rage against the dying of the light

“I haven’t forgotten. Given it wasn’t my decision to board your ship…” He decides to stop talking, there, for a moment. He has nothing else to say about that, not when everything he can think about to say about it has already been said. “Perhaps it wasn’t my decision, though, but I will admit, it has been some of the most exciting weeks in my life.” That’s true. He feels slightly better about himself with the fact that he’s telling most of the truth through all of this. “You are right. Your crew is very dedicated to you. Some of them were very kind to me, as well. You have good men to be at sea with.”

They’re so close together that he can feel Ramsden’s body heat against his own skin where he’s naturally colder than everyone else, for some reason. It’s odd, but it’s comforting. Being so close to the only human he considers that he got to know well. “I am sorry you think so lowly of me, or if, other than being left in that crate, I have done anything to make you think of me like that. I have no intentions to do any of that, but I suppose there is no way I can prove it. So I understand.” 

“I didn’t think I could be, either,” He says, eyes moving away from the captain’s eyes down to his mouth. Maybe it’s a ridiculous thing to want for a final wish, and maybe he really is crazy. Yet, if nothing else, he knows he’ll be happy enough if it’s the last thing he ever gets. His first kiss - siren or human - and maybe something to think about as he’s dying. He can’t help but wonder if he’ll still be able to think about it in death, if there really is an afterlife, if he’ll still remember things and be able to think back on them. 

He can’t decide if he wants that or if he’d prefer the eternal silence. 

But for the moment, he decides to take the plunge. Standing a little taller on his tiptoes, he presses a gentle, chaste kiss against Ramsden’s lips. It’s nothing dirty, just closed lips on closed lips, but it’s all he needs. Perhaps he wants more, but it’s all he needs, and he has a feeling it’s all he will get, too. 

Ramsden knows what Leo wanted to say - he recalls their first conversation; his own accusations, Leo’s defending himself that his presence on the ship wasn’t brought about by his own accord. Then, he did want to know how exactly it happened if what Leo said was true and he wasn’t a stowaway on The Devil’s Merchant in the true sense of the word. Now, he can’t bring himself to care for it. There are too many other things occupying his mind.

“I don’t have any reason to think well of you,” is the last statement he throws at him, spits it out. He still can’t comprehend what Leo’s asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Maybe not confusion, just slight shock, one of the many situations in which he’s felt it with Leo. It shouldn’t come as a suprise anymore. But he has never spent as much time with other civilians as he has with Leo, so how could he have gotten used to it in such a short period of time?

The first thing he notices is that Leo suddenly becomes a bit taller. The second thing he notices is that he notices nothing at all. Leo’s lips are just there, on his, present and demanding attention in the gentlest manner, and the surprising thing isn’t that Ramsden’s first thought isn’t to push the boy away - it’s that it’s warm, all of it, the entirety of his own body, and maybe it’s what he’s been missing. He doesn’t dare develop the thought any further.

He pulls away, but it’s only for a second, and less than an inch from Leo’s face, before he presses his own lips against the other boy’s again. He doesn’t expect the kiss to be as soft, and he lets his hand drop to Leo’s hip. Ramsden squeezes him there, pulling him closer. His lips gliding against Leo’s, he wonders if that’s what was supposed to happen all this time.

Leo hesitates with moving his hand, a part of him wanting to keep touching Ramsden himself and the other just wanting some kind of physical comfort before he has to die. Both are bold, both are things that he knows very well he has no right to ask of the captain, but he still wants them. He moves his hand down to Ramsden’s arm. He can feel the heat of his skin through the thin material of his shirt, and he wants nothing more - for some odd reason - to keep touching him. “I suppose I could say the same. You’ve known me on the surface for less than a month as well and you’ve already condemned me a traitor and decided to kill me.” 

He doesn’t know the reason, but he doesn’t think he really needs to say that. He’s sure that Ramsden really does know that, but it’s a strange situation. “Again, I guess you’re right. You’re not obligated to do anything.” A sad weight settles in his chest as he starts thinking about how this is it once again. It’s a hard conclusion to have to face, and a part of him can’t help but wonder if this is a part of it, if Ramsden enjoys making him know he’s about to die, if he gets off on the idea of toying with a life. “Though, I suppose I could make my case and say that if I were truly a traitor or if I had intentions to kill you, your gun has been within my reach since we were sitting together at the bar. If I had plans to kill you, I would have done it already. Do what you will with that information.” 

