#cap's writing

“Let’s split up,” Sabo says suddenly, when they once again come onto a main road. “If he’s running around, then we’ll have more of a chance to run into him if we go in opposite directions.”

“Okay. Let’s do that. I’ll go left,” Ace points his pipe down the road curling into Edge Town, “and you go right.”

Something apprehensive twitches onto Sabo’s face. “Ace – ”

“I’ll go left,” Ace repeats through gritted teeth. “And you go right. We’ll see each other in two hours at the base. If he's not here, he might be there."

A moment longer of conflict whirling behind Sabo’s eyes, and then he sighs. “Fine. But don’t do anything stupid.”

Anger twitches at Ace’s brow and he scowls. “I’m not dumb, Sabo. We’re looking for Luffy.”

“I didn’t mean – ”

“I’ll see you at the tree house,” Ace raises his voice over Sabo’s and briskly runs the other way.

It smarts, that his best friend, his brother, would think of him like that, as if Ace would risk his brothers’ lives, their safety, for a stupid fight. It hurts even more to know why Sabo thinks so, and that he can’t ever set it right.

Ace doesn’t dwell on it.

X

Where Mid Town has even pavers, some less kept but still pretty good, Edge town is a mess of cobblestones and broken tiles. It’s a pain to run on, always at risk of twisting an ankle, but Ace has traversed the shadier parts of Edge Town often enough to know how to get through it without injury. First he'll search the streets he’s most familiar with, then he’ll move onto alleys and the most dangerous parts of the town, but Ace hopes fiercely he won’t find Luffy there, and quickly shuts down the horrifying possibilities that spring to mind of what could’ve happened if Luffy did wander into those.

“Luffy!” he calls, more of a hiss, because he’s trying to be quiet. The last thing he wants is to draw drunkards’ ire, doesn’t want to be hindered in his increasingly desperate search for their little brother.

Ace turns right, onto a familiar road, one he’s crossed a dozen times before, since the age of seven, since his talk with his grandfather, and his heart stutters when he sees a familiar figure standing in the middle of it. Yellow light from an open bar door falls across Luffy’s lone figure, shadows even darker at its edges, almost as if they’re waiting to swallow Luffy whole. There’s a glare set like stone on Luffy’s face. It’s unfamiliar, because Luffy has never looked so enraged. He’s dripping wet, hair and clothes doused, and the familiar, bitter smell of beer wafts down the street. It takes Ace a moment to identify the shimmers on Luffy as glass shards, and when he looks closer, he can see scrapes all over Luffy’s face and arms. Some of them are bleeding.

There’s few times Ace has felt rage coil as tight as it has now, but it winds and winds and Ace’s pipe creaks under the strength of his fingers.

“Take it back,” Luffy says, fierce and steady, and it makes Ace pause. He has never heard Luffy sound like that before.

Someone laughs. A deep voice cut by raspy breaths. Ace can’t see him, but then there’s a large shadow that gets cast over Luffy, and a man Ace recognizes leans out.

“What do you want me to take back?” he sneers mockingly. “That it’s good the Pirate King’s blood has been wiped off the earth? Or that any spawn he had deserves to be boiled to death?”

Huh?

What?

“All of it,” Luffy growls – growls, and it sounds so close to Ace when he’s angry that it scares him.

The man laughs again. “Why should I? A runt like you comes in here and tells us to shut up, you think you can take us on, is that it? We’re just telling the truth!” Cheers and jeers come from behind him. “Get lost, pipsqueak. You’re not the only Roger fan around these parts that we’ve taken care of.”

“Not until you take it back!” Luffy yells.

Is Luffy really – ?

"I’ve had about enough of you. The Pirate King’s a piece of trash who deserves to rot in the ground. Anyone who shares his blood should be ashamed of being alive and do us all a favor and drown themselves. If you don’t like hearing it, go home crying to mommy about it, and do it quick, ‘cause my charitable mood ain’t holding out.”

Is Luffy trying to defend Ace?

And then Luffy scowls, curls his lip back, and spits: “You’re a dickface.” And Ace wishes for the first time that his own mouth wasn’t so foul, and that Luffy didn’t copy everything he does, because that’s something straight out of Ace’s vocabulary.

Red splotches of anger mix with the pink tint of inebriation. Ace sees it coming before the man even reaches for his gun. Blood roars in his ears as he makes a mad dash forward, draws his pipe back as far as he can to gain as much force and momentum as possible, and bashes the man’s face in with a well-timed jump and well-practiced swing. The man goes flying back into the bar, crashing into tables and breaking through the wood, several people crushed under him or knocked over. Luffy’s eyes are wide and surprised, lips moving to form Ace’s name, but Ace can already see the rage drawing across the bar-goers, knows things won’t end well – they didn’t the last time something like this happened – so he takes Luffy’s hand and makes a break for it.

Ace knows intimately which corners to turn, which roads to take and walls to climb, to get away from angry drunkards as fast as possible. He never lets go of Luffy’s hand.

“A – Ace!” Luffy calls, stumbling over his feet, but Ace hauls him up before he can fall.

“Keep up, Luffy!”

They’re out of breath by the time they slow down, crossed straight through Edge Town and the Terminal, the forest welcoming them with hushed greens and fresh, cold, night air. The forest is bright where the town is dark, the moon and stars’ light able to filter through.

Ace doesn’t say anything. Not even when Luffy’s panting breaths start hitching and he presses his lips together in a tell-tale sign that he’s trying his best not to cry. Instead, he takes Luffy’s hand again, far gentler this time, and guides him through the forest.

“I’m sorry,” Luffy sniffles after a few minutes. “They were saying mean things about Ace, and I…”

“Shut up, Luffy,” Ace says without any heat, but his little brother doesn’t speak anymore, after that.

They stop by a small river that runs clean through the middle of Mt. Corvo. They learned long ago – only a few months, but it feels like years, the time they’ve spent together – that not letting a Devil Fruit user drown all comes down to the tightness of your grip and your ability to swim. The part they chose is shallow, but Ace makes sure to hold his brother tight as he dunks him fully into the coiling, cold water.

It takes a while longer to pick all the tiny glass shards out of Luffy’s hair. Luffy's clothes are wet instead of soaking by the time Ace gets the last one out. Luffy doesn't shiver. He doesn't whine.

Ace isn't sure why that bothers him.

X

The walk should have calmed him down, that’s what walks are supposed to do, but Luffy keeps sniffling, and his heart won’t stop hammering, blood won’t stop ringing in his ears, and by the time they reach the treehouse, the only thing the walk has cleared is his anger and instead replaced it with the dread and fear he’d tried to ignore, and there’s a queasiness taking hold of his limbs because Luffy almost died. He almost died because of something as stupid as defending Ace.

And nothing, nothing, could have ever set that right.

He lets Luffy climb the ladder first. He never does that, usually a scuffle and a dash to see who gets to go first, but Luffy doesn’t question him, instead climbs the way up without a word.

Ace won’t, can't, let Luffy out his sight. At least not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, either.

When his head peeks through the latch, only a few moments after Luffy’s gone inside, he sees Luffy huddled by their beds, turned away, and it’s obvious he’s crying, but he’s still not making a sound. It hurts – because it’s all on Ace.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to cross the room and wrap Luffy in a hug, but that’s what he does. He sits down next to Luffy and draws him close, tucks Luffy’s head under his chin, and maybe it’s to ease his own mind, that he wants to hold his brother close, but the relief that Luffy’s still alive crashes into him like a flood and leaves him feeling boneless and, embarrassingly, wanting to cry along with Luffy.

“I’m sorry, Ace,” Luffy whimpers again. “I got lost, ‘n I was looking for you, but then these guys were saying mean things about you, and I was so angry… Are you mad at me, Ace…?”

And Ace can’t -

He’s only seen these things from afar, the movements foreign to him, but he cups Luffy’s head in his hand and places a kiss on his forehead. Luffy stills against him. Ace carefully places another, softer kiss, to Luffy’s temple, and with a sniffle, Luffy relaxes and nuzzles his head against Ace’s hand. Ace's heart swells, his chest feels ready to burst with warmth and guilt and how indescribably happy he is that Luffy is still there. His other hand comes up to cup the other side of Luffy's face, and Ace presses a kiss to his little brother’s cheek, then to the other, and then another kiss, and another, and another, and soon it feels almost desperate, like Ace needs this, needs to do this. And Luffy lets him. His tears have stopped, the tracks have dried, his hands are buried in Ace’s shirt.

There’s no words Ace can say, no words he can think of, so all he can do is hold his little brother as close as he can and hope Luffy understands.

X

Luffy falls asleep not long after, curled up against Ace still, Ace’s arms wrapped securely around him. Immediately after Luffy’s breathing evens out, there’s a creak of the floorboards, and Ace tenses, but relaxes just as quickly when he sees Sabo’s standing by the latch.

“Hey,” Ace greets and winces at how rough his voice sounds. “Have you been here long?”

“Long enough,” Sabo says. He looks a little lost, but Ace can’t figure out why. “What happened?”

“Scum from Edge Town. Luffy picked a fight with them. Got there just in time, so I took him straight here. Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Sabo replies easily and seats himself on Luffy’s bed, the middle one of the three futons lined close together. His eyes run over Luffy, over Ace, too, and Ace has to fight off any embarrassment.

“What?” he mumbles.

It takes Sabo a moment to respond, and when he does, it sound like he’s struggling, but Ace doesn’t know if it’s that he’s struggling to say it at all or struggling to find the words. “I’m sorry. About before. I didn’t mean to imply…”

“It’s fine.”

“Ace…”

“Really, Sabo. It’s fine. I get it. I don’t care.”

Sabo looks conflicted, a small frown tugging at his brows, but he lets it go nonetheless, and Ace is grateful for that, at least.

Silence settles over them. It's not a comfortable one, but it's certainly not uncomfortable, either. Even at night, the forest is alive, and leaves rustle gently next to them, their treehouse nestled so high in the tallest tree they could find. The day slowly catches up to them, and soon Ace, and then Sabo, yawns.

“It’s late,” Sabo says in a bit of a mumble. “We should go to bed.”

“Yeah.” Ace nods slowly, and tries to maneuver without dislodging Luffy. It's harder than he thought it'd be, and he has to shift back up to get into a better position.

“Ace.”

Ace hums at the call of his name and looks at his brother, and he stills.

There’s a mischievous, teasing grin on Sabo’s face that never spells anything good for Ace, because his brother is a schemer and likes to press all the right buttons to make Ace feel embarrassed. He leans in, presenting his cheek and tapping a finger against it, and he cheekily asks: “Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?”

Ace’s face flushes red. So Sabo had seen –

“Piss off,” he grumbles, looking away.

Sabo snickers, the bastard.

“That’s too bad,” he says, and, oh, Ace hates the gleefulness that’s seeped into that tone. “Guess I’ll have to do without a kiss.”

He sighs, faking deep, weary disappointment, but there’s no hiding the mirth dancing in his bright eyes.

Ace won’t let him have this one.

He leans in quick and gives Sabo’s cheek a rough peck.

“There’s your goodnight kiss. Sleep tight, asshole.”

But his brother doesn’t respond, and when Ace looks again, he notes with victorious delight that he’s frozen in place, hand half-way to his cheek, and he’s turned far redder than Ace ever will.

It’s Ace’s turn to snicker.

“Good night, ‘Bo,” he says sweetly, and lies down on his side, Luffy still in his arms. He steals one last glance at Sabo, whose mouth is moving like a fish’s on dry land, and he closes his eyes while he tries to suppress a laugh.

It’s a few minutes later that Sabo settles next to them, and for the first time that day, Ace can truly relax.

"Ah-ha, ha-ha-ha, ah, s - sorry to - " he fumbled for words " - intrude on your - er - your domain?" He hoped he wasn't making any mistakes. He didn't know much about location-bound gods, didn't know preferred terms, how to be courteous, how to not piss them off so bad they threw you into the Void Century. "I didn't mean to, so, I'll, uh, I'll be going now goodbye."

His valiant escape was halted by booming laughter. The ground shook under his feet, and Usopp had to hold onto a stray stalactite so he wouldn't fall flat on his face.

"You're funny!" A giant finger hooked under Usopp's collar and lifted him off the ground, as if he weighed nothing more than a pebble, if he weighed anything at all. "Stay!" He plopped Usopp back down in front of him. Usopp could only stare and try not to cry as the giant god took his last hope of escape. "Tell me your name."

For a moment, all he could produce were puffed breaths of fear. He willed his brain to boot back up, to let him remember what to do in situations like this - remember the warnings his mother gave him, once upon a time, but it crackled like static instead.

The god hummed, brows furrowing, and Usopp scrambled to answer.

"Usopp!" he squeaked, and shrank back as the god's eyes lit up. "I'm Usopp. Brave - er... Adventurer of the seas..."

