Flotsam + Jetsam
@cpt-jameshook
The terrible Captain Hook, master of the Jolly Roger, scourge of Neverland. Quite a story. Not an unpopular one, either, so far as Théo could see. Had a starring role in that saccharine little film, and a persistent play. Not that either were true to life. (Or whatever it was they had, as Fables.) But that hardly mattered; believing, even with a few details out of place, was believing. And when it came to belief, even the richest Fable was a beggar, not a chooser. It wasn’t as if any of them could walk about making new stories for themselves, not here. There were no giants to slay, no kingdoms to conquer, no dragon hoards to steal. Just Fabletown. In Fabletown, New York, James Hook was the master of The Crusty Lemon and not much more.
Still, somehow, he’d managed to keep that fearsome reputation sailing. All it took was a glare, the shine of the barlights along that nasty hook. Very intimidating. Only, Théo knew better - than to cause trouble, or believe any story or show so easily. He’d had a glimpse of what was lurking around in the Captain’s depths the first time Hook passed through The Lucky Pawn. James had found his way through all the trinkets and odds to a ship’s bell, all lovely, gleaming brass and salt-soaked wood. There, there, breaking the surface for just a moment: only a man. A lonely, miserable one at that. What was a captain without a crew or a ship to his name? Conveniently for Théo, James was willing to pay, and well, for the privilege of revisiting those days long lost. This little arrangement of theirs - Hook getting first look at any nautical curios abandoned to The Lucky Pawn - had stood for centuries, now. While The Crusty Lemon was far from Théo’s usual cup of tea, or rum as the case might be, he’d become fondly familiar of the place. As close as he’d come to being a cabin cat. Sidling silently up to the bar, Théo took an elegant lean on the counter, reaching into the soft leather satchel at his side. “Evening, Captain. Might I trouble you for my usual, and...” he set a neatly wrapped package on the scarred hardwood, as mysterious as that feline smile. "A few moments of your time?”
