Chapter 3: The Learning Curve

Sumary: With Reaver's payment to the Shadow Court taken care of, the trio return to the not-so-humble seaside refuge, only to find they aren't alone. And Reaver makes a most amusing discovery about Sparrow's dear balverine.

"As much as I hate to say it-" Sparrow paused to let loose a stunning display of pyrotechnics into the face of a rather large hollowman. "You were right. I'm feeling loads better!"

Reaver grinned smugly, eyes following the gypsy's body as it wove easily around the decaying monsters. He himself had found a rather nice spot atop an old column to watch the festivities, being unarmed and all. And there were a rather lot of them this go. He had to wonder just where all those bodies were coming from. Even he didn't kill that many people(out here).

Sergeant Smiley seemed to be enjoying himself as well, pouncing onto his victims in an almost playful manner.

"Speaking of me, while we were down conversing with my most charming friends, I could have sworn I heard someone mention something about wrinkles. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that now, would you mon petit saint?"

"What? Sorry, didn't catch that."

Reaver, however, knew he had, and thus continued onwards with the 'conversation'. "It was the most peculiar thing, as if a specter drug itself from the afterlife just to insult me. Unless there was someone else down there with us…But then you would have noticed us being followed, the great hero you are."

Sparrow re-murdered the last of the hollow men, then turned to look up at the voyeur. "I have no idea what you're talking about Reaver. I think you might be hearing things. You feeling all right? Maybe you caught some weird disease in Samarkand."

"Or maybe I've garnered the power to commune with the afterlife hm? Perhaps one could even go so far as to insinuate that I can see dead people! In fact, I do believe I see one now…"

Sparrow stared blankly up at him, and Reaver made a 'turn around' gesture with his index finger. Sparrow did so halfheartedly, only to start violently at the sight of a decaying mouth flying towards his face.

Reaver's laughter echoed unevenly around them as Sparrow hacked the wayward zombie into bite-sized pieces. "Such a pity, I must say. You'd make a rather splendid ghoul." As he spoke he removed himself from his perch, brushing non-existent dirt from his trousers.

Sparrow patted him somewhat forcefully on the shoulder. "Good to know. S'pose that means you'd make an even better one eh? Well don't worry, I'll make sure you're the first person I come after." With a mischievous smirk, Sparrow sauntered off to pull Smiles out of the tomb he was currently desecrating.

Reaver, ever paranoid, looked down at his shoulder, only to cringe at the sight of dead people goo. Dead people goo with a sprinkling of what was either skin, or maggots. Either way, it was extremely disgusting, and certainly not something that belonged on his clothing.

"Come on Reaver! I want to get out of here before Smiles decides he needs to mark every bloody tomb in the graveyard." Sparrow yanked the balverine by the collar as he spoke, not wishing to rescue his pet from Twinblade's wrath.

Reaver had, in fact, been making his way to the gypsy even as he spoke. Just as Sparrow turned to see if he was being followed, Reaver caught him, grabbing a fistful of the hero's shirt. Before Sparrow could figure out how to react, Reaver had unceremoniously yanked the man's shirt up, using it to wipe the grime from his shoulder.

"It seems you've finally been of some use to me. Bravo."

Reaver released the(now dirty and somewhat stretched) shirt with a little flourish, swiping at a stray lock of the man's hair in the process. The cloth hadn't completely rid him of the questionable fluids, but it was better than nothing, he supposed. Fortunately he had another shirt exactly like the one he was wearing, so the drawbacks of 'cleansing it with fire' were insignificant.

He didn't bother to ask the hero if he were coming or not, knowing he'd be followed either way. They were going to the same place after all.

Sparrow huffed indignantly. "Finally useful…" He paused in his mumbling to get a better grip on the massive beast's collar. "Let's go boy, his royal highness is leaving without us."

xx

By the time they reached the mansion, the sun itself had fallen beneath the horizon, leaving in it's wake a plethora of brilliant hues. It made Reaver think of fire, which reminded him of the sorry state of his shirt(which had momentarily slipped his mind thanks to an incident involving the balverine, a cat, and one now very broken pie stand.) Not even bothering to go further into the house than the foyer, Reaver stripped off the (in his mind) ruined garment.

