Barter

Characters: Law, Penguin, Shachi. Rating: K+. Warnings: OC PoV

Teenagers and alcohol were not a good mix. Sure, there were parents who let their kids sample something under supervision, or irresponsible pirates that let their cabin boys drink themselves into a stupor, but letting teenagers have alcohol was like adding fuel to a fire.

So, when a trio of teenagers came into her shop and asked nicely how much it would be for a large bottle of rum, she blinked once, twice, then politely suggested they consider juice instead.

"That won't do," the smallest said adamantly – he couldn't have been older than thirteen, surely. The other, taller, boys flanked him as if he was the leader of their little gang. It would almost have been cute if they weren't far too determined to get their hands on alcohol. "Rum, please. Whisky would also be acceptable if you're out of rum."

Considering both drinks were clearly visible on the shelves behind her, there was absolutely no point to that sentence except to tell her that the kid knew what he was asking for.

"Is it for your parents?" she tried. "They'd need to come and buy it themselves, I'm afraid."

"Is it so hard to just give us the damn drink?" one of the other boys, one with striking ginger hair, demanded. The smallest put his hand out to pacify him, and he settled back down with a glower.

"No, it's not for any adults," the little leader responded. His golden eyes were hard, and she wondered if they were orphans. They weren't from around the village, so they must have come in on one of the boats docked in the port. "We have the money, why is there an issue?"

"Teenagers shouldn't be drinking alcohol," she told them firmly, refusing to cower back when the taller ones took a step forwards, up to the counter. The one with the hat was taller than her, and her hand edged towards the gun concealed under the till. Pirates frequently tried to liberate her stock, but she wasn't so rich that she could afford to let a barrel or dozen go for free. She hoped these teenagers weren't going to force her to pull the trigger.

"It's not for drinking," she was told. "Our infirmary is in need of stocking and this island is lacking in medical supplies. I refuse to set sail without anything, so drinking alcohol will have to make do as a substitute until we find a better stocked island."

"In which case your doctor should be the one doing the shopping," she told him. "They must know alcohol isn't sold to teenagers."

"The doctor is the one doing the shopping." The kid crossed his arms. "That would be me. Now, are you going to sell it to me or am I going to have to take my business elsewhere?"

"This is the only liquor shop on the island, kid," she told him. "And even if it wasn't, no-one would sell you any."

"A pity," he sighed, then turned to his escorts. "We're leaving." She expected them – the ginger, at least – to kick up a fuss, but they both shrugged and followed him out. That didn't bode well; she'd be sleeping in the shop tonight, in case they tried to steal it later.

She turned away from the door, only to freeze as she caught sight of her shelves.

The rum was gone.

Not just the rum – the whisky, gin and vodka had also disappeared, leaving her with only the weaker alcohol. A note rested innocently on the shelf where they'd stood and she swiped it up viciously, crumpling it in her haste.

It's never a good idea to turn away paying pirates, it said. There was something scribbled in the corner, some sort of demented smiley, and she tore the note to pieces. How? How had they taken the drinks from right behind her when she'd watched them leave the shop?

Well, they couldn't be far. Swiping her gun and checking it was loaded – she didn't want to shoot them, but they'd stolen thousands of beris of stock and she needed that back – she ran out of the shop, sparing a moment to lock up, before sprinting for the port.

There was no sign of them.

"Hey!" she hailed the harbourmaster. "Three kids – short one with gold eyes, one with ginger eyes and one with a penguin hat. They been around here?"

"Oh, them?" he asked. "Just gone. Strange folk, teleporting around like that. They had a bear on their ship, too."

She looked back at the water, but couldn't see any sign of a freshly departed boat. And teleporting? What nonsense was that?

"They really did appear out of nowhere," the harbourmaster protested when she voiced her disbelief. "Some blue light and then, poof, there they were. The smallest one looked a bit tired, maybe it's one of those demon fruits?"

"Their boat?" she ground out. "Which way did it go?" If she had to go out to sea to catch the thieves then she would. No kids playing at pirates were going to get away with stealing that much stock, damn them!"

"Down," the harbourmaster said, sounding as if he didn't believe it himself. "Sank, cool as you please."

Sank? Those brats stole her alcohol just to, what, chuck it in some dinghy and sink the whole thing? That was taking petty to new extremes, and her hand tightened on the trigger. If they were really teleporting around, then they wouldn't have stayed on the ship while it sank. That meant they were still somewhere on the island.

She was going to find them, then she was going to gut them.

Rubbing alcohol is obviously the best stuff, but in a pinch the strong spirits can be used as a stopgap measure.

Outsider PoVs are always fun, especially when it's so easy to make them misunderstand what's going on.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari