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

Spoon is, according to one meme, lawful good. It's just that his law is a combination of God's, yautja, and the Book of Wells at about equal weight.

Stealing is not something that he's ever going to be comfortable with, but getting stoned as a witch is even lower on his list of priorities.

"Right then, Mister Gibbs. You have more skill in this area than I do. What's next?"

"First, we watch the house for a bit, to see if anyone's around. Then we enter, find you some clothes, and assess whether you're getting a fait market value int he trade." When you work with Jack Sparrow, you learn all the appropriate words to deny you are actually stealing, when needed.

And he has the sense that Spoon needs to hear those words. As does anyone else in potential earshot.

What, just because his hands keep curving for the fags that are anachronistic here? Or the way he keeps scenting the air?

"I don't smell anyone but us." Mostly Gibbs. Spoon bathed when he woke up.

Gibbs tries not to smile. A wolf would be an asset to any pirate. But it's probably bad luck to use one.

"Then it's a simple matter of entering." Simple, that is, if you are good at spotting the open window. And climbing in as if you belong there and left the keys at home. (And how do you know that Duvall has money? He can afford locks!)

Climbing, at least, Spoon is good at. Needs must when the devil drives, and he is so going to find himself revenge somehow when he gets back. Not getting back is not an option, at all.

Inside, the Caribbean sun shines on a large room, part parlor and parlor dining room. Stale smells of food waft from a small kitchen. The rooms are overfilled with furniture, some imported from Europe, some made locally and of a far lower quality.

Gibbs looks around, taking inventory, even though he has no intent of taking anything so large.

"Yes, Duvall has been living well. Almost makes me wish I were a merchant with connections to the black market and the French pirates." He walks towards the next room and opens the door.

"Don't look at me, I'm from the future." Spoon is just trying to figure out how much silver is around and likely to be picked up if he was wrong and there is someone around.

It's interesting, in that this is the first time I've robbed someone kind of way.

"Ah, but surely in the future, there are still men such as him, playing the honest man and not meaning it?" And surely such men deserve to be visited by those who never play honest.

Gibbs enters the back room, which is a very cramped but well appointed bedroom. He opens a wardrobe to find it filled with woman's finery. "His wife's. Or his mistress'. Or both. These French have no shame." He moves onto the next wardrobe (of two). "This is better. Let's see if he has anything to suit you."

Spoon holds out his left arm, silently, and then follows Gibbs silently.

...That's a lot of lace. And. Froofy things. Spoon is not a froofy man, and would look like an idiot in froofy shirts. "Uh." is his eventual statement, holding up a shirt with lace on the front, "Not that. Fuckin' hell."

"Lousy French fop. I've never seen him wear that sort of thing here. Must wear it around the house." His voice oozes with contempt. "He must have his regular clothes here somewhere." Gibbs looks deeper into the wardrobe, but is careful not to make a mess and leave a trail.

He finds something best described as average street clothes.

"That'll work." Spoon says, shucking out of his own clothing and emptying the pockets of anything that could implicate him as a time-traveler. Fags, lighter, wallet, fudge, dog-treats.

It's a testament to his time in Dardania and Troy that he neither hesitates to strip nor considers his scarring when he does so.

Gibbs gasps at the sight of the scars. He's seen men in bad shape - often thanks to the whip of more severe commanders as well as battle and accidents with gunpowder - but never so much damage to a man in such good shape otherwise. He withholds comment and takes Spoon's clothing.

"Yes...Duvall is getting a good deal. Finely stitched, no rips or holes, and fabric that I doubt they even have in Paris." The wheels of mild injustice turn.

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."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject