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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

"Lying? I never lie. I merely adjust the truth to suit the circumstnace." He tries not to smile as he says this.

"Gold coins are always the best, Spoon." Even not taking into account the werewolf thing.

"Gold, copper, bronze, or bone...just not silver." Spoon says wryly, "Want me to come in, or be better if I stay out here?"

"Ye're welcome. Old Stump won't pay any attention either way." He opens to the door to a cluttered, filthy 18th century version of the pawn shop. Behind the counter is a very tall, very stocky man.

Spoon nods, at that, and slides in after the pirate. He does a moderate amount of looking around (mostly to see if there are any interesting weapons), then takes stock of the very large man.

Being Spoon, his first thought is I could take him.

There are few weapons, though the ones on view are old and well-made swords from places like Spain and Prussia. How they made it to Tortuga is anyone's guess. Otherwise, the shop has a variety of items, including a few things with the stamp of the East India Trading Company.

"Mister Gibbs, it's been a while...I hear Jack lost the Pearl again? What can I do for you today?" Stump's voice is a baritone with a vaguely Dutch accent.

"I have some items to trade, as usual."

"Let me see." Gibbs shows off his take.

Spoon has swords, so he drifts on past them and looks other things over. Nothing really catches his eye, honestly, but he's a simple man with simple wants. ("A fag" is high on the list right now.)

He's listening to Gibbs and the proprietor haggle, of course, but he'll only interject if Stump starts to smell like he's getting away with something more than usual.

The haggling is going well, though. The silverware is good quality, and the tankard is actually an antique of sorts. Stump offers a fair price (as far as Gibbs can tell) and Gibb's buying power is doubled immediately.

"Spoon, see anything you want to trade for further?"

"Not really, Mister Gibbs. Thank you." He's got fags still, and really clothing and fags are all he needs.

And food. Later there will be LOTS of food.

"How many times do I have tell you lad, just Gibbs. 'Mister' is reserved for captains." Stump holds a back laugh as his customer and friend leave.

"See any likely doors to try?"

"Probably," Spoon says, "for the rest of me life. You just seem misterish to me." Spoon knows that he's a dork sometimes. It works for him.

"Uh. Fuck if I know. First time I got there I was after potatoes in the cellar."

"There are worse things to be called." And he's been called them, of course.

Gibbs looks around the busy town. Doors everywhere. Many pubs, a few brothels, some merchants. "Pick one?"

"Uh." says Spoon, intelligently, and then he starts opening merchant doors. (The brothels are going to be left for last, thanks.)

Gibbs peeks in, smiles, takes note of the goods, and lets Spoon try a few.

"No luck, eh? Maybe I should try." And he picks a few bars, looking to see if any rather friendly bartenders are around but seeing none. And he surely sees no magic bar on the other side.

"Please, God," Spoon's voice is sincere, he's actually praying, "please don't let it be another two years. Please." and then he nods and continues opening doors.

"Going to have to find a place to spend the night, it seems."

Gibbs has tried his luck at some doors. There's much of note in some of the bars, but no sign og teh bar Spoon is seeking.

"I have a place, if you need it. It's not quite at the standards of Milliways, but I can promise that there are no pigs, and that the owner of the loft only accepts guests of a certain quailty." Meaning that when morning arrives, none of the guests will be dead or further impoverished.

"Yeah." Spoon says, "That'd be nice, Mist...Gibbs. That'd be nice, Gibbs. Ta'." He doesn't start slamming doors, but only because it won't do any good.

(no subject)

pirate-gibbs.livejournal.com - 2007-10-23 17:01 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only