*12/19/12:

Chapter 7 has been edited.

~Swaben

Chapter 7:

An Adjustment

He scarfed down the assorted breakfast food that the engineer begrudgingly offered him like an absolute savage, and he felt his own emaciation through his stomach. The result left a mess of crumbs on the plate and on himself that would make someone think twice about his finer tastes. This was a component of being a pirate—eat everything, eat it messily, and eat it quickly. Eating it loudly was optional.

"Water," he hissed imperiously through a mouth stuffed with an entire piece of toast.

He didn't like devouring things sloppily, especially in front of others; he considered himself a man of high class far above the rabble of the common pirate. But the irresistible sights and smells of the food before him after enduring days of scanty meals at sea made him buckle over and become an animal, and he could see the disgusted amusement that the woman wore as he did so. After all, he nearly embarrassingly choked on that damned piece of toast, and heavens forbid if he actually had to stumble around like an idiot trying to relieve himself of that humiliation.

The first day was something of an unbelievable transition—something that struck Kuro fast, and hard, and unexpectedly: the metamorphosis, in one morning, from being a pirate captain with grizzly aspirations and a burning lust for treasures and the blood of those he robbed it from, to feigning himself as an ordinary Milltown citizen, and simultaneously becoming the coworker and employee of a bullheadedly adamant inventor with less than stellar experience in combat. It wasn't foreign for him to wear another persona. He had plenty, his previous being the mild-mannered and uppity butler, Klahadore, of that grand estate in Syrup Village, with its winding staircases, its magnificent library, its gold-plated pillars and luxurious baths, its spotless, glossy tiled floors, and one breathtakingly huge chandelier that you could see hundreds of your own tiny reflections in… Yes, such frivolities were what a man could die for—and he would always make sure that the blood be cleaned up promptly.

Many hours of that first day were spent lying across a velvety black couch, sleeping, or caught between the limbo of being asleep and awake. He opened his eyes occasionally to snoop into the inventor's business and extract information from her movements and the way she talked to whomever on that snail phone. Most of the instances had her waving her left hand around in a frustrated gesture, attempting fruitlessly to explain the mechanisms and machinations of her improvements to her client. Sometimes they would come knocking at her door, then she would slip into her mysterious bedroom and pull out something handy to give them, in exchange for a modest amount of Beri. This was usually followed by her returning to her desk, and her head making a resounding thud on its mahogany surface, either out of resignation or repeated disappointment. He quickly realized that she was a device fixer who worked from home, and she got requests ranging from the mundane to the ridiculous.

He also caught bits of a telephone conversation.

Something about a new bar opening.

Something having to do with Nelle's brother. Nelle's brother speaking, Nelle's brother complaining, Nelle's brother laughing with a hyena-ish laugh that was probably contagious to most people, but not to Kuro. The speaker's sounds were friendly, intense, and high-energy, highly contrast to his sister's subdued legato.

Then the droning voice of the inventor mixing with the bold yet filtered voice of her sibling from the other line nodded him off once more.

It was evening when he woke up again. Vibrant oranges and pinks streaked the sky outside, but were mostly masked by the velvety strokes of mauve and grey formed by the clouds and the descending night. He rose and adjusted his collar. At the mention of going to this new bar to appease this brother of hers, the inventor promised better food, and booze—but she explicitly stated that he had to pay for his poison.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Smoothing a few fingers through his gel-less hair, Kuro frowned lightly at how some strands decided to spring out and not stay where they were supposed to. The slick verdant luster that was normally present was gone, and he was unsure if he could find his pomade in a place like Milltown.

Was there anything about regular people that didn't bother him? Certainly. They were entertaining. They were caring. They looked out for their own. They fell in love. They actually cried at things. They could be honest to the very core. Was he one of those people? He was doubtful. Such a thought could have made him sad, but he chose to brush it off like the dust on his shirt.

"Are you feeling alright enough?," asked Nelle while fiddling with a cardigan.

"Fine enough to start people watching."

Milltown was a calming sight in the evening. There were lanes of tall, blue lamp-posts lining the streets, with their round orbs of yellowish light illuminating the cobblestone roads. After a short walk past scattered homes with square windows, they had come to a main strip where there were a few small, homey restaurants and diners mixed with family-owned shops and trades. It was a compact town that contributed equally to locals and to those who came and went at the port. Kuro could turn and see the hint of the sea that bordered the wharf, and the silhouettes of the various boats that were docked. He had to squint to really figure out if any of them belonged to pirates, but such observations were for the following days.

It was strange to treat himself as a citizen here. He would normally be sitting in his ship, reading, and waiting for his gaggle of idiots to return with conned money and precious goods, or slipping through alleys to threaten the lowly city thugs out of their money, lest they pay with their life. He vaguely remembered the tackle shop from years ago, but he found himself looking hard for a gentleman's store. His clothes were wrinkled and he could still pick up a briny smell on them.

