{ Shit To Say Meme }
“Mister Jack,” Abigail’s smile was as warm as it was nervous, “I am beginning to wonder if the real reason you’re called Jack has nothing at all to do with your parents and everything to do with how many trades you know!”
{ Iconic Lines }
“As will we all, McGraw, yourself included.” Graham’s response was not antagonistic, or even unnerved. His was too devout a faith to be shaken by threats of God’s wrath from a man who barely knew him, and certainly not by a man who made no effort to be seen as good in His book. “But we are not here to discuss our place in this world, nor what becomes of us after we leave it. We are here to discuss terms of an alignment – unless I am to take from your vitriol that there is no hope of allegiance here, and that the Scarborough and the Walrus must stand at odds?”
There was no denying McGraw was a smart man – which surely meant he would not try to pit his forty against Graham’s nigh eight hundred souls. There would be no benefit to it and in fact it was far more likely he would face a mutiny for the damned attempt, and Graham would be right back here in less than forty-eight hours to negotiate terms with the new captain of the Walrus, whilst Flint lay deposed of on the beach somewhere, with no position left with which to barter or bargain.
Surely, no man was idiotic enough to set his emotions that far above fucking logic.
{ Children of Hurin Starters }
“Victors do have the habit of bragging about their accomplishments,” Charles’ agreement was rough and dismissive – he could think of few ‘great battles’ in recent years that were anything more than wholesale slaughter in the name of fucking profits.
Of course, in order to live with that shit, the winners had to turn it into something worth talking about so that their ‘civilized’ existences could maintain itself and not collapse inward under the weight of hypocrisy it barely functioned beneath as it was.
Glancing over at Jack, he relented slightly – if only because he knew there’d be no real discouraging him, and it was better to have him go off in high spirits than have him spend the next fuck knew how long in an effort to convince Vane that his story was absolutely relevant somehow.
“So what did they do? I’m assuming their victory applies to our plan somehow?”
{ Kissy Starters }
“Can’t say I’d want any of those fucks that close to my balls, but all the power to you I guess?”
It was a testament to the relationship held between Charles and his quartermaster that Rackham could just say hold out your hands and he would do so without suspicion or fear – and considering that act was in a sense a sign of surrender, something that could easily turn to shackles on his wrists if he were not fast enough to react – spoke loud and clear about how much trust was held between them.
Jack did not disappoint – what he had to deliver was small even in his own hands, but set into Charles’, the little lizard was adorably dwarfed. Tucking the tiny thing close so that it would have a greater sense of security and freedom in wandering, he grinned brightly at it before looking up at Jack ( not thinking to wipe his features before doing so ) and wondered honestly, “Where did you find this, then?”
Propping himself up with a grunt, the explanation for that was perfectly simple. “There was a lizard.” She’d crawled up on him when he’d laid down to figure out what was making the scratching noises under his bed – there’d been two of them, but the other one had wandered off and the one resting on him had been perfectly content where she was thanks to the way the sun fell upon them at the time. Eventually, he’d just fallen asleep – it wasn’t like he was needed anywhere urgently today.
Between Rackham and Bones, Charles had been strong armed into staying in his cabin and recovering from the vicious fever coursing through him on account of a few injuries that had gotten infected. The surgeon had already been in, and on the positive side the wounds were clearing off – nothing was rotting, which was certainly a good thing.
However, he was still relatively floored by the illness, and was likely to be bedridden for at least another three or four days – a prognosis he had been less than thrilled to hear. He had tried to argue, and had been dosed for his troubles – he knew a bedridden captain was no good to anyone, but it seemed the fucks were determined to keep him down for now.
That it had come down to being fed was grating – but with the way his hands shook, it would just end up all over him rather than in his stomach anyway, and Charles knew better than to be that wasteful. Pride swallowed down with every spoonful of broth, Charles eventually turned his head away in silent refusal. Something cool touched his cheek then, and he turned – immediately relenting to the drink he was offered out of sheer necessity for it. After which, he laid his head back down and tried to battle down his dizziness enough to sleep.
The sooner he was healthy, the better for all of them.
{ Hurt Prompts }
“Doesn’t matter,” Charles croaked, already reaching for his shirt as he forced his aching body into an upright position, “Bell’s been called. Tell Jack to get himself to bed,” He knew the only reason Rackham wasn’t the one in here was because the damn shit was wholly aware that he was ill and would therefore be impossible to deal with. Doubtless the fuck was hoping Billy could persuade him into resting, and the two had already conspired like he wouldn’t figure that out in a heartbeat. “You’re third watch – feel free to head below as well.”
“They had it coming,” Charles snarled, his teeth bared in fury even as he held still for the smaller man as he dabbed a wet cloth against his skin, wiping away the blood and grime accumulated in the wake of the much overdue cleaning up that had been undertaken today.
Blind eyes had been afforded for too long – if Nassau was going to function for shit, she needed to be self managed – and that would not happen if fucks like Captain Gervaine believed they could waltz in here and start fucking around with everybody else’s business and goods without facing consequences for it.
That the son of a bitch had tried going after Cutler was a very small point of Charles’ reasoning for putting an end to matters once and for all, but he could imagine what it must look like to the other man, and he didn’t want him reading too much into it. At least, not right now, when there were others who had to be convinced his actions had come from a point of pure logic, rather than having any sort of emotional undercurrent.
{ Don’t Starters }
Charles – could identify with the loss that Billy was going through, on various levels. Some were older and long since scarred over, while others were wounds that continued to fester beneath the surface. He wanted to acquire this man for his crew – of that, there was no question – but he had never wanted it to come at a price so steep as the loss of another pirate, let alone one as good as Gates had been, when he wasn’t so far up Flint’s ass it was a wonder he could breathe. Fat lot of fucking good his position up there did him, in the end.
Heaving a sigh, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and folding his hands together as he eyed the other man thoughtfully before asking the obvious question. “So what do you plan on doing about it?” If Billy was going to twist himself up on vengeance – that could prove a problem if he got reckless about it. But if he just needed a way out – that was something Charles knew he could provide, if need be.
Ocean Archive 