The slight tugging at his collar as it was drawn and smoothed back into its proper position stilled Hal’s hand from bringing yet another mug of mead to his lips. There were only three people who’d dare straighten him up – but only one he could think of who would be conscientious and caring enough to actually fucking do it.
“What’d this crew do to deserve you, Joji?” He asked, not even bothering to look and confirm his suspicions as he was efficiently brushed off. Hal adored his boys, of course – and he was damn near territorial of the lot of them – but there was an unspoken rule on the Walrus that pitted every man for himself in the aftermath of a brawl.
Oh, they were good enough in the midst of things – there was certainly a brand of loyalty among the crew to each of his brothers – but after all was said and done, they scattered like rats in the light to tend their wounds and their pride, as heaven forbid any man think another man weak aboard that bloody ship of theirs, as if they all didn’t know the chinks in one another’s armor anyway. Pride would sink them all one day, of that he was damned sure.
Shadow shifted beside him, and once Joji had sat down, Hal motioned the bartender to bring the man a drink. It was on his tab, as a thanks for the small gesture. “One of these days these damn kids of ours are gonna start a fight they can’t finish,” He mused mildly, knowing the silent man would understand well enough what he was really saying – of all the men aboard the ship, Joji was the one he trusted most, and knew would do well in his absence because none would think the Easterner was Hal’s confidant. Which meant he knew all the secrets, and not a damn soul would think to ask him to share any. “Then where will you and I be, I wonder?” Other than out of work, at any rate.
Ocean Archive 