Though reclined and loose, it's noticeable that the captain has advanced a defensive barrier around himself as his scrutinizing eyes intensely heed the persons meandering in his quarters. The curtains to his bed and library are closed, and he's heightening his other senses to track the movement behind him.
"We're not here to submit with insubordination or anything, captain; we're just interested in what happened with you and the British guy. A lot occurred at once, so maybe — or maybe not? — you abandoned some important bits of the story," precautions Oluwande with his soft, brown eyes. With Frenchie in the right chair, he occupies the lone right chair.
Stede exhales with rising impatience and states, "This investigation you're all seeking will be fruitless, given that I've told you all there is to know."
Wee John halts his examination of some documents on one of the tables near the wall window, spins, and comments, "Hm, see, that's quite suspicious. It definitely implies that you're not telling us everything."
"That's because I'm not; I'm only telling you what you need to know," answers the captain, and he notices that it's not the response they're seeking. That's too bad, then, because it's all they're receiving.
There's a stillness to the room, and the crew are nonverbally communicating to themselves; Stede rolls his eyes and lets them have at it. Silently, The Swede and Wee John haul a desk chair and the chaise from the library area so that they're sitting with the masses. It's almost like a standoff: The captain sits on the couch, and the crew is bestrewed before him.
Jim snarls, swiftly perimeters the middle table, and leans into their captain's face. "Alright, you'll listen very closely, Stede, because I will only ask this once," they advise, then linger because the golden-haired man isn't reacting in the manner he usually does; this time, there's a daring, fearless aura about him as he silently gazes back at them. It's both alluring and offputting, but never mind that. Next, they question, "When you and the other guy were in here, did you murder him?"
"Yes, by using the stun move," answers Stede matter-of-factly. This conversation is serving déjà vu; on deck on the day of, he revealed to the masses that he murdered the Badminton on purpose, which included pleasantries from the crew. Since then, what's changed for this conversation to arise?
"I didn't teach you a stun move that involves a goddamned rapier through the eye, so try a-fucking-gain," disapprovingly reacts Jim with a tut.
Stede is hushed and puts on a front of pondering. Why does it seem that Jim is appalled by his actions? For someone that named him the worst fucking pirate-captain in history during the table-turning hash on the Spanish ship, you'd suppose that now that Stede's accomplished one of the big-and-the-dirty piracy ordeals, they'd be on neutral ground. And, while we're at it: With Black Pete (and the others): Isn't this something the all-powerful Blackbeard would do? Hell, the said man is literally on the ship.
Eh, clearly, the crew doesn't know which side of the fence they're on.
The captain sucks his teeth, flicks his eyes to meet Jim's, then leans to the side and around their body to meet the stares of the others. Suspiciously, he invites with innocence, "When we tugged Nigel's body to the deck, what did you all discern?"
The crew frowns and glances at each other. Is this a trick question? Lucius recrosses his arms over his chest and uncomfortably replies, "Well, it was quite challenging to disregard the noticeable — a dead man with a rapier through his eye, y'know, that sort of thing."
Oh, they're from the bottom of the barrel, indeed. Of the complete nine, seven are in his room, and no-one can distinguish another component other than the already-evident with Nigel's body. Let's pray that the Revenge is never on trial because they'd fail their defense before it begins. Of course, no-one is expecting any of them to be Inspector Gadget, but c'mon. Considering this, the captain delivers a minute smirk, leans back on the couch, and sounds with a clap, "Well, there you go. Are we done?"
Really, the Revenge Crew should be ashamed for unknowingly permitting the captain to earn the upper-hand. To provide them some credit, they did have a worthwhile strategy planned, and, mostly, Part A and Part B were executed: Outnumber the captain and propel him to confess if he killed the man or if it was an accidental-suicide. They technically already knew Part B, but don't tell them that; sometimes, like now, they share one brain cell.
"No, we're not," dangerously begins Black Pete from where he's leaning on the wall near the door alongside Lucius. His hands are fisted at his side as he advances, and the table and insubordination are the only deterrents between them as he glares above his sitting captain. "There's something new about you, and I want to know what it is. You're not the sort to discipline your crew. Like fuck, boss, you literally did that to Lucius," he points at the younger man who's got a troubling, red ringlet around his throat that's poorly covered by his scarf.
