Apart from Sky, the members of the Sky Pirates come as followed; Henry, Jonny, and Francoise. Both Bloody Henry and Blackbeard were wanted men that Paul never even wanted to interact with past locking them up in a cell, but alas, whether it be fate or forced misfortune, he too has ended up stuck with the two scheming devils.

Surprisingly enough though, despite both of them posing threats to his life at times, the most awkward obstacle to approach was always Jonny. Most say he’s the muscle of the crew, an extra arm attached to Sky’s body, or even the dog of the group, yet with easygoing connotations like that, Paul had only ever felt uncomfortable whenever left alone with the brute. If he is a dog, then he’s a guard dog that acts like he’s always being held back from committing a murder. To make up for it, he barks for hours on end, or glares coldly at you. In Paul’s case, anyhow. Nobody feels particularly at home when there’s one person sniffing you out as an outsider, as one would imagine.

It wasn’t until one random day after a blood-drenched battle where Jonny had approached him with a sparkle in his normally barren eyes. In the heat of the moment, Paul only remembers a salute and deep bow from the pirate and surprised voices from the rest of the crew. He’s still not really sure what happened for Jonny to change his mind, but ever since then, they’ve been having small conversations and, at times, trivial discussions. They’ve come so far as to be able to go on shopping trips with only the two of them without any hitches at all — Paul could even say it goes smoother than going out to town with Sky, even if he can barely wrap his head around it.

And now, we’re here.

“But fishes usually eat other fishies, aye?” Jonny asks, carrying two unevenly sized buckets on his trusty wooden oar, “That’d be cannibalism in itself…”

“That’s… partially true,” Paul replies, “I think you can think of it as humans and other mammals. Eating cows and lambs doesn’t necessarily make us cannibals.”

“Ah. And when Jonny’d thought he’d found a way to justify eatin’ them…” Jonny visually wilts down to the dampened floor, dropping the wood buckets down with a thunk. Paul stifles a laugh at the slightly pathetic sight of Jonny defeatedly tossing his oar away, in order to prevent him from feeling too bad. He couldn’t have imagined pirates, who he’d previously thought of as bloodthirsty, to be able to feel as guilty over something as silly as this. The blond follows suit, placing down the two fishing rods they’d brought out as well.

“Well, you’re a pirate after all, so it makes sense that you’d take any meat you can get. Especially on this crew. Finding a suitable port all while having the correct funds sounds practically impossible considering your captain,” Paul smiles, turning his gaze over to the vast ocean to the right of them, “So fish consumption shouldn’t be something for you to be concerned about. They’re a suitable substitution for more popular meats, I think.”

Paul expects a response, but he’s met with an almost awkward silence that takes place between the two instead. Confused, he turns his head back to his companion, who stands blankly.

“Our captain,” Jonny corrects, “And ye’d be a pirate too.”

Now, Paul pauses, somewhat stunned, and Jonny’s the one awaiting an answer.

“…Yes, our captain,” Paul reiterates, “Our crew as well.”

Jonny smiles, proud and welcoming, much too reminiscent of his beloved role model, and Paul feels a certain warmth inside his chest that he can’t quite label at the moment. The two share a fuzzy glance and chuckle a bit before Paul turns to the sea again, this time with a soft appreciation for something old and renewed. Similarly, Jonny leans over the aged railings and takes a gander at some cuisine on tonight’s menu. His head whips back and forth a couple times, bandana flapping on and on before he finishes his previous thought.

“I guess fish be pretty tasty anyways, so it’s okay to eat ‘em!” Jonny concludes, watching the small waiver of waves ripple as they pass by, “They make everyone happy too, so yer sacrifice doesn’t go t’ pain, fishies! You’ll make the Cap’n real happy!”

“It’s ‘to vain’, Jonny.”

“Aye! Thanks, ol’ Paul o’ semantics!” Jonny nods deeply, turning his head over to Paul, “Say, for every new n’ crazy word y’tell me today, I’ll dock it as an extra on my quota! It’ll be out of thanks for expandin’ my vocabulary.”

Paul laughs, not entirely understanding the concept of it all, but entertaining it nonetheless, “You can try your best, but I’m not sure if I can stomach all of that meat.”

“Then you can donate t’ the others! Jonny’ll see what he can catch first… Oh, but the sky looks kind of grumpy today, don’t it? Not sure if that’ll be of help t’ us.”

Paul glances up to an incoming swirl of dulled blue and darkened gray clouds, “Seems so. Odd.”

