He held a small breath under his nose, as the once-ruthless pirate stepped up to the exterior part of the tavern.
A rickety sign hanging from the wooden door, G'Rache, proved to be a familiar one, going back to those young years, when he and his shipmates would sneak in to have an underage drink at the pub... back when his two sculpted arms would wrap themselves around a pretty face and flirt with a simple gesture as carrying a round of pints for his fellow men.
It wasn't that Silver dreaded what he had become, nor would he have traded an ounce to replace the adventures and dangers he had undertaken. All that he dreaded was that nobody in the old Verdonian tavern would be able to recognize him.
Carefully, going into what he presumed was the back door, Silver pushed himself into an old world with his mechanical hand, and braced the crustacean-smelling air around him.
He found his way into the steamy, rusty kitchen of the pub, where a couple of small platypus-creature cooks stopped, trembling at the pirate's overbearing figure.
It seemed that they grew even more stunned as Silver tipped his hat to them as a greeting.
"Don' mind me." He said. "I'm jus' takin'r short tour here..."
The platypuds looked at each other confusingly, wondering why such a bulky customer would want to enter through the backdoor. Silver just tossed a grin that meant no harm, eyeing over at the precious Sygnas eel frying on the stove, clearly noticing it was being overcooked. The man made his way out of the kitchen quickly, before he could spot any more culinary disappointments.
As the smelling of fresh fish, steaming water, and moldy plates faded out of the picture, the new scents of fresh Ginseng rum and beer seemed to overtake him quite humbly... as he pushed through the double-hinged kitchen door and shaded his eyes under the tri-cornered hat of his.
The entire place was lighted dimly by glass lamp, soft enough to edge into dark corners, yet powerful enough to locate the unfriendly scratches on the walls and cracking corners of windowsills. Despite Silver's mysterious presence, nobody in the tavern seemed to care that this pirate had just entered into his old life.
They customers were all different-looking, physically, and yet they all seemed to love the art of chatter with the spark of rum running through their veins. Silver could see it clearly in their pink faces and laughter. He noticed quite a few clusters of people gathered around for the late evening, singing heartily off tune to the rhythm of drumming tables, clamping their rum pints at the end of a long chorus.
It was a life he had seemed to leave behind a long time ago, and the Cyborg did not exactly know how to fall back into it again. Despite his exceptionally large mass, the pirate felt somewhat uneasy and foreign to the scene, such as the fruit flies hovering around the lamps.
Surprisingly... even before he had removed his tri-cornered hat to rub his tired scalp... a bald gaunt-looking man in a green trenchcoat set down his pint of beef squarely on the table, raising an eyebrow at the new customer in the G'Rache tavern
"LONG JOHN!?"
Another large, gruff-looking man with the round, scruffy white beard managed to put down his drink sloppily and squint his good eye over to the tavern entrance. Silver, still leaning skeptically at the door, took his Cyborg optic eye and narrowed it to the bellowing old seafarer across the tavern's dimness... and realized it was indeed a familiar face.
The pirate raised his mechanical arm into an overwhelming hello, but groaned on the inside. It was the feeling anyone would have gotten when seeing their old boss.
"Chiron, ser!" Silver said, hoping that his voice had not changed much with the passing years.
"Where the BLOODY HELL-ya BEEN?"
The old man's yellow teeth shone alongside the glimmering lamplight, and Chiron did not care how far his bellowing voice took him through the tavern. With all the laughter and various conversations happening, Silver managed to get himself through the crowd, talking back to Chiron as he did so.
"Bahh, long story, ah'll tell yeh. Had teh take care o'some family business..."
Chiron and the man in the trenchcoat stared at Silver skeptically – seeing the man's missing arm and leg, and the material he'd replaced them with – and the smell of beer passed over them while their old friend finally sat down on a stool.
Silver placed his fleshed hand on his back to rub off an ache, and quickly noticed the looks of amazement in front of him. He glanced at his mechanical arm, and closed his Cyborg eye to brainstorm a quick explanation to it all. For some reason, all his mind could process was the thirst for Ginseng rum.
"Family business, eh?" The thin man let his dark green eyes glimmer with inner laughter, wondering about the irony that Silver was holding on them with his unusually brief storytelling.
"Aye, Jenkins...it took me'hr while, but... it is done." Letting himself sit comfortably on the stool, and listening to the random chatter around him, the man raised his mechanical arm for bar service.
"Silver, tha's the most ridiculous story ah've ever heard outta yer mouth." Chiron gulped the remaining beer in his pint and slammed it down for more efficient service. His small, short-sighted eyes couldn't help but examine that menacing-looking arm that was so intricately designed onto the former pirate. "Where in the blast-ended galaxy did ye leave yer arm?"