"Damn it Sergeant, that's the third thing you've broken this week alone! The hell am I going to do with you? You keep this up and you're gonna get our asses kicked out of here as we-what the hell."

Reaver glanced over his shoulder to see Sparrow standing there like an idiot, staring at him with a surprisingly deadpan look to match his tone. Either he wasn't a fan of having a half-naked Reaver sprung on him, or he was but didn't want to show it. "Can I help you?" He cocked a hip and raised an eyebrow suggestively to match his sly tone.

Sparrow blinked at him for a second, before slowly shaking his head. "Do I want to know why you're getting undressed in the middle of this giant bleeding hall?"

"First off, my dear boy, it's called a foyer. Secondly," He walked casually over towards the fireplace. "It's my home, therefore I can strip wherever I see fit. And lastly," He tossed the doomed piece of fabric atop the logs. "I can't go around with dead men's bodily fluids on my clothing, it's unsanitary." He lit the shirt nonchalantly on fire, then stood to watch it be consumed.

"Right. Course. Makes perfect sense. I'm going to bed now." Sparrow turned to the stairs, patting Smiles absently on the head as he passed.

"Hey cap'n, we got all yer-oh. Sorry. Didn' mean tah interrupt." Jess, the one-eyed first mate, stopped his descent of the stairs as he saw the two men.

Sparrow looked confusedly at the man, then at Reaver. His cheeks colored as he realized what was being implied. "Wha-no! Your not-this isn't-what the hell are you doing in my house?"

"Yer house?" The first mate looked to Reaver. "What's he on about?"

Reaver waved a hand absently. "Oh some nonsense about his legally owning my manor." Reaver looked thoughtfully between the two confused men. The fact that at least one of his crew members was present was starting to sink in, and with it the prospect of regaining what was his. "Jess dear, you wouldn't happen to be armed would you?"

The man's single eye narrowed, hand automatically moving to his hip where his gun was. "Course boss, why?"

"Oh, no reason, just that I'm currently being held hostage in my own home."

"Really now."

"Oh my, yes. If you would be a dear and take care of this little problem for me?"

Sparrow's hand moved to his own pistol as the reality that he was about to be shot took root in his skull. "Whoa whoa whoa. I'm not holding you bloody hostage, Reaver!"

The thief lord tapped a finger on his chin in mock thought. "Well now, you and your charming pet ambushed me as I was walking into my home, brutalized me, and took my gun. Sound about right?"

Sparrow gaped at him. "I told you, I bloody bought the place! And if I hadn't taken your gun, you would have shot us!"

"An' the brutalizin'?" Jess was eyeing Sparrow, wary of taking on someone who could outmatch his boss.

Sparrow looked sheepish. "Well, Smiles might have been a bit…rough, but he was just watchin' the house like I told him to. And he didn't actually hurt you. I mean, you still got your head attached to your shoulders right?"

Reaver sighed in that practiced way of his. "Yes, but it was still highly unpleasant." He motioned for Jess to do as he'd been told.

The blonde looked far from pleased, but drew his gun none the less.

Sparrow left his pistol in it's holster, though one hand still hovered over it, other coming up as if to halt the attack. What happened next was a whirl of sound and destruction as Jess fired, Sparrow countering it with magic. The force of the spell not only deflected the bullet, but tore through the banister and everything else in the way.

Jess was thrown backwards and pummeled with pieces of wood, stunning him long enough for Sparrow to draw his gun and aim it. By the time the pirate had managed to figure out which way was up and climb ungracefully to his feet, he'd already lost. He made to bring his pistol back to face Sparrow, only to have the wall next to his ear explode as a bullet lodged itself snugly into the wood. "Fuck!"

"Look, I really don't want to have to shoot you. It's bad enough I just destroyed half the bloody house, I don't feel like cleaning up more blood as well."

Jess eyed the gun currently targeted at his forehead, weighing his options. If he surrendered, Reaver would shoot him. If he did as he was bid and tried to attack again, he'd get shot. Either way he was going to end up in a lot of pain. Normally it'd be a question of who he feared more, but at this point, it was hard to say. The guy before him had just thrown destruction in his face with a flick of his wrist, but Reaver, well…

A low growl and a gust of hot air danced around his neck. Jess stiffened, then turned his head just enough to see the newest variable in his problem. His eyes went huge as he realized that the large white thing behind him was a balverine. "Uh, Cap'n?"

