He sat in a dim corner of Kiwi and Mozu's thinking things over to himself with only a tall pint glass to answer him back. A cigar burnt down between his fingers almost untouched the whole time he'd had it lit, distractedly using it more like a reverse air freshener.

"Do we have to tell you off every night for smoking in here?" Kiwi complained, mopping at his table.

"God it's warm," Paulie muttered.

"At least you opened the window."

"Makes no difference, just as warm out there."

"Not that." She pointed. "The cigar. Put it out, alright?"

"Sorry," Paulie replied and stubbed it absently into his ashtray.

"Not even an argument?" Kiwi asked, bewildered. "Not like you. You seem kind of off today, you alright?"

Paulie shrugged, staring straight through the glass he'd been nursing for over an hour now.

"Let me talk to him," came a croak from across the bar. "Sometimes a man needs silence, but sometimes a man needs a mother's ear."

He glanced up in a daze to find the bar's most frequent regular hobbling their way. "Ms Kokoro?"

"You're looking awful preoccupied there Paulie. Mind if I sit with you?"

He hesitated a moment. "Go ahead, you might as well."

"I'd offer you a drink on me, but looks like you're still busy with that." She gestured at his glass, still half full or half empty depending on who you'd ask about it.

Paulie was a mutable sort and more of the half empty type of late.

"Yeah. No thanks, I'm still good here," he replied.

"What's wrong? Still missing your friends?" she slurred, and settled herself down with little grace.

"Friends?" Paulie muttered. "I was the only one that ever thought that, but whatever. I'm fucking done with thinking about all that."

He took a draw of his cigar and sighed. It was long, weary and thick with ashy toned smoke.

"I've really fucked up this time."

"And you need to talk about it? Well kid, I'm here and listening."

He nervously sucked in smoke, letting it circle laps of his mouth. "It feels like the sort of thing it'd be bad to let anyone in on."

"Not to boast, but I'm pretty good at keeping secrets. Course, cause I'm just a drunk old lady no one takes me seriously even if something slips out anyway." She cackled. "Are you going to finish that?" she added, gesturing towards his pint.

Without waiting for a response, she scooped it up and finished it off.

Paulie watched her with a scowl. "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence in you."

"Come on kid," she coaxed and almost as clumsily as she sat down, she got back to her feet. "Let's head somewhere a bit more private. I'll be your confidant."

He paused. Then shrugged and clambered off his seat without argument. "Alright," he said reluctantly, fishing in his top pocket for his lighter and a fresh cigar for the train journey.

"See you tomorrow girls!" Kokoro waved back to the bar front, as Paulie scuffled behind her.

"See you both again tomorrow," the sisters called back.

They sat together at her kitchen table with glasses sat out between them. Kokoro produced half a dozen bottles, clinking them together into a busy crowd at the centre. Paulie tapped his cigar into a makeshift ashtray they fashioned for him from an empty milk carton.

"What'll your poison be?" she asked.

"I'll drink whatever," he answered. He was unsure what half the bottles even were, scrawled in foreign words he'd no idea how to pronounce and would feel stupid trying. "Something strong."

"No real point in drinking anything soft." She picked out a few bottles and threw splashes together impulsively in their glasses. "I'm a drunk, you're a gambler, these are our crosses to bear. Here you go. We'll call this cocktail a Paulie, hah! Don't know how it'll taste mind."

She slid a glass his way, and he took a tentative sip, reeling at the sharpness. "If you want to get drunk, that'll do it," he said.

"That good is it?" she laughed.

"A spoonful of medicine would go down far easier."

She splashed a little more in his glass. "So, about this big mess of yours Paulie?"

With the all the hours Galley La was placing into city repairs, work at the docks for the past couple of weeks was falling by the wayside. With repairs still ongoing at the docks themselves too, they weren't taking on shipbuilding projects for the foreseeable future, and while the shipwrights were used to dealing with unruly customers in whatever way necessary, those customers took even less kindly to being told their ships wouldn't be fixed than they did with the fair bills they'd always kick up a wild fuss about afterwards.

Between the stresses of work and recovery and the gap in his downtime left by the missing bastards he used to spend most of it with, certain guys whose names no one at Galley La dared to mention around him anymore, Paulie found himself dealing with gambling debts mounting even higher than usual.

"Yeah yeah, you'll get it, end of the week for sure," he called down the receiver of his transponder snail.

"End of this week Paulie."

"I said that. And I do mean it."