The scribe's eyes enlarge, and he loudly-whispers, "I didn't tell you about that."
Black Pete scuffs and reasons, "Babe, it doesn't take a genius to put two-and-two together."
Stede's eyes season on Lucius, and the boy's breath shakes as he quickly declines his gaze to his lap. How surrendering of him. The captain says with his regard on the boy, "Yes, I did that. He'll best know his place by not speaking against me the next go-around, isn't that right, boy?"
A power-play transpires, and The Crew of the Revenge still doesn't know what's happening. This isn't the man they encountered since their recruitment. Perhaps they're apprehensive in confronting the possibility that their Barbadian captain differs none from the other infamous pirate-captains. This golden-haired man who, not too long ago, couldn't even descend or ascend a ladder adequately has this unknown façade about him that indicates destructive undertones. Looting the unfortunate fishermen for the simplicity of their plant was a decoy to initiate the bestowing of his name. But, wait: That's what this is, isn't it? It's a game to the captain, like when he told everyone to get in their place and look scary.
In such a short timeframe, how did Stede Bonnet go from pinching a plant to murdering a British man, holding two additional Britishmen in captivity for ransom, challenging Blackbeard's first-mate, and not-so being the culprit for the elite fighting and blazing themselves on another ship? Plus, with that, have the Blackbeard aboard his ship? And, let's be honest: What's gentleman about any of that?
"Yes, captain," hesitantly answers Lucius, and, oh, words can't depict how the response influences the others.
"It sounds like you're trying to tell us that the Badminton didn't just die from the eye wound," cautiously hints The Swede. Honestly, he's wiser than he lets on.
Wee John rallies and asks with fixation, "Captain, what did you do? How did you do it?"
The Revenge Captain is noiseless as he sits on the couch, and the absence of a response disgruntles some. Nonetheless, he remarks, "You're not ready for that."
Jim scuffs and voices, "I've seen — done — more bloodshed than your privileged ass can ever imagine. Whatever you did, it doesn't match that. Tell us what happened."
"No," replies Stede with finality as his eyes harden on them. With his arms thrown over the couch's edge, his left hand is near the discarded dagger from earlier that remains on the table behind him.
Finally, Frenchie enters the discussion and attempts to redirect, "OK, you said that the two of you went to boarding school together. Can you tell us something about that?"
"Never."
Lucius rolls his eyes, lifts his arms, and then drops them heavily on his thighs. He raspily declares, "This is literally going nowhere; it's a fuck-load waste of time."
"No, no," starts Stede with a lifted hand, "I marvel at your lots' tenacity, and I'm feeling giving, so I'll tell you this: The weapons are in this very room."
"Weapons, with an s?!" reiterates The Swede, and the captain delivers a firm nod. He, Wee John, Frenchie, and Black Pete burst from their chairs and hastily start pillaging the captain's quarters.
The Brigade of Barbados entitles them to fiddle with his belongings. He mockingly pouts at Oluwande, Lucius, and Jim as they remain at their posts. He pitches a thumb over his shoulder and surveys, "You're not going to join your fellow crewmates?"
"No, cap, 'cos you're bluffing. When I was in the room, you were literally teary-eyed and blowing a gasket," reasons Oluwande. Silently, Jim moves to stand alongside him.
Stede chuckles with a head shake and cross-questions, "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you, Olu? How did it feel to get your hands on some people who've always done you wrong?"
Lucius clears his throat and discloses, "I didn't participate in that. I couldn't, actually; that's not my scene."
"That's alright, boy. I didn't expect you to," pardons the captain with a dismissive hand wave. Next, he commands, "Better yet: Come here, Lucius." Oluwande and Jim glance at the scribe, awaiting his actions. Stede notices and tests the waters by adding, "Well, come now, boy. You wouldn't disobey your captain's orders, right?"