“You’ve said it yourself, you’re not obligated to do anything. But I’m going to ask anyway because I have nothing to lose. Will you kiss me? I think I deserve to have my first kiss before I die, if nothing else.” It’s a shred of truth that he thinks he can let go of before he dies. Yet, all he can really think of is that it might take his mind off of the pain of dying if he can focus on something else. It gives light to how much he was fibbing with his earlier sexual teasing, but he doesn’t care. Not anymore. He just looks up to Ramsden and makes more direct eye contact, trying to force a smile. 

He doesn’t follow Leo’s hand with his gaze, but it’s all that he can focus on as it happens. The thought of how contrasting his previous experiences with men were to this one provides a tingling feeling in his stomach. He disregards it as something that shows him he shouldn’t - doesn’t - want to kill the boy, and instead makes himself think it’s just anger welling up inside of him. It isn’t far from the truth, as he does feel irked, even irritated, but it isn’t quite him being on the edge of fury with just one wrong doing required to push him off it.

“I wonder if you’ve forgotten all about how you came onto the ship,” Ramsden says, his eyes squinting in Leo’s direction. “I have no reason to trust you, and yet I allowed you to live among us. But in all truth, killing me now wouldn’t do you any good. My crew is loyal to me, still, and they would end your life before you had the chance to escape. It makes me think, then, that you intended to gain their trust, and somehow, in the process, win me over so that when you reached for my gun, I wouldn’t notice it as much, and it would be easier to kill me. Because, Leo, you couldn’t get to my gun if you wanted to. I have a good eye, I’m fast, and I always see everything.” Ramsden doesn’t reveal everything, and he does it on purpose. One reason is because he doesn’t really have to, and the second is because he doesn’t want to. Maybe he doesn’t want to because he’s the captain, and being above everybody else comes naturally to him, or maybe he just doesn’t want to relive the memory of what happened all those years ago. Same difference.

Leo’s words are not something Ramsden could anticipate hearing. Nobody has ever before asked him anything similar, and it goes to show how different Leo indeed is from his previous victims. He thinks on it for a moment, but his mind is buzzing now, as it always does, before he kills anyone. Only this time, it may not be for quite the same reason. “I didn’t think you could be this forward.”

It’s a bold move and it’s something that Leo would never do if he didn’t already consider himself a dead man. But he reaches his hand up and places it on Ramsden’s chest, where he can feel the soft thudding of his heart. “There is. I can feel it and see it in you. I don’t know what happened to make you think you don’t have one left, but you do. I know somewhere down there you’re kind and good, but something happened to you, but whatever it is doesn’t change that you’re good at heart.” 

Leo has always found that prayers before death are usually used to resolve loose ends. To apologize for a wrong that was never fixed or to keep a promise that had gone unfulfilled. And the thing is, Leo has none of those. He’d kept his life as good and pure as he possibly could, and his only regret is something completely out of his own control. His only regret is not having been able to tell his mother goodbye, and that’s something no god or entity can help him do, now. 

“I have nothing to apologize to God for and no favors to ask of him either,” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of a way to phrase his last question. “But can I ask why? You’ve made up your mind to kill me, so I’m already dead. But why?” 

Again, what has kept him intrigued comes up again, only this time it settles flat against his chest, and he feels the warm press of Leo’s hand like a weight keeping him from being able to breathe in a normal, easy manner. It’s not something that bothers him too much, but rather just something that feels like a prickling sensation in his stomach. The last time he’s felt a similar touch was one that he’s received with force, roughness, the guy pinning him down in Ramsden’s cabin, the weight of his entire body right above Ramsden’s heart. Then, he really had trouble breathing. Leo’s action is something completely different, worlds away from what Ramsden’s used to.

“You’ve known me - on the surface only, mind you - for less than a month. What makes you think you can say something like that?” The question is more a dare than a proper question. He’s well aware of the fact that people can start spewing absurdities if they’ve been in the sun for a long enough time period. He’s been there himself. But these didn’t seem like words coming from a mad man. So he steps even closer, daring him with his physical presence too, looking down at him with pursed lips. Their bodies are touching too, in places other than Leo’s hand on Ramsden’s chest.

“You know the reason. Why should I bother saying it?” His voice is still as he speaks, without any rhythmical changes, or tonal changes. But still, even that says something. “And you’re nothing to me, either. I’m not obligated to explain anything to you.”

“It’s the good in people that keeps you looking nice,” He says, voice quiet. That’s what his mother had always told him, that as long as he kept a good heart he would stay beautiful for his whole life, even as he aged. That was a part of the reason he never found himself going after the attractive pirates when he’d lived in the waters, just because he didn’t see the reason to kill someone with a good heart. Maybe that’s why he let himself feel those moments of attraction to Ramsden, too. 

He’s less afraid now and more just resigned. He leans back against the wall and lets himself relax, tries to keep himself from feeling the fear or the sadness that comes with death. He doesn’t want to die, but maybe he’ll see his family again one day, maybe he’ll see Ramsden again one day, too. In another life. He reaches out and puts a hand on Ramsden’s, touching him one last time, even if it’s the last time. “That’s how I know you have a good heart in there, somewhere, when you want to show it.” 

Ramsden does have a pretty face. He’s the most handsome man Leo has ever laid eyes on and every part of him had hoped more than anything that he would get to have more time with him, if for nothing other than his own curiosities. His own firsts.

It’s an odd position to be in, to let himself be in, as he looks up at the captain. He even smiles, just the slightest upturn of the corners of his mouth, before he just waits. Waits for the pain to come, waits to be left here alone to die just like that old man had been. He wonders if that man had felt alone, if he wanted someone to stay with him, even as vile as he had been. Would Ramsden stay until he was gone? Or would he just run away and pretend that he’d never existed? 

Every time Leo speaks, Ramsden listens. Listens carefully. Only this time, he isn’t analysing his sentences or words, intonation or rhythm. He isn’t scrutinising what he says in order to determine whether the boy is up to something, planning a mutiny or the captain’s murder in his mind. He finds that Leo’s voice, if a bit unusual, maybe because of his accent - Ramsden’s always been good at reading people, figuring out where they came from just from the way they speak or move - is appealing to him in some way that he can’t fathom. He furrows at his words. He was expecting something different to come out of Leo’s mouth. Begging, pleading, imploring Ramsden to give him mercy. Maybe a prayer. He didn’t expect words that were never before used in such a situation.

He knows what Leo’s saying. Ramsden is apparently attractive to him as well. But of course. He’s felt it, before, when they were on the ship. The tension wasn’t only from what Ramsden would call fear of impending doom on Leo’s part and excitement on Ramsden’s. It makes a little bit more sense now, all of it, but this could just be another plot, another ploy. Ramsden doesn’t know what to think anymore.

“There isn’t a heart left here,” he says, his breath hitching at further contact. Seeing Leo covering his own, the boy’s hand smaller than his, makes him think of what used to be a regular practice those years ago. But it really is a fleeting thought, as it leaves his mind just as soon as it’s entered it. “Not anymore.” His hand falls to the boy’s shoulder, Leo’s hand still on his, and he grips his shoulder for a moment, only slightly. Lets himself have that. “I’m giving you one last chance for a prayer.”

Leo has no idea what he’s done that has made the man so angry. He’d thought things were fine in the days before, even if he was clearly uncomfortable with something. He hadn’t thought it was him. He’d even made somewhat almost friends with one or two of the other crew members on the ship, and neither of them had said anything. Maybe he’s not used to death, maybe he doesn’t want to see people die in cold blood. If that makes him not cut out to be a pirate, then so be it. 

But, he doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to live his life as a human away from his family alone forever, but he certainly doesn’t want to die. He’s not ready to die just yet, so he panics. He looks into Ramsden’s eyes once, and then down to his sword. In a moment of desperation, he bolts. 

If he has already been truly resigned to death, then he has no reason to stick around. If there’s no way, in the end, that he’ll be able to fulfill his mission, then he’d rather live some kind of life around the humans than die entirely. His legs have gotten stronger, but it’s still a stupid decision. He’s fast, but he has absolutely no idea where he’s going. It’s a bad combination of events, and tears start springing in his eyes as he runs. 

It isn’t until he runs down a long alleyway and comes to a brick wall at the end of it that his heart sinks in his chest. It’s dread that completely fills his entire mind and stomach as he realizes this is probably it - this is where Ramsden is going to actually kill him, just like he did that man in the bar. But at least he tried, he figures. 

At least he tried. 

“Okay,” He says, a few stray tears falling down his face. “Alright. Just do it, then, if you’re going to.” He’s scared, his hands shaking, and this time he doesn’t look. All he can hope now is that it’s fast, or at least somewhat painless. Hopefully. 