"Adventurer?" the god echoed, voice curious. At least, Usopp thought it was. Laughter coated every dip of the god's tone, mirth stuck to his very being like resin.

Suddenly, the god sighed, long and drawn-out and high-pitched, almost petulant. "I wish I could go on adventures."

Usopp’s heart twisted, despite himself. Longing rang clear as day, and it resonated deeply within Usopp. He remembered being a child, feeling shackled to his home, a place that had nothing left for him. His mother dead, his best friend gone. A life of nothing ahead of him, floating uselessly, without purpose or joy, from day to day. 

He remembered the wrenching sadness that accompanied him before he set out, and this god would never even get a chance to explore.

And he was alone.

Usopp swallowed thickly. Warnings beat against the back of his head, telling him to stay still, stay silent, but he ventured a question, anyway. “You… like adventures?”

The beaming smile was strangely warm, and some fear – against better judgement – melted out of Usopp. “I love adventures! I want to go on lots and lots and lots!” He pouted, head falling against his palm. “But my brothers won’t let me go. Meanies.”

Hold on. That – couldn’t be right. Location-bound gods didn’t have siblings. They were borne from – whatever qualifiers were necessary for a place to produce a god, but they were always a solitary existence. This god couldn’t have any brothers, and they couldn’t stop him from going out if he couldn’t leave this cave in the first place.

Unless, maybe, this wasn’t a cave god at all.

Hope gave a jerk in Usopp’s chest, but withered almost instantly. It was impossible to know, unless Usopp asked the god’s name, and that was a cardinal no-no when dealing with gods.

There were no other options, however. If he knew the god’s name, if he’d heard it somewhere before – and most free gods were known entities, elders always drilled stories into children’s heads – maybe he’d know how to deal with him. Maybe he’d have a chance of escape.

“What’s…” Usopp tried to tread carefully, however much he could. Gods were fickle, and easy to offend, and none were quite the same. They might like you one moment and smite you the next. And names, especially, were tricky, tricky things.

He licked his lips and braced himself. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Luffy!”

The easy answer threw him for a loop, but he barely had time to process before the god was suddenly a whirlwind, a small tornado in the middle of the cave, though he could feel no wind, and then, where a giant had been a moment before, stood a god similar to Usopp in stature.

Divinity still dripped off the god like honey and dew. No one would mistake him for a mortal, however small he would make himself.

The god – Luffy, and Usopp’s heart dropped at the unfamiliarity of the name – bounced on his heels. “You look different,” he said, as if Usopp was the one who’d changed height. Luffy jumped, floating once more, and circled consideringly around Usopp, who stiffened, going ramrod straight.

“You’re taller!” the god said. Bewildered by the almost accusing tone, Usopp’s common sense didn’t stop him from saying: “You’re smaller.”

Luffy blinked at him. And then he fell back and laughed, hand covering his face. The cave shook along with the hiccups and guffaws, but strangely Usopp didn’t feel even the slightest tremble.

“It’s been so long since a mortal talked back to me,” Luffy chirped. He popped in close, almost nose to nose, and Usopp stumbled back with a startled yelp.

“Join my crew!”

Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer ridiculousness of the question – though somehow it didn’t feel like a question at all.

“You’re fun,” Luffy said as he circled behind Usopp. Limbs stretched far beyond normal boundaries and began wrapping, coiling, around Usopp’s arms and legs. The god’s chest fit flush against his back. There was no warmth, no body heat to speak of, but neither was there cold. There was weight but there was nothing. The phantom feeling sent goosebumps across Usopp’s spine.

“We could have fun together,” Luffy continued. “Explore stuff. Go on adventures. See the world!”

“Are – aren’t you – a cave god?”

Usopp remained stiff, standing stock-still, or as still as he could with a god manipulating his limbs.  

“Pffft! No, I’m not! That’s stupid.”

“But – ” Usopp stuttered. His sense of self-preservation must’ve flown out the window somewhere along the course of this conversation, because he couldn’t believe he was arguing with a god. “But your name – ”

“Is my name?”

Offense stirred at the tone – a very clear are you dumb? – but the remaining fear kept it mellow.

Luffy hummed, sandals tapping against Usopp’s thighs, and he rocked back and forth briefly. “Welll, they also call me Nika, sometimes.”