"Look, I'm pretty easy on you. You're a hard worker, and no matter how many times I have to come knocking on your door, I know you produce the goods eventually, right?"

"Right, of course. You're very generous." Paulie hated ass-kissing, but as a chronic gambler, it came with the job requirements.

"But I need that money promptly this time. My Grandmother has taken sick."

"Oh, uh, sorry to hear," he answered with sympathy, but also a little suspicion out of necessity. "Is it serious?"

"Yes, she's not in a good way at all."

"That's… unfortunate."

"It is."

The line went quiet for some time. Hesitantly, Paulie gave him the answer he knew the man was looking for. "Is there anything I can do?"

"We need to get her an operation. Problem is the waiting list's miles long. But here's the thing, if someone important, say maybe the Mayor were to put a word in, I think we'd have a chance of getting her seen sooner."

"You want me to ask Mr Iceburg to get in contact with the hospital?"

"It's a minor favour Paulie, in return for all I've done for you over the years."

"Look," he asserted, starting to lose some of his forced patience. "I'm sorry about your Grandmother, I really am. But I always promised myself I'd never get my boss involved with my debts."

"That's too bad Paulie, you know?"

"Yeah, it is. You'll get your money end of the week guaranteed, but I'm sorry. I just can't help on this one."

"Have a little think about it Paulie," he warned. "Let me know tomorrow if you change your mind alright? Otherwise I might need that money a bit earlier and I might have to send my guys over to collect it. And they really don't like having to visit people who can't give them what they want. Get a bit angry sometimes."

"Is that a threat?"

"Call me when you change your mind."

"Look, I'll ask him ok? That's all I can do," he relented.

"Thank you Paulie. That really means a lot, you know?"

"Yeah yeah." Paulie clapped the receiver back down on his snail, and let his face fall into his palms.

It had been a unanimous decision among the shipwrights that one of their first priorities for the city repairs was to rebuild the company headquarters. Not only did Galley La need their base back, but their boss needed a home, and despite Iceburg's insistence otherwise, none of them were happy to leave him still recovering from the assassination attempts in their hastily thrown together temporary shelter.

The new headquarters was near identical to the old one. Standing in the hallway outside Iceburg's office, it was eerily easy to mistake everything that had happened in the old building as just scenes from some horrific nightmare.

Paulie knocked. "Mr Iceburg, sir?"

"No need to be so formal Paulie," came Iceburg's dampened voice from behind his new door. "And the door's unlocked, you can come on in."

He remained engrossed in his work on Paulie's entrance, head bent low over his drafting table. His mouse sat on his shoulder faithfully watching him sketch.

Stacks of unfinished paperwork littered his desk. Presumably the lack of someone to take care of the details for him was taking a toll. Heavy books were piled high around the room, and large sheets blotted in dark ink lay spread out on the floor.

Paulie crossed the room carefully, tentative not to step on or topple something over.

"Sorry, force of habit sir, uh I mean…"

"Well, that's quite alright," Iceburg laughed.

Paulie shrugged awkwardly." So I always told myself I'd never come to you about this."

He didn't hide his vice, couldn't if he tried. Scenes of him being chased down for cash in the cobbled streets of the shipbuilding district were a regular enough occurrence for the other shipwrights to always laugh it off. But he'd never wanted to rope anyone else into what should have been his own mess and his alone. Iceburg least of all.

Iceburg stopped what he was doing to look over at him, carefully sliding off his glasses. "Debt again? How much do you need?"

"Well, yes and no," Paulie answered sheepishly, keeping some distance from Iceburg's desk. "I'm not really asking for money."

"I'm afraid I don't really understand then."

"So, the collector, he's asked a favour from me. Or more from you, I guess."

"A favour?"

"His Grandmother's ill or something. Must be pretty bad, she's on a waiting list and he'd like her to move up that list," he scratched his neck nervously. "He thinks if you talk to the hospital, they'd do it. I'm really sorry for asking."

Iceburg's brow tensed and he cupped his chin in his hand. A light bristle of his beard over his fingers. "Hmm well, usually I wouldn't really do this sort of thing."

"I know, Mr Iceburg, I shouldn't have asked you at all."

"But I'll see what I can do. I assume they didn't give you any other option."

"Thank you so much sir, I really appreciate it." Paulie bowed his head.

"But, in exchange I need to ask a favour from you," Iceburg added.

Paulie glanced up. "Anything sir."

"Well, two favours then," he corrected. "One, please don't call me sir. Like I've always said, it's unnecessary."

He could never really understand Iceburg's distaste for the respect he got from them all. In fact, Iceburg's own humility on the matter only ever really served to make that same respect in the men grow all the stronger. But Paulie thought it best to try to honour the request, despite feeling that when it came down to it, their boss deserved at least as much as a few formalities and monikers like 'sir' whether he liked hearing them or not.

"Yes, of course."

"And secondly, Paulie," Iceburg said, with a shake of his head. "Please try to stop gambling."

"I, well, I'll try," he stammered. "And honestly sir, sorry, Mr Iceburg. This won't happen again. I swore to myself from the get go you'd never get caught up in this, but I didn't really have a choice this time."

"As your boss, I honestly don't care what you do with your wages, or what you get up to in your spare time," Iceburg frowned. "But as a friend Paulie, I find this a bit troubling."

Hearing Iceburg refer to him as a friend caught him off guard. "I know, some shit I've got myself into," he confessed, flustered. "I guess I've been letting it get out of hand lately."

"How about we drink to it? Would that help?"

"Alright, yeah. I could use a drink right about now."

Iceburg got up from his desk. He seemed to spend a moment working out a route through the clutter before moving to find the decanter he kept by his bookshelf.

"Hmm, seems like I'm out though. Well, how about we head out to Kiwi and Mozu's?"

"Aren't you pretty busy right now?" Paulie glanced around the room.

"Well, this can wait until later. Right now I think I could use a drink too."

Iceburg took Tyrannosaurus from his perch on his shoulder, and placed him away in his cage. He pulled a handful of pumpkin seeds from the top pocket of his shirt and offered them as a peace offering in exchange for putting him away for the night. Paulie couldn't help but wonder whether he kept loose snacks for the rodent in all of his pockets, and wasn't sure whether it was disrespectful that the thought revolted him a little.

"It's probably warm enough without a jacket tonight, right?" Iceburg said, heading for the door.

Paulie nodded. "Feels like it's going to be a bitch of a summer this year."

Crossing the room to follow Iceburg out, he nearly tripped over a stack of loose books.

Iceburg held the door for him. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's fine."

"Well, so a toast then?" Iceburg raised his glass as a prompt.

"Um, to giving up vices and… writing off debts and shady deals that never should have been made in the first place," Paulie improvised.

"Cheers." Iceburg tapped his glass against Paulie's.

Paulie took a sip as he eyed Iceburg knock his own back in one take.

He sat it down and looked Paulie square in the face. "You have to promise me that's the end of all this, alright?" he said sternly.

Paulie found it disconcerting. "Are you really that worried about me?"

"Well you know what happened. I'd rather not have any of us go through anything like that again."

"Hey come on, problems with loan sharks isn't anything compared to all that other shit that went down."

"Maybe. But you don't really know who has connections with whom sometimes. I just want you to be safe, that's all. And if you try your best to stay out of trouble, usually it'll leave you alone."

"Hmm, maybe. But it's not like you went looking for it, right?"

"Well, that was a little different. Anyway, enough about all that."

"Sure," Paulie replied, though truth be told he was dying to talk it all over some more.

Paulie still had residual thoughts that he longed to have the chance to get out in the open and clear the awkward air that hung about not quite fully resolved. They only ever touched briefly on everything that had happened and for the most part, Iceburg avoided talking about it all entirely.

Iceburg quickly moved on. "Another drink Paulie?" he asked, much brighter.

"No thanks. Don't you think you should slow down?"

"I'm fine," he dismissed stubbornly.

"Uh, suit yourself."

He watched as Iceburg made his way to the bar front, where one of the sisters poured him a shot of something lurid in colour that he quickly drank to the bottom with gusto. Paulie still wasn't entirely sure which lewd girl belonged to which name, but the one in the yellow bikini top poured Iceburg another while he chatted with the pair. He laughed and gestured to keep the alcohol coming.

He was never entirely sure how to react to Iceburg when he got like this. He could be unpredictably childish at times, and Paulie found it awkward to deal with.

He made the decision to be responsible and went to join him at the bar front. "Let's get you back home sir," he suggested discretely.

"Hmm well, yes ok. I've probably had enough," he slurred, and allowed Paulie to help lead him away when offered. "Sorry Kiwi, Mozu, looks like Paulie thinks it's past my curfew."

"Aww boo, but the night's just getting started!" Mozu protested, sticking out her tongue.