As he walked down the sidewalk and fingered the very few amount of coins that he had in his pocket from searching that crew member in the wreck, he got some sort of idea about Milltown's populace. It was night time, so he assumed the more mild-mannered and elderly were cozied away at home. He passed some couples happily strolling along, some straggling merchants and folks from the port tending to their work spaces, and well-to-do kids that were keeping to themselves. And, if he looked carefully, he saw that there were some interestingly discreet loners skulking about.

The new bar had an attractive neon sign flickering for all to see, its various loops and swirls forming Lucian's. A bright-haired man of average stature and toned build briskly greeted the inventor and he talked quickly to her, making fast congratulations about her new-found coworker. He spoke excitedly about how her bounty hunting plan was actually in fruition, and shot curious glances at Kuro unashamedly.

"Hi. I'm Neil—her brother. 'Pleasure to meet you, sir," the young man briskly held out his blocky hand, attached to a thinner wrist, to shake.

"As with you," Kuro replied, gripping his hand tightly and forcefully. This Neil fellow had a charismatic, angular face, with short, bright yellowish hair in a prickly, wispy cut most resembling that of a fitness trainer's.

"Your name?"

"Kurt."

"Your kingdom? Er, you know what I mean."

"What?" He looked at him perplexedly.

"Last name?"

"Kurt Pierce."

"Kurt of Pierce, very nice," he jostled his arm with a playful expression. "Neil of Nerz here, try to wrap your tongue around that one. What's your favorite drink?"

"Sake. Preferably aged."

"Oh. I've never been a fan. Brandy's quite dandy, don't you think?"

"I suppose."

"I normally prefer to party and ask questions later, but Nelle's told me some things about you."

The ball in Kuro's throat hardened. What things? Had she really ratted him out so soon?

"Really? Care to tell?"

"Yeah! I… Heard that you're quite the experienced fighter. Perfect for the sort of slot Nelle was looking for."

"Yes, that's true," Kuro rubbed his fingernails together.

"I'm very sorry about what happened to you this morning. News got out that the Black Cats got in a few merchant ship-raids last night and then were just blasted by the Marines this morning. I guess that's an odd form of revenge, right?"

"Oh, yes. It was awful," the former Black Captain felt his spine shiver in distaste at the irony, and his eyes softened convincingly as he prepared an elaborate, heart-wrenching lie. "Terrible, I… I lost many of my friends. I lost all of my money. Lowly, filthy bastards. They're an absolutely despicable bunch, those damned pirates. I hope you don't mind, but I'd rather not talk any further about this."

"That's fine. It was awfully rude of me to bring it up so suddenly. So—I swear, I can redeem myself," Neil's blue eyes searched around for words. "You can have some drinks on me, alright?" He began to rummage through his pocket.

"No, no, I'm fine," Kuro waved his hand.

"'You sure?" The young man looked surprised, as if a gentleman rejecting the need to party and forget on such a nice evening was a crime.

"Yes. I don't want anything."

"Suit yourself. 'Nice to meetcha." He bid the conversation adieu and walked ahead of him, snaking his way to the entrance of the bar.

It didn't take long for them to get seated. The menu had typical choices common to places serving each and every sort of alcohol under the sun, but his appetite had failed him. Kuro submitted to ordering a simple glass of water, and craned his neck to observe the civilians and travelers streaming in and out. The shadier characters were keeping to their own, with slippery movements and fluid gestures.

Another young man joined them at the table, and he seemed somewhat out of breath.

"Sorry I'm late," the slightly bulky, rusty-haired stranger puffed quickly. "I'm here."

"Glad you could make it." Neil passed him a glass.

"I was working overtime at the Shack. There's always a demand for food around here."

"This is Andy."

"Andrew Harlow," the brunet corrected after flagging down a waitress and ordering a dish.

"Call him Andy."

Minutes passed as they waited to quench their thirst. It was only a matter of time before someone attempted to amuse themselves.

"Andy."

"What?"

"There's a pretty girl."

"Okay?"

"There's another one," Neil pointed.

"I'm eating," the young, husky cook replied curtly.

"Take your time. I'm helping you out."

"I'm trying to figure out what these noodles are made of, and …" Andy let out a despondent sigh. "You're not helping me, because I'm helpless at getting dates anyway," the ruddy-haired young man murmured into his dish.

"I am so helping you. Girls try to pass at me and I just don't care. It's all about you. Get out there and show them your mating dance," the blond snorted jokingly.

"Mating dance, really?"

"Girls love that. Well, not all of them. Er, not many of them, actually."

Kuro sat back watching their little banters, feeling incredibly harmless for once as he mixed in with these innocuous folks. They were innocent exchanges that barely had anything to do with a grand scheme that he currently was itching to concoct.

"Oh, right," Neil turned and tapped Andy's plate. "Speaking of a girl, why hasn't your sister come along?"

"Oh? Jade?" Andy chewed through a mouthful. "Studying. As always."

"Jeez. Working hard for that pediatrician job, isn't she?"