The almost piercing quality of Leo’s eyes is what ticks him in the end, though not really. It isn’t after Leo disappears from him that he feels like a dynamite stick, just waiting for the fuse to reach its end, spark him into an explosion. He watches at the wall now, the place where Leo was a moment ago, and clenches his fists, closing his eyes. He smirks, thinking to himself that now, he has but one more reason to get after him, finish whatever fun he had had with him before they came to this godforsaken town.

He follows him, merely walking a bit faster than he usually wood, his feet hitting the ground decisively, his coat swaying behind him. It’s not as hot as it was on the ship in the middle of the ocean, and he takes the breeze to mean something good. His rumination is finally going to stop, it seems, and when he walks into the alley he stops when he sees Leo, and that he can’t really go anywhere else. That’s it, then. The last encounter between them. Afterwards, he’s going to leave him there, let himself breathe just a tiny bit easier, let other people take care of his body.

His hand traces the hilt of his sword, and he leaves it to rest there. He’ll need it soon, anyway. “You’ve finally come to your senses, apparently. Too bad they’re not going to help you now,” Ramsden declares, and walks until he’s close to Leo, just like before. It’s become a habit for them to stand so close to each other, if only due to Ramsden’s own volition. But he removes his hand from the sword, lifts it to Leo’s face, to touch him one more time. It’s the last time he’ll touch skin so smooth. He must appreciate that for what it is. “It’s a shame. You’re still so pretty. Your face is so lovely. It gives the impression it could stay like this forever. Forever young,” he says, grazes his thumb over Leo’s cheekbone. He enjoys the touch, the possibility of what could happen - could have happened before all of this - mixing with his anger. “It really is a shame you’ll be a lifeless body in a minute’s time.”

The air outside is cold against his skin and it eases the churning in his stomach for a moment. He breathes in the fresh air, no longer surrounded by the smell of the drinks and rotting bread, and his head feels instantly clearer. Leaning back against the wall of the building, he closes his eyes just for a moment and tries to erase what just happened from his mind. 

It doesn’t work, of course. 

All he can think about is Ramsden stabbing that man for something as simple as saying a few mean words. Yes, they were terrible things to say, but in no way did they warrant death. His stomach twists with the feeling and he takes another deep breath to keep himself from keeling over and actually throwing up. All he can think of is that horrid moment of silence afterwards and the way not a single person in that room reacted. No one spared a second glance in their direction. 

He feels sick again when Ramsden makes his way out, and he still looks angry. Leo just wants to be away from him for one moment - one fleeting second so he can catch his thoughts - but it seems he won’t be getting a whole lot of want he wants, anymore. “I’m not trying to escape,” He starts, taking another deep breath. “I told you I’d be back, I just need a moment to breathe. A second to take in what happened, because I’m not sure if you noticed, but no one so much as batted an eye when that man died. You stabbed him and everyone just carried on with their little party as if nothing happened.” His voice gets progressively louder as he speaks, but he forces himself to reign it in, to control himself. 

“Not everything is about you or about wanting to get away from you. You said I’m yours now, and the rest of your men are allowed to walk freely but I can’t so much as step outside without you following me?” 

He watches the boy with a careful sort of manner, trying to pick apart at his words, find an underlying meaning somewhere in them, between them, anywhere, really. He wants to know if the boy has something planned, or if he’s trying to plan something. Ramsden won’t have another mutiny on his hands, not after ... not after that. He hasn’t even properly thought about what he would do if it started again, but really, he hasn’t gotten far - he’s decided a long time ago that he would never let it progress to that point. No matter who the mutineer was, even if it was Felix, he would take care of the person. His reputation was more important, his success the crux of everything.

“i don’t think you get to say anything right now,” Ramsden starts, poking his finger at Leo. “It’s become quite clear to me you’re not one of us. That ... situation back there has only proved it further. And I don’t mean one of us in the sense that you’re part of my crew. You’re not a pirate, not my pirate, not any pirate. I have no more desire to let you stand by my side, even if it was ever just for entertainment. Sweetheart, your days will be over sooner than you think.”

He takes another step closer and it takes him back to their first time in the cabin, after Ramsden had just found out about his presence on the ship. They were just as close then as they are right now, but that day, Ramsden appreciated the boy’s appearance, took intrigue in his features. Now, he can barely stomach them.

“You might not want to tick me any further,” he finishes, now pressing the tip of his finger into the boy’s chest. “I won’t be as nice as I was on the ship.”