The scribe-slash-right-hand man attempts to glimpse at anything and everything that isn't his captain but is unsuccessful; everything in the room oozes a characteristic of his captain, so the endeavor is impractical. He supposes he's determined his conclusion on the situation: He likes it. Better yet, he wants it. Don't get him wrong: It remains a surprise that Captain Bonnet has this side to him, yet the thing in the hallway is instilled in his mind. The boy hunts for Pete, but the said man is still busily questing for the so-called presumed weapon, so he ganders at his crewmates, who obediently hold their tongues.
Ever-so warily, the youngster perimeters the table and slowly sits to the left of his captain. Sitting like this without the costume provides more validation of the genuine size and essence of the older man. His massive thighs widened, and it's all meaty, hardened muscle. The man's body overtakes most of the couch with his arms still over the couch's edge, and Lucius strains not to lean into him intimately. Goddamned it, does his captain look enchanting in his full-black getup and shaggy hair.
Stede lands a weighty hand on Lucius's right knee while examining his other crew members. The scribe operates every ounce of his being not to seem astonished under the warmth of the man's large hand. There's a dumbfounded expression on their faces, which causes him to chuckle. With their fringe in their eyes, Jim favors Stede's strands; they prefer this new, loose hairstyle.
"You can touch it, Jim," offers Stede. His ease of observation unsettles the crew, and they haven't resolved why. He and Jim have a stare-off until the other concedes with a sigh.
The mute-by-choice marks the longest course to their captain until there's nothing between them. The captain slowly leans forward and tips his head upwards to meet their eyes. Jim appears to be battling something in their reverie, their hands clenching and unclenching by their sides. They glance over their shoulder at Oluwande before meeting their captain's eyes again. Without eliminating eye-contact, Stede reaches down and grasps one of their hands, brings it to his head, and says:
"Touch me, Bonifacia."
It's as if the room is barren except for Stede and Jim. They release a choked exhale and then, on their own accord, move to sit on the left side of their captain. Awestruck, they lift their shaking hand to their captain's hair. Ever attentive and compassionate to his crew, the man softly inclines into their embrace.
"Fab, isn't it?" honors Stede, and he feels Jim nod as their hands resume trembling through his gold-colored hair.
"Your real name is Bonifacia?" feebly asks Lucius.
Before they can answer, the quartet is aggressively interrupted by their other crewmates. "Fuck this shit. We can't find the weapon, captain," confesses Black Pete in a huff.
Stede grins against Jim's chest and responds, "That's too bad."
"I don't know what's happening, but it's precious," remarks Wee John as he sits on the chaise. He beams at the scene with the captain and Jim, something he'd once thought he'd never witnessed.
"I like this. Is this what we are now, then?" vaguely asks Frenchie, but the others comprehend what he's inviting and nod.
The Swede's eyes nervously roam the room, then meet his captain's eyes and allude, "Well?"
Stede raises his head from Jim's chest to be on their shoulder and subtly spreads his legs further, his knees slightly hitting Lucius and Jim, with the latter repositioning to continue handling their captain's hair. The Swede rises from his seat and moves to kneel before his captain.
Pete courses forward and grips the back of Oluwande's chair to acquire a better view. "I want to see, too," he announces.
The Swede rotates to glimpse at his captain, who delivers a stable nod. He places his hands on Captain Bonnet's knees and, ever-so gradually, ascends them. As he does so, his large hand has difficulty grasping the muscle underneath the black pants. Reaching the waistband, he thumbs his fingers under the hem, then — ah, hell. There's a knock at the door.
The crew's awareness is still honed on their captain and crewmate; no-one rises to answer the door as the knocking ensues. The Swede endeavors to answer the door, but Stede's arms clasp around his waist and pull him into his lap.
"No, they can wait," tells the captain as he caresses his hand over the other man's chest with his left hand remaining on Lucius's knee.
Frenchie goggles at what's happening on the couch: The stern Jim is stroking the captain's hair; Lucius and The Swede look as if they're precisely where they want to be.
It's fresh and different, yet so tempting. He mutters, "It's always the quiet ones."
The knock resumes. Who is it?