Usopp choked. “Ni – Ni – ” His heart hammered in his chest, tongue tying around itself. “Nika? God of – ”

A small ‘eep!’ escaped him, then, and he wanted to bend down into a bow, but it was impossible to move with the god wrapped around him like a python. Luffy – Nika – laughed boisterously at his jerky movement, holding on tighter.

“Offering – ” Usopp wheezed out.

Nika whined. “No offering! You’re fun, don’t be all boring now! Besides, you’re part of my crew, you don’t need to offer anything!”

Usopp didn’t remember accepting to join the crew – but he supposed that didn’t matter. A god’s wish was a god’s will, and mortals were bound to follow.

“What – what about your brothers?” Usopp tried. “They won’t let you – will they be happy with – with you having a crew?”

Nika waved a dismissive hand from where it curled around Usopp’s arm. “It’s fine, they won’t smite you.”

It hadn’t even occurred to him that was a possibility. If they found out their brother recruited a mortal for a crew they didn’t want him having, no explanation would be enough to save Usopp’s life.

“But,” Nika said, hand twisting further, creeping towards Usopp’s wrist. “If you’re worried.”

A sharp burn, started in his inner wrist and spread throughout his body and reached deep within, made Usopp bite his teeth in an attempt to not cry out in pain. It was both endless and quick, and faded as fast as it’d come.

“There!” Nika announced as he pulled back his hand. Proud, uncaring, even as Usopp’s world fell away under his feet and his ears rang loudly. “Now they’ll know you’re mine.”

Shanks shrugged, idly turning the glass round in place. It dragged slightly, wood likely wet at its bottom.

His captain was stubborn, and an idiot, and Benn loved him, but Shanks’ occasional bouts of stoic captaincy were something he could do without. Shanks wasn’t complicated, once you knew how to look and what to look for, but sometimes Benn suspected Shanks thought he was – and maybe that was true, but not for Benn; he knew Shanks withdrew when something bothered him. It would take a few well-placed prods to get his captain to unload. So Benn set the table.

“He was out of line.”

“It’s his ship.” There was a tense twitch to Shanks’ jaw, despite the evenness of his tone.

“It is.”

A beat of silence.

“I don’t follow a child,” Benn said. “A brat, maybe – ”

“Hey – ”

“But not a child.” He let the weight of his words settle onto his captain. “He shouldn’t treat you as one.” Shank’s brows drew together, lips pursing slightly in a way Benn knew meant a dismissal, so he added: “It bothers me that he does.”

Shanks stopped. Blinked. “It does?”

“Of course it does. It bothers all of us. You’re our captain. We follow you for a reason and we don’t like it when someone dismisses that.”

“Wait, seriously? All of you?”

Amusement twitched at Benn and he huffed, indulgent. “Yes. All of us. We’re angry, too, captain, so don’t try to look cool now.”

It’s silent for a long moment. The candle’s flame flickered lazily between them, shadows dancing across their features. Benn finished the last of his whiskey.

Then, Shanks sagged in his seat, body trading tension for frustration, and he downed his whiskey.

“He’s so annoying!”

Benn smiled. “Very.”

“He let his title get to his head! Sure, 'strongest man in the world', but definitely not the smartest. He hasn’t had a sensible thought since he turned sixty!”

Benn poured himself another glass, then did the same for Shanks, who didn’t look up at the familiar motion.

“It's not even that he still sees me as nothing more than Roger's cabin boy that bothers me - I mean, it does bother me, I worked hard for my title! I worked hard to earn their respect! Even Garp respects me. Garp!”

Benn hummed. “He’s got an odd way of showing it.”

“Yeah, well, Garp’s odd all around. But I know the crazy bastard well enough to know how he shows respect. He was the same with Captain. He hasn’t talked down to me once, and okay, he calls me ‘brat’, and I’m pretty sure he hates my guts, but I know he at least respects me, or if not me, my achievements and the fact that I’m a Yonko. Old Eddy, though? Stuck in the past. Hasn’t thought of respecting a powerful ally even once.”

Shanks sighed. He took a sip of his drink.

“But that’s not even what bothers me the most. Sure, he should know I’m not a kid and he should treat me as an equal, like I do with him – I don’t treat him like a sick, old man, even though he is.”

Benn huffed a laugh. Bringing his glass back up, he said: “But the worst of it is?”

“The worst of it is that this was about Ace.”

He stilled before the cool glass could reach his lips. He set it back down, any amusement at Shanks’ ranting drained, replaced by the same itching annoyance and anger he’d felt on Whitebeard’s ship.