Reaver, having already realized his plan had failed(as he knew it would, blast it all), eyed his first mate boredly. "Hm?"

"I, uh, I think I'm…bested." He tried to smile reassuringly at the balverine. "Tha's a good doggy, yea?" Smiles huffed and growled some more.

"You should leave before Smiles decides he wants a second dinner."

Reaver scoffed. "Why ever would you let him leave? He tried to kill you, shoot him dear boy!"

"Shut up Reaver."

The pirate lord sighed. So much for getting the gypsy to punish his first mate for failing him. "Right, of course. I keep forgetting you refuse to kill anyone. Although I must say, I assumed you didn't see pirates as being people."

"I don't. I just don't feel like cleaning his face off the wall."

"That, love, is why one employs maids." He eyed the damage to the foyer, wondering how long it was going to take the hero to clean up the mess he'd made. He certainly wasn't going to help.

"No, that's why you employ maids."

Reaver shrugged, although he doubted Sparrow saw it. "Eh, well yes, among other things."

Sparrow ignored him, making a vague gesture with his hand. Although it wasn't so vague that Smiles didn't understand, apparently, as the balverine began jostling Jess down the stairs.

Reaver watched as his first mate was 'escorted' to the door, a sudden thought accuring to him. "You brought my things?"

Jess nodded. "Y-yea. Put 'em away like yeh said."

"And the harbor?"

"Tha' too. We did everythin' like yeh asked Cap'n."

Reaver nodded. "Good. Oh and Jess?" He waited until the man stood on the other side of the door, looking fearfully at him with his only good eye. "Ta."

Sparrow shut the door in the pirate's face, then turned to survey the damage.

"Well as much fun as this has been, I'm off to bed. Have fun with your cleaning. Honestly, no maids…" Reaver turned to the opposite staircase. He knew he had at least one gun among the things he'd 'acquired' in Samarkand, now all he had to do was remember where exactly he'd stuck it. He figured he'd have a decent window in which to work while the gypsy cleaned up the destruction, and he planned on utilizing it, damn it.

"Not so fast, pirate."

A furry wall appeared in front of him as Sparrow spoke, quite nicely cutting off his escape. "Oh? Come now, you don't expect moi to clean this mess of yours do you?" He glanced casually back at the gypsy as if the threat of being mauled didn't phase him in the slightest.

"You clean? I'm not delusional, Reaver." He ignored the pirates skeptical look. "Which is why your going to stay here and keep Smiley company while I go find all the firearms your friend just brought. What, you really think I wouldn't have caught that?"

Reaver covered his surprise smoothly with a mask of innocence. "Why Sparrow, how could you even think such a thing of me?"

Sparrow laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Keep an eye on him Sergeant."

And so Reaver was stuck, shirtless, in a half-destroyed foyer with a balverine while Sparrow went through each room in the house to confiscate anything fun. "You could have at least started with the study, you know! I could use a drink, not to mention it's a bit drafty out here." He yelled up to the gypsy as he passed from one side of the house to the other. "Deal with it!" Was the response he received as Sparrow once again disappeared to tear apart his things.

Reaver shifted, the stair he was currently sitting on not the most comfortable thing for reclining. He rested his back against the wall, crossing his arms as he eyed his furry babysitter. Sergeant Smiles was, for whatever reason, perched on the railing of the banister, gazing down at him in that eerie way balverines had. How he managed such a feet on the slanted surface wasn't as much of a mystery as Reaver wanted it to be, as he could see the claw marks from where he sat. In fact, he'd seen such marks in numerous places, making him wonder where the beast had been perched when they'd first 'met'. Boredom made him ask, although whether he was understood was another matter.

Sergeant Smiles cocked his head, then leapt upwards, much to Reaver's surprise. The light creak of wood drew his eyes upward to see Smiles perched on the banister that stretched between the two staircases. He was dead center, exactly across from the door in fact.

"How peculiar. Can you actually understand me?"

The balverine grunted, then leapt easily back to his earlier position. Reaver eyed him warily, not entirely sure if the grunt had been an affirmative, or if the beast was simply entertaining itself. He'd have to test this further.

"Hm, I'm not quite sure I believe you. You are a balverine after all, so my suspicions are, understandable. How about a little, ah, test hm?" He paused, watching Smiles intently in the hopes of reading him. As far as he could tell, the balverine was, at the very least, listening to him, and since there was no one else around who could mistakethis for madness on his part, Reaver continued. "I'll make it easy, you see that plant over there on the table? That ugly little thing in the blue pot? Hm, do you know what blue is? I'm not in fact aware if balverines can see colors or not…Ah, anyway, why don't you, oh I don't know, remove it from it's holdings and place it on that banister directly in front of the door?"

Smiles had seemed to be following him well enough, but Reaver still had his reservations. He was a balverine after all.

Slinking easily over to the aforementioned herb(which looked like something he'd actually seen in Samarkand, now that he thought about it), Smiles picked it up, turned it over a few times, then glanced at Reaver. The pirate waited, and not a moment later, the balverine was perched on the second floor railing, trying to balance the pot on the banister between his legs.

Needless to say, Reaver was, well, floored. Granted, he'd meant for plant and pot to be removed of one another, but one couldn't be too picky.

Smiles came to rest on his perch across from Reaver, and if the pirate didn't know any better, he would have said the beast had quite a smug grin on his face.

"Well well well, aren't you the clever little beastie. Lets see if we can't make this harder, shall we?"

xx

Sparrow sighed. It'd taken a hell of a lot longer than he would have liked to ensure he didn't wake up with a bullet in the head, but Reaver had 'acquired' an awful lot of shit. Statues, tapestries, rugs, boxes of odds and ends, you name it, he had it. Not all of it was foreign either, which meant there was at least one new ship without a captain somewhere. Or worse. Surprisingly enough, there hadn't been as many weapons as he had expected, but then again, Reaver did so love his Dragonstomper. Er, Dragonstompers. He did have five of the damn things after all(all of which had been hidden away for obvious reasons), as well as a few others that had been hung up like trophies.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, deciding that hiding the weapons could wait until the morning. When the pirate was asleep, and thus unable to 'accidentally' see where his precious firearms had been 'stored for safekeeping'.

As he got closer to the landing overlooking the foyer, the sound of the aforementioned pirate's voice caught his attention. He couldn't make out what was being said, but just the fact that Reaver was speaking with someone brought his guard up. His step quickened, bringing him to the main stairway in no time.

What he saw as he caught sight of the floor below would forever be ingrained in his head.

xx

"No no no, that's the Gin, you see? Right there? On the label? Yes, words, do you remember them? I mean really, illiteracy aside this isn't that hard. Oh don't look at me like that, if you weren't color blind we could have been past this agesago." Reaver motioned for the balverine to try again, setting the bottle of gin next to it's fellows in failed attempts. At this point, they'd go through the liquor cabinet in all it's entirety before the beast got it right. As it was, the floor surrounding the stairs Reaver was(still) sitting on hosted a marvelous array of bottles, none of which held the particular substance he wanted.

"What are you doing?"

Reaver drug his gaze away from the colorful display at his feet to look boredly up at the gypsy. "Hm? Oh this?" He gestured towards the spirits. "Why nothing, really, just a little exercise in learning."

He watched Sparrow's mouth open, a witty response surely, but something of far more importance caught his attention. Sergeant Smiley stopped before him, offering the bottle currently being strangled in his harry grip. Sadly, this too was not the requested item, and thus found itself on the floor with more than half of it's cabinet companions.

The sound of porcelain and dirt crashing to the floor drew the gaze of both man and monster. The potted plant that Reaver had, admittedly, forgotten about, was now scattered about the floor with the rest of Sparrows mess. Fitting, since he was apparently the one whom had knocked it over.

"Why was that plant up here? Fuck…" The gypsy surveyed the floor below him wearily. It looked downright dreadful, and he was obviously not looking forward to the task before him.

"Did you know, my dear boy, that that beast of yours has, in fact, retained a marginally functional knowledge of the human language? Illiteracy aside, of course…" Reaver toyed with one of the bottles nearest him, watching the hero through his bangs. Smiles had again gone to try his luck at bottle roulette.

"Well, yea, I guessed as much since he does tend to listen to me…But what the hell are you two doing?"Sparrow was now coming down the stairs, prompting Reaver to stretch languidly across them.

"Whiling away my time banished to the foyer, what else?"