He looked at Neil and scratched the few sparse, rusty-colored sprigs of hair on his chin. "Yeah. She likes it. She loves kids. She's still young but I think she'll do fine once she finds a good mentor," he moved his fork around the plate.

"Good going, uh… Isn't her birthday coming up soon?"

Andy shrugged. "She's turning 18 in a few months. Dad's encouraging her to go off and find somewhere to train."

"Little squirt," Neil grinned cheekily. "I'm proud of her."

Nelle didn't talk much aside from idle complaints about her job, and put forth minimal effort to talk about her studies. There were moments where Kuro would block out each of their voices and get caught in his own bout of thinking, even though the younger man across from him kept gabbing away at his colleagues incessantly and providing to be a distraction.

Neil touched the waitress's shoulder for a moment and turned to address her. "I'll always stay, for the par-tay," he rhymed and shook the bottle of champagne she handed him. "Watch out!"

"Don't get that near my face," Nelle raised a hand at her sibling.

"I'm not—"

"Don't."

The cork popped and Neil caught the fountain of foam on his plate, cheering through closed eyelids.

"Bear with me. Neil is younger and less seasoned than I. He lives in a dorm complex with scores of other reckless recruits," Nelle moved her eyes toward him while she talked into her glass.

"I'm not surprised," mumbled Kuro. He assumed that Neil and his friend were around the same age, perhaps a little shy of a decade younger than him. Budding early-twenty-somethings with a more carefree outlook of the world.

Nelle coughed and paid him some attention. "I apologize. This really has nothing to do with what needs to be done."

"I have to get used to this place sooner or later."

"Yes. A good way to look at it."

The clock whirled and an hour or two went by, along with a herd of empty glasses encircling Neil.

"Kurt, I am just… I'm so sorry," Neil moved his head slowly and his voice dipped and cracked, while his hand was on Kuro's shoulder in an attempt to be apologetic. "This is an awful first impression of me, but… Ahah, I'm sorry. Lucian's just opened, and I'm excited, and everyone's excited, and… Are… Are you excited?" His friendliness was apparent, but it didn't change the fact that he was getting on his nerves with his slurred rambling.

"You could say that." His black eyebrows twitched while he slouched forward in his seat with annoyance, not even taking the time to look the younger man in the eye.

"Mm. Good. That's good then. Great stuff. You know, I, I work… Or, I go to the Marine academy not too far away from here. It's good to get away from the, uh, the discipline. 'Know what I mean?"

Kuro nearly choked on his drink, and the water gargled in his mouth to produce an unappealing noise.

Marines?

"Whoa, whoa, 'you alright?"

He coughed and nodded silently at the Marine, looking clearly angry.

"You know, ha ha, our parents, they wanted some consistency with our names, right?" Neil stretched and turned his head towards the ceiling.

"Uh-huh…" Kuro tolerated, pursing his lips and slowly ripping up the soggy napkin in front of him.

"I think, well, they originally thought they were having a boy, so technically…" He paused to hiccup and catch his breath. "So technically, Nelle is Neil, and I'm… I'm Neil..." the man nearly confused himself as he pressed his hand into chest, pointing to himself. "Nelle was supposed to be Neil. The whole female thing changed that. Duh."

"Oh," Kuro pushed his glass aside. He was uninterested in his other drunken tirade, and already had his mind set on bunking in the inventor's house.

Once the bar got rowdier and the clanging of glasses was practically buzzing inside of their ears, the inventor prompted to leave as soon as possible, with the assertion that there were plenty of files to go through the next morning. Kuro could use a few days of rest and recovery, but he was also yearning for money, and would stop at nothing to get it if it meant hunting down some names and faces. They bid some hasty farewells, with Neil waving boisterously and complimenting his false background with dimmed reflexes, and Andy moving his hand meekly in a goodbye.

"I've told you before that I have connections," Nelle said as she hung her coat near the front door. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow's another day." The woman sighed tiredly, and sat at her desk, turning on its lamp, and resting her elbows on a massive book. "If you treat me and any other civilian with respect, I assure you that my management will be something you want to hold onto. My landlord's an interesting man. He's got leverage. He's got the type of leverage that's helpful."

"I anticipate the results," Kuro eyed the spare room. "Thank you for the hospitality."

"Uh-huh," the inventor responded distractedly, and showed no signs of sleeping soon as she cracked open the book and tore out paper after paper from a ledger.

Kuro closed the door, locking it, and situated himself into the springy bed fit for one. He stared aimlessly at the shadows that painted themselves across the ceiling as the white fan lazily spun above him. The window behind him was large and he could see the water lapping up against the rocks near the coast. A few silhouettes of unknown animals appeared and disappeared in the distance, only to leap out of his interest moments later.

He sat up with genuine wonder as to what the next few days would bring. Within his hands he currently held all of the time in the world to think of his next elaborate plan, and of the pathetic lot that he would have to trace for their bounties and for his own personal freedom. Everything was both a waiting game and a well of opportunity.

He clutched onto order and predictability like the cycle of the tides, and throughout his years, he was all too used to it.