With his mild attempt at humor, Chiron awaited an explanation, but instead Jenkins started talking about his own thoughts about the Cyborg's authentic body parts, brushing the fuzz on his small beard.
"...ah reckon that looks like handywork of the Norsian mechanists, eh? Over at the Coral Galaxy?"
"Yer close, Jenkins." Silver commented, chuckling to himself as the incoming waitress suddenly walked with a careful pace after glancing his mechanical arm. "Ah was lucky enough ter run into a Norsian near the Asygnas Cross... a good man... he gave me this here eye fer half the price."
Immediately, the pirate seemed to be letting his deformity melt into the crowd's chatter, not worrying so much about the looks people gave at the metallic makings of his arm. As he continued to insert more detail into his story of Norsian Mechanist for his comrades' intriguing ears, he gathered his inner thoughts briefly into the lovely, yet terrified look of the waitress approaching the table.
She was fairly tall, a woman perhaps lingering through her late thirties... along with a bosom that suited the age well. Her radiant hazel eyes were paralyzing to Silver, even more as they hid themselves from the very dim light in the tavern. With one of her maroon-colored puff sleeves dangling at the shoulder (most likely out of stress, rather than other promiscuous reasons), Silver did not know whether to be mesmerized or frightened by the look of such honest, imperfect beauty.
As she finally made it to the table, Silver felt that his skills at flim-flammery had not abandoned him, and yet he did not think he could continue with the story he was entertaining to his old friends to come up with the best compliment to the lady. As his fleshed arm rummaged again into his coat pocket as a comforting habit, he suddenly remembered the amethyst encapsuled.
His Cyborg eye opened up in a friendly, unharmful way to the woman as she picked up Chiron's empty beer jug with a moment's glance at Silver. Her thick, long brown hair hung itself loosely off the shoulders, and Silver forced himself to not look passed the woman's face with his sincerity.
Jenkins, on the other hand, exquisitely spoke his mind with a cat-calling whistle.
The woman instantly lost her discomforting nature from the Cyborg, and spoke her mind to Jenkins as well, with a very loud grunting noise to begin.
"Blimey, 'as that rum gone over yer head, Jenkins? Ah've had it with yer whistlin' tonight. Ah'm no guard dog, ye hear?"
Jenkins laughed, and with that careful smile and the woman's rolling eyes, Silver was glad that the woman did not feel threatened by an incoming tease. From what he remembered, Jenkins was known for much worse flim-flammery in these taverns... a whistle was more of a compliment.
"Wha' can I get ye now, Chiron?" The lady's soft, yet commanding voice mesmerized Silver as she looked over to his boss. "A spiced Purp rum?"
"Aye, ye know me better than meh own stomach, Glory..." Chiron smiled in ridicule, to the woman's liquor suggestion, knowing he was far too old to be messing with those kinds of flirtatious thoughts.
"Delightful." The lovely woman named Glory nodded, writing the order in her mind, and then turned over to Silver flatly. It was as if his mechanical arm had never even existed now.
She didn't ask him anything, except she just stood there... her eyes all of a sudden becoming more brilliant with the light sneaking into them. Silver had no idea why she was standing there before him for what seemed forever... and he slightly hoped she would not change her mind.
And then, the pirate's Cyborg eye raised itself in stupidity; the man had indeed raised his mechanical arm to be served, after all.
"Ah, ehm...meh thousand apologies..." Silver could feel the metallic side of his temple warm up with embarrassment. "...Ah seemed ter have forgotten what was good here," came the pirate's cleverly dull excuse.
Glory blinked to the man's yellow Cyborg eye and smiled with disbelief. "Well... have ye tried the spiced Purp rum before? I's a local recipe... fairly strong, bu' it'll clear yer senses quickly."
John Silver could not help but smile from the woman's tiny brown freckles that danced below her eyes as she spoke so closely to him.
"Tha' sounds promisin', lass. Ah'll take one o'those." Silver placed his fleshed fist onto the table, showing his enthusiasm for the drink. As Glory stood there in slight fright and amusement, Silver realized how his fist was carrying the precious little amethyst from his pocket.
Silver's mind seemed to spark together from every direction, leading the man to believe that no other place would a piece of treasure suit itself more than around the neck of a very lovely woman. The pirate had chosen the perfect moment to give the last bit of his old life to a random act of boldness to a lady who offered him the best drink of the house.
As Glory dismissed herself from the table, nodding at Chiron and Jenkins, she turned back to walk into the chatter of the dim tavern, but Silver shouted a "wait, lass! A'nother small thing!"
The woman quickly glanced back at the boisterous Cyborg who requested her service again, and she shouted back, "what? What is it?"
Silver wondered if this request would sound too stupid and spontaneous, but for the sake of the promise he had made with the amethyst... he was going to make a necklace at all cost.
"D'yeh have any STRING?"