Neither of them would have expected it after the sunny morning only an hour or two ago, but they don’t dwell on it too long. Instead they share a relaxed laugh at a failed hope of late afternoon fishing. Either way is fine for them, after all. They’ll see how much they can make from a shortened situation like this.

“Looks like you’ll have t’ keep yer fancy vocab to a minimum, Paul!”

△

Jonny was right. The sky was grumpy indeed.

“Captain,” Henry calls out, prancing up the creaking stairs to the ship’s helm, “I was lookin’ over the maps we gained from way back at our last port, and I think ye’d be scammed out of yer money again. Y’really gotta learn about pattern recognition.”

To no avail, he gains no reply. Henry places his foot on the final step, and finds his captain hunched over the helm’s wheel. It’s weird, but not a newly discovered sight, unfortunately.

“Money be lost. Gone. Ye’d be an idiot.” Henry condenses, but his words still aren’t heard over the… questionable grumbling from Sky but otherwise peaceful silence that befalls the ship. The navigator sighs, annoyed with the fact that he’s forced to contribute more effort than he’d like.

Henry starts his way to the direct front of the wheel. He pauses once, pretends to hit Sky in the face, walks behind him, picks up his hat and places it back down, trails back again, twice around the Captain himself, yet his triangular gaze doesn’t wither. Just stares straight. One would think that that’s good characteristic to have as a helmsman, but as Henry follows Sky’s glare, he only finds it sticks a landing right between Jonny and Paul. For two people he claims to love very much, said glare is enough to break the already dissipating ship that he too, loves very much. And if Sky doesn’t get his sights back on what he should be focused on, it’s mighty possible that all of these things that he loves, oh so very much, will end up sinking to the bottom of the ocean in no time. Henry lets out another sigh.

In attempts to deconstruct the situation, Henry glances over at the ongoing conversation between Jonny and Paul over by the ship’s wooden railing. He has to admit, yes, he’s also surprised to see them getting along so well without any interference, but it doesn’t look wrong, exactly. Lots of smiles. Lots of laughing. “Maybe Jonny’s dog-brain spread to Paul,” Henry thinks.

With some experienced magic, his crystal blue eyes squint to examine further, and his vision enhances in on the lip movements moving the conversation along. Sky’s muttering complaints tune out, and imaginary words tune in instead. There’s a good variety of words as far as Henry can tell, some like “fish”, “sunshine”, “cooking”, “photosynthesis”, and the like. Henry sends out some mental props to Paul for using such aristocratic words with a guy like Jonny. However, the word most abundant between them is “sky”. It’s almost like the two of them would die if they didn’t go a couple sentences without bringing it — or him — up.

Both Jonny and Paul are notorious (or as notorious as they can get on a crew made up of two other members) for competing for the spot of Sky’s favorite on the crew. It’s to no surprise that the captain would be their hot topic of discussion no matter the situation. Likely the reason why they’re even getting along right now. So for a guy like Sky who’s constantly whining about the lack of talk regarding his name, Henry is left confused with the state of his captain. Your two favorite people talking non-stop about you, and you have the audacity to be upset about it? Even Henry didn’t know Sky could be that greedy.

“So why’re ye acting like such an idiot today?” Henry verbalizes, finally resorting to kicking Sky in the left calf to catch his attention. He lets out a hearty yelp, finally snapping out of his daze. Both Jonny and Paul whip their heads back in surprise, but neither care enough to call out to Henry. They continue chatting aimlessly, clueless to the predicament occupying the helm.

“Who called me an idiot?!” Sky booms, dramatic as ever, “Yer captain be steerin’ the ship t’where ye need to be! Nothin’ else!”

“U~huh,” Henry drags out, “I’ve never seen you gander at Paul with anythin’ but heart eyes. Don’t tell me that ye only be starting t’ hate him now that he be on our side.”

Sky sharply gasps, offended, and crosses his arms to deny Henry’s accusation, “As if. I’d never hate Paulie.”

“It’d be Jonny that’s the issue then? Cruel thing t’be wishing misfortune on yer brother.”

“Nay! Not that either!!!” Sky’s eyes droop deeply as his arched brows furrow downwards. His feigned anger doesn’t affect Henry anyway, who wears the same expecting yet bored gaze he’s held for the entirety of the investigation. Left with no more questions to answer, Sky’s only choice is to fess up to this annoyingly persistent wall of a navigator.

A heavy and wheezed sigh escapes Sky’s lips, almost as if it was painfully squeezed out of him. He waits a second or two, before speaking up again, this time in a shrunken voice.

“Just… have ye ever… seen Paulie so happy…?”

Oh. So this is the problem.

Henry tightly presses his lips together, cringing at this sorry excuse of a one sided lover’s quarrel. Unfortunately, in order to solve a situation you have to assess it. “Crew wages would be a blessed thing to have right now,” Henry wishes, feeling like a couple therapist.

“He be so happy… and smilin’… and laughin’…” While choking back tears, Sky curls back over the helm’s wheel, “Paulie rarely ever acts that cute around me… so why…!”

A firm fist slams into the wooden steering wheel, and Sky sinks down even further to the point of even his forehead making a thunk. Sky’s trembling sobs bleed into the sun dried wood of the ship. Every movement is sloppy, and a disgustingly lovesick feeling trails behind, staining the area with a touchy-feely ick. Not particularly one of Henry’s favorite things.

He waves his hand to shake it off, and takes a breath before confirming, “Long story short, ye be jealous of Jonny because he’s stealin’ Paul’s attention. Aye?”

“Because Paulie be sharin’ his cute smile with Jonny n’ not me!”

“Aye aye, same thing,” Henry grumbles, sending a hearty pat on the back to his distraught captain, “Then why don’t you intervene? Ye be captain after all. Both of them would probably hither to your every word if ye really tried. Y’could probably get them to hate each other again if you wanted them to.”

“But…” Sky lifts his head from the now-dampened wheel, “I be happy they be gettin’ along… I just don’t want Paulie t’ end up liking Jonny more than me! I’ve worked too hard trying t’ win him over…!”

“…Then try showing Paul all the love you got?” Henry’s sure he’s heard this line from some other pirate in a bar before.

“He’d run away! I know Paulie too well… I can imagine his blushy face… all before he hits me in the jaw…” Despite the painful imagery, Sky’s tone stays lovestruck.

“Annoying. This is why I don’t bother with love,” Henry blanks. Sky’s love problems are enough for him to deal with and he’s not even directly involved in the situation. Anything with this much miscommunication and this many layers is too much for Henry to even try and detangle. He’s willing to do a lot for his best buddy, something easier like an assasination or risking his own life, but working this quarrel out is where he draws the line.

“Alright, you’ve got too many issues t’ deal with and this ain’t even what I signed up for.” Bloody Henry surrenders, putting two hands up in defeat. He’s about to tack on a halfhearted good luck to his sentiment, all before his ears pick up on the opening creak of a door. Peeking down the stairs leading to the helm, he spots a black hat and muddled green hair stumbling about. Perfect! Problems can be solved and labor can happen. About the most productive Captain Sky’s Pirates can be!

“…Buuut,” Henry picks up again, “Sometimes thinkin’ about the hypotheticals doesn’t take ye nowhere. Life of a pirate, aye cap’n?” A sweet smile falls on his small face, and before Sky can even attempt to follow along, his navigator takes charge.

“Blackbeard! Come work your shift as helmsman, will ye?” Henry calls out, receiving a profanic bark in response, “And ex-officer Paul, cap’n wants to have a word with ye!”

Sky’s eyes shoot open at Henry’s call for Paul, yet he can only stand agape as he sees Paul turn around obediently at the shout of his name. Nothing is audible from the distance they’re at, but Sky can clearly see Jonny droop with disappointment as Paul waves him a goodbye. Left alone with a half bucket of fish, he has nothing to do except absentmindedly throw his fishing line out again. There’s nothing malicious about the simple goodbye, and Sky knows it, but that same disgruntled feeling runs through his body. The way Paul walks over, his typical distinguished aura washing away the specially carefree one he was sharing with someone else before, it all makes Sky’s chest ache a little. He doesn’t resist Henry's sporadic plan anymore, as the drop in morale was too severe for him to keep his gusto.

On time as ever, Paul makes his way up the helm’s stairs as quickly as one can, with a graceful punctuality of a naval recruit. Similarly, he stands straight and reformed, awaiting for the expansion of his orders. Henry snorts at how inappropriate Paul’s acting considering the situation, but ends up awkwardly coughing into his hand to cover it up.

“Appears to me that you and the Captain have got something to say to each other, so I put it upon myself t’ give you two some space to talk about yer feelings.”