Leo feels the tension raise in the room once again. He’s always been intuitive, good at sensing the way a mood can change in the room. It’s made him sensitive, at times, but it’s for the best at most times. He can usually sense when something bad is going to happen, and every red alert starts going off in his mind as soon as Ramsden turns around again. He gasps when the captain stabs the man, his eyes going wide as he covers his mouth with his hands. 

He’s seen death. He’s even killed a man himself, before. But he’s never seen anything like this, never seen someone die for arrogance, for an image, for doing something mildly annoying. It makes his stomach turn with nausea, makes his mind spin in a way he’s never experienced before. He’s almost sure he might throw up with the way his stomach is churning, and all he can do is reach up and wipe a few drops of blood from his cheek that had splattered over his face, hand trembling as he does. The way everyone just picks everything back up so quickly, goes back to dancing and singing and drinking without so much as a second thought of the dead man laying on the floor, it makes him feel sick. 

He’d never liked death. His people, every time they would take the life of a man, they would hold ceremonies. After each ship they took down, it was their way of thanking the world and the universe for their food, for keeping them alive even if it meant taking the life of another. He doesn’t answer the question, but instead he just stands up, legs shaking. “I’m going to go outside for a minute. I need some air. I’ll be back.” He swallows hard as he wobbles away slowly, his mind still trying to catch up to everything that just happened. 

The idea that Ramsden could truly be evil and heartless in such a way just doesn’t sit with him, doesn’t sit well with him, and he feels suffocated. He leans back against the wall outside of the tavern and tries to take a few deep breaths. 

“I still think you should kill him,” The quartermaster says to Ramsden once the boy is out of sight. “Looks like he’s gonna try and run off, anyway.”

He knows it’s all gone down rather fast, even if it didn’t seem like it to him. On a normal day, he would have taken his time, enjoyed it a little bit more. But still, whenever he made it quick in the past, he still felt satisfied with himself after it. Why isn’t he now? Some of his tension has gone away, yes, but he still feels it, that prickly feeling somewhere in his chest and in his stomach. The last couple of nights they were on the ship, it loomed over him like a dark cloud, just waiting for something to happen so that it could rain down on him.

The boy is affected by what has happened, it would seem, and Ramsden shakes his head, thinking to himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care. Not after what Felix has told him on the ship. They were in his cabin, Felix’s presence in it orchestrated as something other than what it really was. After that meeting, Ramsden tried keeping up appearances, but people noticed, or at least so he was told. Felix told him to take it easier, that he’ll keep watch on the boy, but Ramsden was reminded only all too well of past evens to take it easy.

Leo disappears then, and Ramsden gets stuck on his quartermaster’s words, almost crushes the bottle in his hand. He gets off his seat and walks after the boy, stepping over the dead body lying on the floor. He can’t see Leo anywhere, his vision clody at the edges. But he doesn’t let his victims go, except those he uses to spread the message or the warning of his presence somewhere, or of his impending presence, anyway.

He finds Leo then, and there aren’t any people around. Even if there were, he wouldn’t hesitate on pushing his sword through him. “You can’t run away,” he says, walking up to him and coming to a stop mere inches before the boy. “It’s really too bad, your situation. Nobody gets away with planning an escape from me. The consequences aren’t good.”

“Get off me,” Leo snarks when the man puts his hand back on his shoulder again. He’s uncomfortable, his head spinning with the way he’s still a little dizzy from the drinking, and the atmosphere around him it making it even more uncomfortable. The man doesn’t respond to him, but rather just turns back to Ramsden.

“I understand you just fine, kid,” The man says, his voice challenging in a way Leo couldn’t muster if he tried. It’s different, now, than how he and the Captain have bickered before, he’s condescending and rude where Leo tries to dance around pushing against boundaries, but never crossing them. “This ain’t your territory, you’re cocky little words don’t mean ‘nothing round here.” The man takes the bottle of rum from the table in front of the Captain and takes a drink from it, and Leo’s mouth falls open in shock. Even he can tell that that’s something taboo, something that someone should never do, and it makes his heart hammer in his chest. With the way Ramsden has been off the last few days, he can only imagine what’s going through his head, and it scares him. “But I get it, I get it. He’s yours,” The man snorts, “Maybe I can just watch you two fuck. Then I can take him for me self.” 

