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There is a certain thing that happens each and every time Shanks and Beckman and the rest of the crew land on a new island. No matter what the group decides to do with their afternoons on land, by nightfall they all end up gathering in the local tavern and almost always clearing the establishment of their entire stock of liquor and sake—most of which, of course, ends up going right in the Captain's tankard.

And every time, the local tavern keeps and bar goers are nervous around them, which is understandable. They are pirates, after all, so it's only natural for them to all be on their toes, but usually after a couple of hours the Captain has convinced them that they're only there to drink, and not cause any harm. Occasionally, someone will get angry and start throwing things at them, but as per usual the Captain just laughs and waves them goodbye with sake dripping down his chin.

But on the nights when nothing is thrown and no one gets angry, instead what usually happens is the people in the bar end up learning what is probably far more than they ever would have liked to about Emperor of the Sea, Red-Haired Shanks.

"—so of course I told Captain I'd take care of him!" Shanks is on his eighth refill of the night by now, sitting at a table surrounded by women while Beckmann pretends to drink from his own tankard, directly behind him. The woman have been swarming him all night, and while a couple of them got up and left to find someone else up on realizing the Captain clearly was not interested, quite a few were still hanging off of his every word. Even as every word he said had to do with—

"And he was so upset about it too!" Shanks moans, tossing his hands in the air miserably. His face is flushed, and he's swaying in his chair. He's beyond drunk at this point. Beckman sighs, swirling his drink and trying not to roll his eyes. "He kept apologizing and apologizing for making me miss my chance to see the treasure, and I told him I didn't care about that, that I just wanted to make sure he was okay! And it was perfect, that's what we were gonna do! Once he got better, we were gonna go back out there and be pirates again together!"

One of the woman coos softly, and this time Beckman can't help the irritated twitch to his brow. Yasopp sends him a knowing look from across the table as the woman presses her chest up against the Captain's, clearly vying for his attention. They both know she will get none of it.

"Do you think I did the wrong thing?" The Captain, predictably, ignores the breasts that are practically being thrust in his face. "I just wanted to stay with him. I didn't—" His words are beginning to slur and he hiccups several times in a row. The woman in front of him lets out a huff and draws back, pulling up her dress and looking over the rest of the group instead.

"Should I have tried to follow him? I-I mean, he was really angry and I'd never want to make him uncomfortable, s-so I—"

The woman who'd been pressing her chest against him moments ago stands up, and two more of the woman join her. Captain ignores them, leaning over the table and making suspiciously whiny noises into his tankard.

Beckman sighs, setting down his own tankard and pushing it over to Yasopp instead.

"You finished?" He asks, accepting the drink with no fuss at all.

"Sure," Beckman says, pushing up from his seat. "I think the Captain's done for the night as well. I'll be bringing him back to the ship."

"Sounds good." Yasopp waves him off, already gulping down half of the tank.

There are three woman left at the table when he arrives, although all of them look uncomfortable and stressed as he approaches. He points towards the bar, giving them reassuring smiles. "Don't worry ladies, I'll be taking over from here. You can leave my captain to me, yeah?"

All three of them press their lips together and nod before quickly hurrying off, clearly uncomfortable watching the almighty Emperor Shanks silent-cry into a mug of ale. Beckman is so far beyond practiced at this point, though.

He puts a hand on the back of the Captain's collar and pulls, yanking him up. As he suspected, his eyes are red and puffy and there's a permanent frown on his face.

"You're done, Captain." He says, leaving no room for argument. "Roux, come take this tank. I'll be bringing the Captain back to his cabin now."

"But...wait, what happened? Where'd everyone go?" Shanks furrows his eyebrows together, looking around confused at the empty table, apparently having only just realized he's been abandoned by all the women who'd been trying to get into his cabin tonight.

"You happened," Beckman mutters with a roll of his eyes, pulling him to his feet and slinging his arm over his shoulder.  His feet are unsteady, and he's supporting nearly half of his weight as they head for the door. Hongo holds the door for them—they're all probably a bit too practiced at this by now.

Thankfully, the bar they've stumbled into tonight is not far from the village's dock. They're probably used to drunken sailors in this place, but in this case it works out for them as it only takes about twenty minutes of stumbling and tripping over feet to get the Captain back on board the Red Force.

The Captain remains quiet, only occasionally mumbling something about the room spinning under his breath. Beckman all but shoves him down onto his bed in the captain's quarters before leaving to the galley to get a glass of water. He grabs a few painkillers from the medical bay at the same time to leave on the table for when he wakes up in the morning.

When he returns to the captain's quarters, the Captain is curled on his side in bed, and unshockingly, he's holding that damn wanted poster again, the one that's been in the drawer of his end table since the day it came out in the newspaper when the warlords were disbanded. Beckman sighs heavily, setting the water down on the end table along with a little cup of pain pills. "Here," He pushes the glass towards him, but the Captain doesn't so much as blink.

"I still don't get it." He mutters, and Beckman rolls his eyes, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"Get what, Captain?"

"Why he—he got so mad, Beck, I…" He trails off, finally putting down the poster with a groan. "I don't understand."

"I couldn't tell you any more than I could the last hundred times you've spoken about it, Captain." He picks up the glass and shoves it into his hands. "Now drink this. You'll thank me tomorrow."

He takes it, although Beckman knows from experience he probably isn't actually going to finish it. "I miss him."

"I'm aware, Captain."

"Should I try sending him a letter again? He might just get mad at me again like last time…"

"I don't know, Captain."

"What if I…sent him a gift or something with it? He always loved treasure. We have treasure, right?"

"Sure, Captain."

"But he'd probably just throw it out anyway…or take the treasure and burn a letter." He moans, dropping back into the blankets. Beckman just barely keeps the glass from spilling all over his bed. "I just want to talk to him again!"

"I know, Captain."

The Captain goes quiet now, and at last Beckman senses he's ready to fall asleep. He sighs, getting up and setting the still full glass back on the table. "Do I need to leave a bucket for you, Captain?"

"…no."

"Good." He heads for the door, leaving the Captain to roll around with his usual drunken lamentations. He's nearly out when he hears the soft ruffle of paper, and turns around to see the wanted poster drift from his hands and down to the floor. The cackling, sinister smile of Emperor Buggy the Clown grins up from the spot on the old wood floor of Shanks' cabin.