"Stay a bit longer and chat with us, Mr Iceburg" Kiwi chimed in. "We don't get to chat with real celebrities in our bar often."

"I'm no celebrity," Iceburg laughed dismissively.

"Just B-lists like our cute little Paulie here," she added with a smirk in Paulie's direction.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he grouched back. "Come on, Mr Iceburg, we're leaving."

"Well, goodnight ladies," Iceburg waved. "Thanks for the drinks."

"Goodnight Mr Iceburg!"

"Come visit us more often, won't you?"

"Well, I can't make any promises. I'm very busy."

"Bye Paulie," they called.

Paulie grunted back.

While a walk home from the bar usually helped sober up a man, Iceburg had been drinking in such quick succession that it was only by the end of the walk that the alcohol had really started to settle in. He wobbled on his feet and Paulie had to rush to his side to steady him.

"Help me up the stairs, will you Paulie?"

"Jesus sir, I've never seen you drunk like this."

Paulie fussed over him, guiding Iceburg to hold onto the handrails, and propping him against himself, walking them up in step.

"Sorry about this Paulie."

"I'd say it's alright, but shit, you really went to town, didn't you?"

"I guess I've probably been having a bit much lately," Iceburg disclosed. "Well, I'll give it up. So let's drink to that too."

"Forgive me sir, but that's a load of crap. No more. You're already completely wasted."

"I'm just having some fun. I wonder how long it's been…"

"What's this all about anyway? You're not still stressed out about all that?"

"If I tell you, you won't tell anyone, right?"

Obviously he wasn't about to go around spreading out Iceburg's secrets like wildfire, but he had the distinct feeling that Iceburg would never have admitted what he was about to sober.

"No," Paulie answered tentatively.

"Well, so I've been having a bit of trouble sleeping sometimes," Iceburg confessed. "It's probably a bit ridiculous, but I don't feel entirely safe at night lately."

Paulie gave a little sigh of relief. It was nothing he couldn't see why Iceburg couldn't have admitted without having to down as much booze as he had beforehand. "Right, well that's completely understandable. I mean they broke into your bedroom right? Anyone would find it hard to sleep or feel safe in their home after something like that. It's not ridiculous at all."

"So sometimes a few drinks helps."

"Again, understandable. But getting drunk every night's not really the best way to go about it. And you're still in recovery too, it's not exactly going to help with that either. Watch, the carpet ends just here, don't trip on it."

"Well, I know that much."

"Anyway sir, here you are."

They stood outside Iceburg's bedroom door and Paulie tentatively let him go, glad to see he seemed capable of holding himself up steady enough.

"Thank you Paulie."

"I should really head home. Will you be alright sir?"

"You could stay with me."

When Paulie flushed, it started from the tips of his ears and spread in two bold lines to meet in the centre of his face. "Uh, well, I... sir... don't you think that's... rushing into things a bit?"

Iceburg laughed, nearly tripping himself in the process. "Not like that."

Paulie shook his head, mortified at mistaking it for a proposition. "Oh, no. Yeah. Of course not."

"Just to make sure nothing happens," he clarified. "I'll feel safer if I know there's someone else around."

"Alright, I guess I can do that," Paulie answered. He found he couldn't meet him in the eye. "I'll sit outside the door if you'd like. But I can't promise I'll stay awake myself."

"That's fair enough." Iceburg pushed open his door.

"But promise me you'll call the hospital in the morning,"

"The hospital? But, I'm fine. Why?"

"You know, uh, that favour I asked you to do?"

"Oh…" Iceburg paused. "Yes, of course."

Paulie pulled up a chair by the door and sat down. "Well, goodnight sir. I'll be just out here, so you can rest easy tonight."

"Goodnight Paulie. Sorry again about this. Well, I really appreciate it. Hmm.. didn't I…?" Iceburg stopped in foggy thought and looked back at him. "Didn't I tell you not to call me sir earlier?"

"Yes, sorry, Mr Iceburg."

Paulie got up and closed over the door behind him, still hoping desperately for his face to cool down. It wasn't until he realised that Iceburg probably wouldn't remember any of it by morning that he finally let it go.

He found his eyes starting to close over of their own free will, and didn't put up a fight to resist. But his sleep was patchy. Sitting by his door brought back to mind everything from the night the Dock One foremen all sat outside his room together, and he slipped in and out of dreams to moments of sudden panic. It was no wonder Iceburg was having trouble sleeping there at night.