There’s something that happens in Ramsden’s body whenever he feels he’s been challenged. His body tenses in a way that only he can ever notice - even Felix never notices it - and his teeth become stuck together, clenched, his jaw twitching. He anticipates the rush of euphoria that washes over him when he knows what he’s going to do, when he decides what he’s going to do. except, this time it doesn’t come at all, and all he feels is anger, frustration and something else, except he can’t quite put his finger on it.

He turns his head towards Leo, sees him in a state he’s never really seen him in before. He’s scared, and so what? He deserves it for possibly plotting against him. The drink’s taken hold already, though not enough, and he turns his head the other way, towards Felix this time. The latter just looks at him for a second, but his eyes are warning Ramsden, maybe even pleading him to think about it first. Felix’s the only one who would ever dare even look at Ramsden in such a way. But the captain ignores him. Instead, he swirls around in his chair, and there’s a smirk present on his face. It’s a tiny one, but it’s there. The old man watches him, bearing his teeth in what’s supposed to be a smile, but really looks nothing like one.

“If this were a good day, I would feel just a tiny bit sad that you just wouldn’t do as I demanded.” It’s the only thing he says, loud enough for the man to understand, as well as Felix and Leo, and with a quick hand he pulls out his dagger out of its sheath, diving it deep into the man’s neck. He doesn’t care for bystanders, and a moment or two after it happens, after the man starts blubbering and spitting out blood, he falls to the ground with a loud thump. The music stops then, and there’s only faint tinkling of bottles and cutlery before a dead silence washes over the tavern. He pulls the dagger out of the man’s neck, sliding it against his pants, clearing off the remnants of blood. Putting it back inside the sheath, he smiles, throws his arms up and yells: “Now it’s a ball!” The noise starts back up again, and he turns around to check on the two boys. Felix’s just sitting there, downing the rest of his bottle, eyes screwed shut. “You believe me now, lad?” he says, aiming the question at Leo as he sits back down.

Leo can only watch Ramsden curiously. His entire demeanor has been off for over a day now, and it’s only managed to throw him off, too. A small part of him had almost started to enjoy the thrill of being around the captain over the few days he’d gotten the chance to, with their still near constant bantering and the teasing in return that was exactly on his level. Hed never met someone who could tease him back as easily as ramsden did, and it made him addicting in a way to be around. A part of Leo was slowly, even if he almost didnt want to admit it, starting to enjoy the life that being on the ship brought. Even if he was locked in a box in the night, what they got up to during the day was more than enough reprieve. He takes another few drinks of the liquid in front of him after Ramsden tells him to, a piece of him almost feeling guilty for saying its gross out loud, even if it is.

It’s not long before he starts feeling dizzy and loose, like he wants to climb into Ramsdens lap and tell him his nose is too long for his slender face. But instead, his thoughts are again interrupted by another person. “Awh, captain, that’s not what you was sayin’ the last time you was round these parts. Beggin’ for any blokes cock up yer arse, yeah? Think it’s my turn.” The man grins, and its vile. Almost all of his teeth are gone, and those that remain are a gross brown and yellow color. “Or if not you bent over my booth, maybe I’ll take this little princess.” The hand moves over to Leo’s shoulder, then, and he jerks away, moving closer to his captain.

Hearing the man speak makes Ramsden tick. He stays calm, his eyes trained on the drink in front of him. Repeating after Leo, he drinks some more of it, already starting to feel warm and hazy around the edges. Not too much, but enough not to be as vexed at the man’s words anymore. And he hasn’t eaten much lately, so of course the effect took hold quickly.

He turns in his seat, his elbow propped against the hard wooden counter. “Darling, that was so long ago I thought old fools like you would have forgotten all about it. Before I get back to my drink and put our little encounter out of my mind, though, I’m only going to ask you nicely once to find somebody else to bother. My standards have gone up, unfortunately for you. I wouldn’t beg for your cock if it was the last one on earth,” he says, and turns back again. The man’s hand seems to disappear from his shoulder and Ramsden feels satisfied, but that all disappears just as soon as it’s come, too. Hearing the man’s further words, he only takes another sip of rum and fixes his hat, turning his head enough so that the mean hears him speak again. “You will not be taking him, or taking him anywhere. I don’t think you’ve understood me well enough. I’ll tell you only once. Leave.”

