For the most fleeting of moments, he wondered if somehow Flint knew. There was no fucking way for that to be possible – but the man had a way of getting the world to revolve around him that it was only too easy to imagine the truth coming to him in a dream or some other bullshit.
Glancing off, he feigned a thoughtfulness he didn’t actually feel as he responded frankly, “It’s my name. Am I supposed to feel something particular about it?” He had no more chose this one than he had any other – but arguably, it was the name under which he had made the most decisions without direction or command from anyone else.
There were days when he hated this life even more than the last one, but what good was there in getting pissed about it? Things were what they were – either he adapted to meet them, or he perished in the wake of the challenge. There was nothing to consider here.
“John Silver is me. If you’re asking what I think of myself, I think we both know I am my one truest and most loyal supporter. Beyond that, what else is there?”
Ocean Archive 