15th Wave

[tentacruelest]

[Valentines]

Sylvanas;
Stay true to yourself.
Keep a weather eye on the horizon.
I'll guide you through the storm.

William Bush;
You keep me ship-shape,
Even if I loathe you for it at times.
Steer fast and true



[Spam]

[at dinnertime, a new face appears in the pub. He's old and he's an inmate, fiddling with an odd pocketwatch with one hand and hugging a Maine Coon cat in the other. Still, he navigates the Barge like he's been here for months. If anyone were to look closely they might determine that it's Tentacle Beard himself, disguised as a human.

He drops down in a booth, setting the cat on the table, and begins to order drinks.

Lots and lots of drinks.

Midway through, he starts singing;]

What d'yeh do with a drunken sailor..

What d'yeh do with a drunken sailor..

What d'yeh do with a drunken sailor, ear-lye in the mor-nin'...

Comments

[sickjoke]

Way, hey, and up she rises!

Way, hey, and up she rises!

Way, hey, and up she rises, early in the morning!

[ And that's a terrifying clownface that joins in, with singing and booze and a dropby. Chorus now handled, Davy can move on to lyrics about rusty razors and belly shaving. ]

[tentacruelest]

[A sober Jones would have immediately bristled, thrown his drink, and walked away.

But a sober Jones would not be singing either, and instead pounds the table with a fist, redfaced and laughing]

Goin' a mite too fast, lad.

[sickjoke]

Hmm, hmm, alright.

But can I at least carry the tune?

[tentacruelest]

Carry it where? That's the question.

[sickjoke]

Wherever it pleases me?

[tentacruelest]

But not anywhere near where the pitch is located.

[sickjoke]

I'm not that bad! I'm not even in the helmet. I have good projection.

[tentacruelest]

...Aye, you're that man in the bullet helmet.

[sickjoke]

Yes, that's me. The Red Hood. Out of it, you can call me Jack.

[tentacruelest]

[The angry ripple that passes through Davy at the name lasts only long enough for him to remind himself of how common the name "Jack" can be and it is most certainly not a reference to a hated enemy]

Can I? I'd prefer Red Hood.

[exnihilo]

Man. What wouldn't I do with a drunken sailor.

[But it's brashly roguish rather than actually lascivious. She leans against the booth and offers a hand casually for the cat to sniff. ]

Any of those drinks to share?

[tentacruelest]

[The cat - old and properly dignified - sniffs the hand once before pulling back and showing the interloper her backside.

Davy, in contrast, spreads an arm across the table]

Take yer pick, then.

[exnihilo]

[She snorts at the cat's disdain, although in fairness she probably smells mostly like the cigarettes she's been craving this whole flood. She scritches the back of the cat's spine and then sprawls into the seat opposite Jones, helping herself to a pleasantly heavy tankard of something or other. She doesn't really care what, as long as it's a drink.]

Thanks. You new or changed?

[She hasn't paid attention enough to see his human guise in passing, guesses the unfamiliar appearance might be down to the flood.]

[tentacruelest]

[The cat is significantly more docile and accepting of pets and attention, and continues to sit in the middle of the table, obstructing views to her hearts' pleasure.

Jones in turn drinks deep, afforded the opportunity to do so by this flood]

Changed. Changed, and not by this flood. We haven't met.

[exnihilo]

Mira Hidalgo.

[She holds up her glass to clank in lieu of shaking hands. The perfect excuse to pick up a full one immediately after draining the last.]

Is it a change you like?

[tentacruelest]

[He clinks his glass against hers, giving a smirk]

Davy Jones.

Oddly enough, aye. And I tend not to trust change, as a rule.

[exnihilo]

Oh, the guy with the...?

[She waggles her fingers under her chin, but it's indicative, rather than caricature. There's no mockery in her tone, nothing at all in fact except faintly surprised recognition.]

Well. You were more interesting that way. But I get not wanting to be interesting all the time.

[tentacruelest]

[His scowl deepens a little. Yes. Obviously. Even though there's no mockery, he's always been a prickly sort]

'Int'resting.' No, I don't like being it.

[exnihilo]

Doesn't it feel weird to lose them? Like you're suddenly missing half your hands?

[She's not tactful, but at least she's vague sympathetic.]

[hearrrtofgold]

[Duke is at the bar taste-tasting his whiskey when Jones starts singing, and he hums along with the first verse before joining in with his personal favorite.]

Soak him in oil till he sprouts a flipper,
Soak him in oil till he sprouts a flipper,
Soak him in oil till he sprouts a flipper,
Early in the morning.

Hi.

[tentacruelest]

[He grunts a greeting, resisting the urge to grin even as the drink makes him light-headed]

An honor to be in the presence of a Duke.

[hearrrtofgold]

You're just pulling my leg. But nonetheless... [He raises his glass to Davy and takes a sip.]

[tentacruelest]

[Davy copies the motion, before dropping his hand down heavily on his cat]

Sit. I like a good singer.

[hearrrtofgold]

Sorry. You're not getting an encore. [Duke flashes a smile and settles across from Davy, reaching a tentative hand out to the cat.] May I? - But. I could be talked into a duet.

[tentacruelest]

[He snorts in derision, downing another third of his mug]

Go ahead. I ain't stoppin' you.

[The cat is remarkably still and obedient for a cat, watching Duke's hand without the slightest bit of apprehension. It's pretty content to sit precisely where it is and let others come to it instead]