Leo doesn’t have time to respond before there’s a bottle of some amber colored liquid being put down in front of him. He wants to ask what the captain means, with the way everyone around them seems to be having fun, but both of their attention is stolen away, so he doesn’t bother. He imagines this is what Ramsden meant when he said drinking - and he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, even if it is new and strange. The bread is familiar, that having been mostly what they ate while on the ship it seemed, but the smell in the room was enough to turn him off of food. He watches as the quartermaster knocks a bottle of his own back, taking a big drink from the bottle before putting it back on the counter in front of him. “Thank you,” He says softly towards the captain, trying to give him a soft smile, but it’s hard when he can tell that his mood is still so thrown off. Looking around, he can see that nearly everyone else inside of the building is doing something similar, so he doesn’t waste any time before he takes a small drink of his own, in attempt to blend in. It doesn’t last long, though. He sputters a bit, coughing with a grimace on his face as the burning feeling travels all the way down his throat and down to his stomach. “That’s disgusting, ouch, what the hell?” A brief flurry of panic swells up inside of his stomach as he considers that it could be poisoned when he realizes that no one else around him seems to be having such a strong reaction to their own drinks. But he thinks the captain would be more clever than making something so obviously poison, if it is. 

Unrelenting, Ramsden urges on: “Just drink it.” He receives his meal and dives into it, stuffing his mouth with the food he’s been craving for so long. God, it feels good to bless his stomach with something other than fruit and other stale foods. He takes a sip of rum and then another, appreciating its vastly different taste compared to the barrels they had stored on the ship. Maybe they’ll raid this tavern, who knows. His attention is grabbed by the boy next to him again, clearly not as accepting towards the same luxuries as Ramsden is. He watches him, takes the bottle away from him and takes a sip from it. He notices the taste, sees it’s the same rum as he himself has, and puts it back in front of Leo. “It’s fine. Drink up.” It’s then that he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder, and as he turns he sees Felix flare up next to him. He shakes his head at him and the quartermaster calms down but stays alert, his back straightened, his hand near his pistol. Ramsden sees a man of hideous appearance standing close to him, his arm stretched out, touching Ramsden’s shoulder. “Fuck off, why don’t you,” Ramsden mumbles before turning back towards the counter, diverting his attention back to the meal. He sees Leo shift in his seat some more, and only scoffs.

It’s almost disappointing to hear of the far too human antics that the crew gets up to when they dock, Leo thinks. He’d hoped there would be something excited, something that would wake him up and make him feel like he isn’t just playing a waiting game. Though, he can’t exactly pin point what he thinks he’d been expecting. A town raid, perhaps? He’s not sure. So, he tries to twist his perspective, tries to make it out to be a bit more positive than he can imagine it being. However, never having indulged in any of the things that Ramsden talks about, he can’t help but wonder what it’s like. Humans live in such a different way than he’s ever encountered, and a part of him is excited to get to experience something new. He follows Ramsden, his own gait closer to a jog than the walk that the taller men keep up. The empty tone that the captain uses in response to him only serves to make him even less excited to dock, but he tries his best to focus on the small things, to focus on things that might make him happy if nothing else. The three of them walk into a building that smells like sweat and rotting bread as soon as they enter, but it’s loud and booming with energy, men everywhere he looks, with music being played from the back. It sends a spark of excitement through his chest, makes his heart pick up pace, and he actually smiles. “Is this a tavern? This is insane.” He asks, inching a bit closer to the captain. He’s not sure if he’s doing it to protect himself or just because he’s a bit overwhelmed with it all, but he finds the closeness comforting.

He doesn’t feel overwhelmed, far from it, but he does feel uneasy. And he’s sure his quartermaster can feel it, as he’s always known him best. They both know each other like the backs of their hands, and whenever one of them isn’t as happy and relaxed as the other would like him to be, the other notices. Always. without a fail. So he’s happy that when they enter the tavern it’s so loud he can fall in rhythm with the vibe and behave differently. He throws up his arms, smiles for the first time in days, and slaps Felix on the back. He doesn’t say anything in response to Leo, only when the three of them walk over to the counter does he turn his head towards him, look him up and down, and say, almost through clenched teeth: “You might not like what you see here.” He turns away from him, beckons to the person serving drinks and orders a bottle of rum with a piece of bread and a chunk of some unknown meat straight away. He’s been going to these places long enough that he’s grown accustomed to the strength of the alcohol and the sour taste of the bread. Now, he cares about it even less. “One more bottle for the boy,” he continues, an idea popping into his mind. Maybe, if he gets him drunk, he’ll be able to find out what the boy has planned.