er into the boat?" He threw his head back in laughter, shoving the confused pirate into the counter. "We're pirates! We're gonna bust in an' scare th' shit outta these stuffy fools, grab th' heiress an' go!"
Cheers rose as the pirates rallied together, pushing Artie out the door as they prepared for their debut as the worst pirates the Caribbean had ever seen.
So these ametuers thought they were going to get The Heiress. These neophytes, without so much as a vomit or blood stain on their boots to be proud of. But interesting.
Very interesting, indeed.
The local swines seemed absent tonight, leaving the tavern to the will of a bizarre crew that had washed onto the rocky shores of Daemon's Pointe shortly before he had. A young lot, inexperienced to be sure. Still had all their teeth. You could always tell a green set of pirates by their teeth. And of course, being cocky was a game Jack constantly played, but these boys were extreme. By the way they swigged from their mugs you'd think they'd conquered the Princess of England's heart, pillaged the entirety of Europe, and made it back to the Caribbean in an hour on Zephyrus' breath and blessing.
Most irritating, here he was, sitting plain in the light, clear as day for all to see. Not one, not ONE of these mutts had bothered to glance over, gasp in shock and proclaim, "look't there! That's Cap'n Jack Sparrow, it 's!" Was he perhaps blending in too well with this common riff- raff? That had never seemed to be a problem before...
The rowdy noise fell silent around him, breaking him from his trance of thought. All of them were staring at a new arrival, a man dressed in shiny new gentleman's attire. Navy blue dresscoat with brass buttons, three cornered hat with ostrich plume, boots that seemed to illuminate with pride at their maiden trudge into this hole. One, two beats of shock, and they all broke into hysterical drunken laughter.
"An' jus' where did ya get that getup, Artie Priss 'n Boots?" An amused, slightly elder slid off his chair, throwing an arm around his gilded mate.
"I stole it from th' mansion on th' hill, I did," he proclaimed proudly, pumping out his chest.
"Why?"
"How else're we gonna get inta th' ball?" He inquired quizzically, as if answering a question as simple as "why do you breathe?"
"Ya thought that we were all gonna go in an' charm 'er into the boat?" He threw his head back in laughter, shoving the confused pirate into the counter. "We're pirates! We're gonna bust in an' scare th' shit outta these stuffy fools, grab th' heiress an' go!"
Cheers rose as the pirates rallied together, pushing Artie out the door as they prepared for their debut as the worst pirates the Caribbean had ever seen.
So these ametuers thought they were going to get The Heiress. These neophytes, without so much as a vomit or blood stain on their boots to be proud of. But interesting.
Very interesting, indeed.