Paul narrows his eyes in confusion, “What feelings?” He makes an attempt to glance over at Sky for any sort of hint towards the situation, but gains nothing of importance. As far as Paul can tell, Henry probably told Sky about how horrible the ship’s conditions are. It’s not hard to get Sky quiet and sulking.

“Exactly!” Henry beams, punching a congratulatory fist out towards Paul, “Sort it out in the Captain’s quarters, aye? Whatever you two get up to isn’t somethin’ the rest of us wanna witness, I assure ye.”

Before Paul can even raise his voice to refute, Henry grabs him by the arm, spinning him around and shoving him right into Sky’s arms. Happily, Sky takes him in, and soon enough Paul is enveloped in the warm embrace of the one who loves him so. Paul’s cheeks flush red at the suddenness of it all.

“Good luck, Captain! Plunder your booty, or… whatever.”

A violently hushed “What? What?” is all Paul can choke out, shooting a shocked glare as strong as he can muster at Henry. Sky shrugs in defeat and begins to shuffle him away, Paul soon losing sight of the navigator waving goodbye like a pretty princess.

Life of a pirate was what Henry had mentioned before. For Sky, that’s all his life ever was. Sometimes, you strike lucky and plunder a million, or the navy strikes you and your beloved vessel crashes to the depths of the sea. You won’t reach either conclusion if you never take a gamble every once in a while. At the end of it all, you come out alive only to scramble along again. Living on the sea is unexpected, dangerously so, and you can never count on the chances of you seeing it through the next day.

“So,” Sky calculates, gazing upon Paul’s reddening neck as he pushes him along, “If life be dealing me with an opportunity like this, what kind of pirate captain am I if I can’t make the most of it?”

△

Not a very good captain, to say the least.

Upon entering the Captain’s Quarters, Paul breaks out of Sky’s grip, finding solace in the middle of the room. Preparing himself for anything, the ex-officer tightly crosses his arms, a sharp eye following Sky’s every move. But oddly enough, Sky doesn’t jump the gun as usual. Instead, he looks in another direction, and his royal blue cloak sadly trails behind him, perching upon a meek wooden chair. It whines painfully as Sky puts his weight on it, squatting on it with all his might. Similar to the chair, Sky’s face is, weirdly, just as pathetic.

Paul’s arms loosen upon realizing that he doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve, and his browline relaxes. Whether actually true or not, to Sky, he seems disappointed with the lack of action.

The corners of Sky’s mouth jump up teasingly, “What’s wrong, Paulie? Were ye expecting me t’ do something else to you?” It’s an attempt at charming Paul, but his gloominess poses a threat to his natural charisma. It’s only about half effective, but Sky’ll take Paul sighing with a reddened face as a win, at least. Unfortunately, it seems like Paul isn’t in the mood.

“I did not,” The blond bites back, “I’m just confused. If you really wanted to do something, I wouldn’t just be standing aimlessly like this. We both know that. So what’s the point of bringing me here?”

“I didn’t wanna bring ye here in the first place!” Sky protests, defending himself, “‘Twas all Henry’s idea.”

“To talk about feelings? Henry of all people?”

Sky saddeningly rests his chin on the small chair’s backrest, believing that it’s enough to substitute as a “yes”. The statement sounds bizarre to him too, after all.

“…If he went that far, then there’s definitely something going on with you past just being dramatic,” Paul murmurs, observing Sky’s behavior from about three feet away, “Or it poses a threat to Henry’s wellness of life. Either way, you’re going to have to explain yourself, because I’m clueless as to why you’re acting so depressed.”

Sky doesn’t answer. Like a child being scolded, he stays quiet with his gaze locked onto the wooden grains of his room. His fingernail plays with a stray hair of wood loose on his perch. He’ll take anything to escape Paul being mean to him.

“Sky,” Paul warns, voice growing impatient, “If you don’t speak up, I’m going to end up leaving you.”

Sky winces at Paul’s word choice. He really has no backbone when he’s threatened with his treasures leaving him. He knows it probably wasn’t intentional, knowing Paul, but the various semantics behind it make his heart ache. With more silence follows another warning.

“I’ll have to go tell Jonny that—“

“THAT!” Sky shouts, suddenly jumping up in the chair and scaring Paul in the process, “That be the problem!”

“What?” Paul sputters, “That…? Jonny?”

