A large, calloused hand on the nape of Briggsy’s neck pushes him along a narrow hall, against his will. This isn’t the first time this has happened. It will not be the last.
Tears wet his cheeks. “I-I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean ‘ta offend— AGK!!“
The hand squeezes, cutting off his apology with a sharp squeak.
“Quit your fucking blubbering, slug. Ya shoulda thought before ya let your Gods-damned maw keep flappin’.”
“I’ll shut up next time, I swear, please ma’am—“
He’s suddenly slammed into the wooden walls of the ship’s underbelly. He cries out in pain.
“What the fuck did I just say?! Keep. Yer damned mouth shut!”
She thrusts him into the wall twice more, the wood behind his head nearly splitting from the impact. He can feel where splinters threaten to pierce his hide.
She waits.
Briggsy heaves a few sob-heavy breaths, but he listens.
His tears do not.
“I didn’t have to let you stay on my ship,” she snarls. Her breath is hot and fetid near his nostrils. “I didn’t have to give you food and clothing, and a roof over your head, and I sure as fuck don’t have to pay ya to mop my fucking deck. Is this how ya choose to repay my grace? Talkin’ back to your Captain and then weepin’ like a child, as if that’s gonna get ya outta this?”
Salt and pepper hair, light grey sunspot skin, cerulean eyes. A sleeveless coat of navy blue and translucent white, slightly hazy even in the dark of below deck. Displacer beast fur.
…What is her name?
“You know the consequences, now man up and deal with ‘em. Got me?”
Briggsy hiccups, as a new wave of tears flows down his face. His eyes feel raw.
“I-I—“
His head cracks against the wall once again, and warm liquid begins to trickle down the back of his neck.
“I said do ya fucking got me, slug?!”
His vision swims, and it wavers on upwards to meet hers. He nods wordlessly.
She spits on the ground in front of him, and yanks him away by the grip on his neck, dragging him down the rest of the corridor in silence.
He’s shoved into the brig with his Captain hot on his heels. Leather straps are pulled taught around his head; an iron cage is affixed over his snout. He’s quiet through it all.
“No supper tonight. I’ll send Flick to let you out come morning. And I better not hear one word out of your mouth, or next time I won’t be so benevolent. Nod if we’re in agreement.”
He stares at the wall, and slowly nods. His claws dig sharply into the meat of his palms.
The door shuts loud and heavy behind her, and a key locks it tight. His Captain’s footsteps click across wooden floors, until he can no longer hear them over the lapping of ocean waves.
It’s in that moment Briggsy stays, until he wakes.