Shanks’ expression was a mix frustration and upset.

“Even if he thinks of me as nothing more than a brat,” Shanks said, “this was about Ace; about his safety. And he brushed me aside. Told me not to mix in his business, that it’s a ‘private matter’.” Shanks scowled. “It’s so– so– ”

“Infuriating,” Benn offered. He felt the exact same way.

“Incredibly.” Shanks sighed. “Ace is a good kid. And he's strong, but he's got Anchor's stubbornness and the self-preservation of a teenager, and Blackbeard doesn't mess around. He's dangerous and I don't think Ace really knows it. I'm...”

He fiddled with his glass.

“Worried,” Benn filled in softly, earning a nod. “I am, too. None of us want anything to happen to the kid.”

Shanks scoffed. “You’d think Newgate would share the sentiment.”

You would, Benn mused with the beginnings of disdain, if you cared. He wasn’t one to be presumptuous – he didn’t know the ins and outs of Whitebeard’s thoughts and feelings, he could only observe how they translated into actions. And Benn couldn’t say he was pleased. To treat Shanks as a child was one thing – one unforgivable, demeaning thing – but to treat so carelessly the well-being of someone who, by many standards, actually was one was something Benn couldn’t excuse. Not when said kid meant so much to his captain. To Anchor. To the crew, by extension.

They’d asked for caution and were denied. Patronized. Their opinion didn’t factor into Whitebeard’s decision at all, he hadn’t even considered their warnings.

Well, the sly, vengeful part of Benn spoke with a croon, why should you consider their word if they won’t yours?

And Benn agreed. The shouldn't consider it at all.

“We’re not Whitebeard pirates."

“No-duh,” Shanks said. “And thank the seas – ”

“So we don’t have to do anything Newgate says.”

Shanks stilled. Eyes snapped up to meet Benn’s, lights previously muted now dancing brightly in them again. Something loosened in Benn’s chest.

“He might’ve told us to stay out of it…”

A large grin curled onto Shanks’ lips and he sat upright fully. “But he’s not our captain. We don’t have to mind what he thinks.”

The spark of excitement fanned into a flame and sprung over to Benn, who met the grin with his own. “So, if you wanted to, we could.”

“You think the crew would agree?”

Benn gave him a flat look. “We’ve followed you into the craziest of situations for the most benign of reasons. And all of us like the kid.”

“Is that a yes?” Shanks asked cheekily.

Benn huffed a laugh. His captain might not be a child, but he was a brat. They wouldn’t trade him for the world. “That’s a yes.”

Even if it wasn’t, even if not the whole crew agreed, they’d do it. Shanks was a fair captain, but he was their captain nonetheless, and Benn wouldn’t tolerate any push-back or whining about the plans he laid out for them.

“Let’s do it, then! Newgate might not take care of his own if they’re wild rookies, but we sure as hell do.”

Shanks took the pencil from its case, pulled a map labeled ‘Paradise’ out of its barrel, and rolled it out between them. He hovered the lead over it, dragging it from one end to another as his eyes jumped across the names, until settling on one. He circled a group of islands.

“Last we heard, Blackbeard caused destruction on Guiro Island. That was a week ago, and chances are high Ace heard of it, too. Our best shot at finding him will probably be in its immediate area.”

“If he’s passed by already, there’s more information to be gathered on the surrounding islands,” Benn added with a nod. It was the best course of action. “I’ll tell Snake to set a new course.”

There’s a renewed vigor to Shanks, movements light and eyes bright, the heaviness that wore him down gone completely. He has a new goal to keep him occupied. Something tangible he can do.

And Benn will follow him, as he always does.

“Snake’s gonna have a fit,” Shanks said, a tad too gleeful at the prospect of annoying their navigator. Or perhaps it was simply the relief of having made the decision. It was impossible to tell.

“No, he won’t. He’ll say “Finally” and turn the ship whichever way we need immediately.”

Shanks hummed. “Bet you fifty belli he won’t.”

Not two hours ago, in a situation reminiscent of this one, Benn had listened to Snake rave about child safety and careless parenting, complain about not having a set destination nor having even a hint of a direction yet, though the two were obviously directly connected.

Having more information wasn’t cheating – and even so, betting was never fair. Benn quite liked his odds.

He grinned. “A hundred and we’ll call it a deal.”