Sky yelps out a “yes!” to confirm Paul’s suspicion, but realizes how crazy he sounds by doing so. Paul’s face is slightly bewildered, causing Sky to shrink down and curl back into his chair yet again. Considering his relationship with Jonny, it makes sense Paul would be confused with the concept of him being the reason for Sky’s depressive state. Honestly, Sky’s surprised too. Ashamed, he lowers his head and attempts to explain himself.

“Y’know… ye n’ Jonny… were out fishing with each other…”

“And what’s the issue with that?”

“Nothin’ important,” Sky assures, “Just that…”

Paul cocks a brow.

“…I thought y’hated each other.”

“Do you want us to?“ Paul asks, genuinely flabbergasted, “The entire time I’ve been on this crew, you’ve been floundering me and Jonny to get along, and now that we finally are you’re acting childish about it. So what is it?”

“That ain’t the problem!” Sky whines, finally looking up at Paul, “I wanted the two o’ ye to get along, but not like this! Ye always be smiling and laughing around Jonny and I don’t understand why!”

Paul’s brows jump at Sky’s confession. Falling silent, he murmurs to himself.

“Do I really…” Paul’s face flushes a bit, to Sky’s surprise. To Paul’s as well, as a new feeling wriggles in his chest, making him feel weirdly flattered. Instinctively, his fingers touch upon his lips at the mention of his smile, obscuring them from the pirate’s vision. The room is still awkwardly silent.

Sky’s voice runs quiet as he clarifies, “I just don’t get what’s so special about talkin’ t’ Jonny that makes your smile pop out so often. I have to work so hard to even get a glimpse of it.” A pout follows the confession. It’s stupid. It’s supposed to be stupid, but Paul can’t help but find it cute. A grown man feeling stupidly jealous over him isn’t something that should make his heart flip twice over, but it does. It’s an unknown feeling for Paul.

There’s a lot of things that flood into Paul’s mind at this moment, some thoughts he wants to keep to himself, and some prompting questions he wants to ask Sky. But the most apparent is his discovery of the reason for Sky’s gloominess. This time, Paul breaks the silence by voicing his conclusion.

“…Are you jealous, Sky?”

The culprit can’t even push himself to deny it anymore. It’s much too apparent, with him childishly clinging to a wooden chair for comfort during the confrontation. His gaze once again falls to the floor in shame, unfitting for a pirate captain.

“You really are an idiot,” Paul sighs, almost disappointed with Sky’s incompetence. Though his words are thorny, a slightly playful smile blooms on his face.

Small creaks reach Sky’s ears, growing in volume before Paul’s light fingers touch upon his chin. Amber eyes tilt upwards, and Sky feels blessed witnessing the beautiful sight before him. His lover’s silhouette blocks the small amount of light bleeding into the Captain’s quarters, making it feel like the two are isolated in a moment just to themselves. Emerald eyes are narrowed, glazed with a sugared honey. Soft, tender, and sweet, oh so similar to the heavy feelings Sky carries for Paul.

“You already know the whole reason why I joined this crew was because of you,” Sky’s eyes begin to melt at Paul’s rare, honey-dripped tone, “If you weren’t so persistent, I would’ve never even considered becoming a pirate. To change the course of my entire life and attempt a second… It’s because of you. It always was. I…”

Now, Paul’s gaze falls, face blushed with feelings.

“I…”

His words become choked in his throat, too jumbled to let out. The short monologue comes to a close, and Paul closes his lips, flustered. He can’t go on.

Instead, his fingers tilt Sky’s jaw even further up. Paul cradles Sky’s face softly as he moves in closer. Beautiful green eyes lock with an awaiting, burning sunset, and soon, their lips lightly touch together. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, tame in comparison to ones they’ve shared before, but it’s laced with a dangerous sweetness. It expresses more than Paul could ever imagine. Despite that lack of intense action, Sky still feels robbed of his breath when they part.

“I love you, Paul,” He murmurs, mind vacant of any other thoughts, “I love you so much.”

The promise spills out effortlessly. As easy as saying “hello”.

Yet, Paul can only respond with silence. His lips stay static, but his eyes waiver with hesitation. Swirling with so many shades, Sky watches them fade from confusion, acceptance, to affection. Every version is beautiful. Every version, Sky adores.

There may be no verbal indication of Paul’s feelings, but Sky doesn’t mind. Staring into Paul’s eyes tells him enough. It may be a mess, but it’s coherent to him. That’s about fine for Sky. He doesn’t need more than whatever Paul is ready for. No matter how much he’s allowed, he’ll treasure everything he can get. He’s used to it, after all.

