pirate_gibbs | A Simple Trade

A Simple Trade

Gibbs has led Spoon away from the docks, away from the shacks and lean-tos that make up the majority of the buildings near the ocean, and uphill towards larger houses. By most standards, these wouldn't qualify as mansions, but the Economy of Tortuga operates on a small scale.

"See that one, Spoon? That's the home of Emile Duvall, one of the few successful merchants on this lsland. And a friend of the French establishment, as you might expect from his name. Thus a man whose taste in clothes is quite refined. I think he might appreciate the sort of fabric you have to offer.

"Or he would, were he home."

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At the gasp the werewolf tenses slightly, then says quietly, "The army isn't my favorite part of being British either."

Then Spoon forces a little laugh, "Cheap clothing, Mister Gibbs. I don't mind losing it. I work with the goats wearing that."

He wonders, not for the first time, how soldiers and sailors ever put up with such abuse.

"This is cheap?" He places the work clothes in the wardrobe. "I can't imagine the quality of the expensive clothes." This task done, Gibbs walks over to a small portable desk.

"Finer weaves, more rare fibers." Spoon says as he buckles his boots back up. There is nothing to be done about the fact that they're shiny, but he's not losing his boots.

It's like Jack's hat, only more-so.

"Now you'll fit in. A proper looking pirate, you are, in fact. As polished as old Braider Byrd himself. He had braids like those, back before my time, I'm told." He peeks in a draw and finds little of value.

"Polished." Spoon says with a snort, "Right, me? Polished? Sure, Mister Gibbs." Spoon is very aware that on the scale of good looks he falls firmly in the pleasant-but-goofy category.

"I didn't say as polished as a lord, Spoon. Just as polished as a pirate. Our standards for polish are fairly low." He gives a half-smile. "But men often respect the pirate who knows how to look the part. Why else do you think Jack dresses the way he does." Gibbs crosses back into the main room.

"Fair enough." Spoon says, "Fair enough. And I wouldn't know, don't remember ever meeting your captain."

Spoon follows Gibbs back out, thumbs tucked in his belt. He wants a fag. He really, really wants a fag.

"He did keep to himself a lot in the Bar. Or got lost on other people's worlds, and ships. I think he wanted to be out of there as much as I did." In the kitchen, Gibbs finds some silverware. He pockets it fast, not so mcuh because of Spoon as because that's what you do. "That should do it."

Even if he feels like a common thief for taking such common things. Pirates should do better.

If he wants, Spoon will carry a table out?

"Don't blame either of you. Being trapped isn't a fuckin' good thing at all." Spoon doesn't like traps, or cages, or cells.

"Bein' trapped was bad enough. Bein' dead and waiting your fate...it got to Jack sometimes. Made him vulnerable to the Bar's spells, I would say. " He grabs two bottles of rum, a tankard, and finally looks satisfied. "But I think you would have liked him. He has a way with people.

"I think we've made a our trade. Shall we see about making a further trade and then looking for doors?"

"Right, then. Lead on, Mister Gibbs, and I will follow." Spoon is not going to argue with Gibbs doing what he needs to do. It's one of those things where you don't go and screw with your friends in their lives...especially when you need them. "Might try to look him up, if he ends up in the bar again."

"I can't see him going back, but then Jack used to like it before he died. He might like it again now that he's bakc among the living." Something in Gibbs' tone imples that his own verdict is still out.

They leave the house, with only the missing tankard as evidence of their visit. Duvall won't notice it's gone for days, anyway.

"Back among the living?" Spoon asks after a minute, "Didn't hear about that. Hope that you do end up back and not Bound. Enjoy seeing you around."

That someone thinks he should visit the Bar might get him to visit. It depends, he supposes, on his revenues. Rum can be costly there, and he wouldn't want to be around a brothel that classy and not be able to test it once.

"It's quite the story. We sailed first to Panama, and then to Singapore, and then the edge of the world itself. And then had to do the impossible to bring Jack back. That we survived is a tribute only to Jack's cunning and resolve." Barbossa should get some credit, and never will.

They walk towards the center of the town, not quite busy as the merchants and traders and whores begin another workday.

Spoon is more than willing to listen to the pirate talk about what happened. At this point Spoon is more capable of watching what else goes on here. Now, because he's got someone else that he knows around, there is a certain amount of relaxation.

"Thing is, I'm not eniterly sure that Jack was ever dead. Merely...exiled to the Bar, with his ship, along the way to the Locker. But then Jack's always been one for cheating death." Crowds flow past them. Not the sort of crowds you might see in a city in in Spoon's day, or even Gibbs' Bristol, but enough to leave a sense of a town on the go.

"And once Jack was back, we chated death again and beat back the East India Company. It was quite the battle.

"Sea battle?" Spoon is pretty sure the answer is going to be yes, "Never been in one, meself. Fought a monster in a lake, once, but that's all."

"Well, what good would an army me be in a sea battle," he says waggishly. "Can't say you're missin' that much. We fire at them, they fire at us, there's lots of mayhem, and if only you have the luck of Jack Sparrow or the dogged and stupid determination of Will or Elizabeth Turner can you get out of it ahead.

"Though it was something to see, two ships battlin' in the maelstrom."

Spoon raises his eyebrows and says, "I can regrow limbs taken off by cannon fire.

"Maelstrom? Really? Were you out there in it too, Mister Gibbs?"

"That's a bit disturbing, Spoon. But it would come in handy." Not that he ever wants to see it.

"I was out there, aye. And I don;t mind tellin' you that for a while, I wasn't sure we'd make it back. But I should have known better than to doubt Jack." He doesn't know the full story of what happened on the Flying Dutchman and is content in assuming that Jack saved most of the day.

Spoon opens and closes his right hand a few times, but doesn't say anything else. "He sounds like a good man." Spoon offers after a minute. There's not, to be honest, a whole lot that he can say about a man he never actually met.

"A good man, and a pirate. And..." He pauses. "And sometimes hard to cope with. Which is why I don't mind that he's off trying to find his ship now and I'm here." Sure he doesn't. "Haven't really had the chance to enjoy Tortuga in far too long, anyway."

They are near a rather nondescript shop with a sign that reads "Exchange."

Spoon snorts, just a little, and says, "Try that again on someone who doesn't smell as well as I do, Mister Gibbs. You want to be out where he is. What's all this, then?"

"You can tell that by smell?" Gibbs didn't expect that. "Yes, I want to be out there, but sometimes the captain has to be on his own." And sometims first mates need to be disciplined for losing ships.

"This a place I can exchange the silver for something usable to cover the bills."

"I can tell a lot of things by smell." Spoon says, "Like that you were lying to me." then, after a pause, "Try not to get silver in return."

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