Sparrow stopped on the step above Reaver, eyeing the pirate, the bottles, and the general disarray of the room at large. "So 'whiling away the time' includes turning all the pictures upside down as well?"

Reaver cast a glance at the reversed paintings. "As a matter of fact it does, oddly enough."

Sparrow made an annoyed sort of noise, before leaping gracefully over the banister. Apparently he didn't want to attempt jumping over the Thief Prince. Smart of him, really, as Reaver had been planning on doing something decidedly nasty should he have tried.

"And I assume you have no plans what so ever to 'un-while' your time?" He made a vague gesture, more at the bottles then anything, as he walked off towards the study.

"Why of course not! It's your house after all." Reaver shot the gypsy a smug grin, before slowly pulling himself to his feet and stretching. Staircases really were uncomfortable things to recline on.

Sparrow eyed him from the doorway, watching as he picked his way through the multicolored sea of bottles. "Right, 'course, how silly of me to even think such a thing."

Reaver flashed him a chesire grin. "Sarcasm hardly suits you, Sparrow dear."

"Gee thanks Theresa, I'll keep that in mind." Sparrow disappeared into the study, Reaver right behind him. It was the last place he had to check(aside from the Rear Passage, which he'd decided he would just block for the time being) before he could go to bed. He would deal with the whole cleaning thing in the morning.

Reaver placed himself in his favorite chair, glad for the warmth filling up the room now that the door had been shut. He hadn't been lying about the draft in the foyer. Without a shirt it was bloody chilly.

Smiles was still rooting around in the liquor cabinet, apparently determined to finally get it right. Not that there were a lot of choices left but still, it was the principle of the thing. With what could have been a sound of triumph, the balverine removed it's limbs from the ornate furnishing.

Reaver watched him lope easily over, proffering his latest choice with a cock of his head. The pirate took it boredly, tilting the label towards the firelight to better see what it was, exactly. And wouldn't you know, it was the right damn bottle. "Well, it seems the, twenty third? Twenty fourth? Yes, twenty fourth. The twenty fourth time's the charm ey? Not that there were many left to choose from in that particular cabinet, but, well you know, small victories." He gestured for the balverine to fetch him a glass, to which Smiles complied. Picking off the stray hair or two, Reaver at long last poured himself a drink.

"Just because you've realized he's not a mindless beast doesn't mean you can use him as your own personal servant."

Reaver glanced at the gypsy over the rim of the glass. "Don't you have contraband items to be searching for? Because as much as I love sitting around shirtless after spending the day wandering Wraithmarsh, I really would rather go to bed, if it's all the same to you." He kept his tone light, but gave the gypsy a hard, pointed look.

"I'm serious Reaver."

"As am I. Now, if you're done searching my quarters, I think it's high time I retire for the evening." To punctuate his point Reaver stood and sauntered to the door. He made a point to bring both his glass, and the bottle of spirits.

Sparrow scowled at the retreating back. "Reaver." He waited until the pirate(surprisingly enough) paused at the door before issuing his warning. "If more of your friends just happen to show up, I will kill them."

Reaver raised a brow at the seriousness of the tone, before slipping on his usual smirk. "If you must. Although I'll have you know, they aren't actually my friends. I believe the term minions would suit them quite nicely, in fact." He gazed thoughtfully at nothing for a moment before turning back towards the foyer, mumbling various alternatives to see which, if any, took his fancy. As an after thought he waved languidly, offering up a "Ta!" before disappearing from sight.

Sparrow exhaled loudly, before quietly instructing Smiles to watch Reaver for the rest of the night. He may have searched the house over, but that didn't mean he was ready to trust the pirate to his own devices.

Oh Reaver, as much as I admire your enthusiasm, I highly doubt a balverine would make a good servant. Colorblind, illiterate, and lacking in human genitalia? Er, well, certain, ah, discoveries in the 'pleasure chamber' may make my point moot...but I'm not sure if I want to go there. In fact, let's pretend this conversation never happened.

next up: a bit of party crashing. Granted, one does technically need a 'party' to crash, but the phrase fits well enough I suppose. After all, it is, as Reaver would say, semantics.

Until then loves, ta! (and happy booze, ball, and turkey day(as the men-folk would say) to all that celebrate it. And those who don't. I'll force my holiday wishes on everyone, EVERYONE.)

deadpan riot