Paul’s eyes tremble again, but this time strong with one feeling. He’s embarrassed, Sky can tell, with the adorably red cheeks and desperation for words. This is a side of Paul only he’s familiar with, and so, he laughs, those feelings of jealousy melting away by the second.

“…I was never good with words.” Paul coughs, stating the obvious. The way he quietly confesses it like it’s a secret makes Sky chuckle, but he can’t blame him. Any attempt at reigniting conversation is good for him right about now.

“It’d be alright,” Sky coos, “I love that too~.”

“Would you stop it already?” An embarrassed smile creeps through Paul’s feigned nonchalant attitude, “This is why I can’t stand you half the time.”

“Aye, I know~” Sky smiles too, with a grin much more charming and confident than Paul’s. At last, he stretches away from the wooden chair which creaks out of relief at the release of weight. No longer cooped up in a barrage of messy feelings, the captain jumps over to Paul, bright blue springing up and down with every step. He seems to be fully cured of the gloominess that plagued him before. Paul smiles with satisfaction, charming Sky, and with the captain being the lovesick fool he is, he begins to lean in for another kiss.

That is, before he’s interrupted by an echoing knock on his door.

“Can I open the door?” Francoise’s high voice questions, sounding almost scared. Sky shouts a word of affirmation after a huff, and the lean lady opens the Captain’s Quarters with a relieved sigh upon seeing the two. The only point of contact is Sky’s arm resting upon Paul’s waist. Both Sky and Paul tilt their heads, clueless to the reason for her cautiousness.

“It’d be raining out on the deck, and Jonny wasn’t too keen on fishing out there alone, so we decided to play some cards in the dining area,” Francoise explains, “Henry’s already thrown out the anchor, so he told me to come and invite the two o’ ye.”

Her big eyes scan across the room suspiciously before continuing, “Thankfully you two were still clothed by the time I got ‘ere… I was afraid I’d walk in on somethin’ I didn’t wanna see.”

Immediately, Paul takes offense, arms crossed and face blooming red, “Why do all of you always assume Sky and I are up to something indecent?! Are conversations not a normal occurrence in your lives?”

“Considering whatever’s going on with the Captain’s arm and your hips,” Francoise carelessly motions at the two of them, “I don't think that be a normal occurrence, Paul.” Sky snickers, and Paul elbows him in the rib. He lets out a pained “ow” in response.

“Blimey… Then let us finish up what we were doin’ and we’ll meet’cha in the dining quarters!” Sky proposes, ushering Francoise to make a quick leave, “That way, there’d be no way to walk in on something ye don’t wanna see. Happy ending for everyone!”

Instantly, Francoise takes the chance, and swiftly turns around, leaving the premises with small steps. To take her place, Paul’s growing glare corners Sky, urging him to explain himself, and Sky realizes that he’s lost his chance at a second kiss. With a heavy sigh, he clears his throat, his demeanor darkening to serious tone.

“Don’t worry Paulie. I just wanted to request ye somethin’ as captain.” Sky explains, looking at Paul with a strict gaze. It catches Paul off guard, now listening intently.

“I just… needed some privacy… for me to make sure that you sit next to me and not Jonny!” Sky’s palm presses firmer on Paul’s hip, emphasizing his point. Though Sky maintains stern brows, all of Paul’s previous concern withers away in a second. Sky is now faced with a look of pathetic pity.

“God,” Paul grumbles, “Why are you so dramatic…”

“Because this be a serious matter! Please, Paulie, sit next to me…!”

“You really are a wimp,” Paul sighs, before a small smirk sneaks its way onto his face. Mischievously, his arms reach to peel Sky’s hand off of him, “Well, you better hurry before I end up taking the seat next to him then.”

Surprising Sky, Paul begins to run off to the dining area with a competitive look, escaping from his grasp. The captain shouts, losing his beloved treasure by the second. Sky stumbles over his triangular rug, breaking out of his initial shock and tripping his way after Paul. He chases after that shining gold with pathetic cries, just as he always has. Just as how he’ll continue to.

“Oi, Paulie! Can’tcha just sit on my lap instead?! We don’t need t’ fight like this…!”

On that rainy day, the Sky Pirates had experienced the most chaotically competitive game of cards any of them had ever played. The afternoon filled with laughter and cheers, with not even Bloody Henry escaping a good chuckle.

The life of a pirate was dangerous, indeed, but it allowed for one to cherish every moment of life.