RobTC (or BlamePause or whichever MC/BW pairing) Pirate war :)
BTC took another sip from his beer, grimacing at the taste. He didn’t know what he expected from a tavern in the middle of a tiny island that was mainly inhabited by pirates, but he wanted something better than the piss-water he was currently drinking. But he knew the Cracked Mind would only be there for another night, so he took another sip, knowing he’d have nothing else better to do for the rest of the night.
Almost immediately after he put down his drink, he heard from his left, a familiar voice. He wore a simple white shirt and dark red pants. The gold bands on his wrists clattered on the bar top.
“Hey Jarool.”
Blame closed his eyes briefly, sighing. For a brief moment, when they’d first ade port, he thought he’d gotten lucky.
He turned to face the speaker, who was grinning wide.
“Hello Captain Willakers,” he said, not trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.”
“No need for the formalities,” the captain said, smirking. “And, Jarool, I thought you’d be happier to see me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m ecstatic to see the captain of the ship the Cracked Mind is in a war with.”
Willakers laughed, “Is that how Captain Guude described it to you guys? I told my men it’s more like a game of tag.”
BTC smirked, “If only it was that simple.”
The captain leaned closer to Blame until he was right up in his face.
“You know what else is simple?” the captain whispered. When Blame gave no reply, he continued, “Walking up to the room I rented for us to sped the night in.”
He leaned back, smiling at BTC’s scowl.
“Enemies usually don’t invite each other to their rooms,” Blame said, still scowling.
Willakers pouted, “What made you think we were enemies?”
Hw dug in his pocket, pulled out a could of coins to pay for his drink and after a moment, slid some over to Blame.
“Drink’s on me,” he said before getting up and walking to the back of the tavern, to where the stairs were.
He looked back to BTC, eyebrow raised. Blame looked down at his drink, then back to the captain.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, picking up his drink and downing it in one go before going over to the captain. He didn’t even look at him, going straight up the stairs.
“You better not call me Jarool,” he said when he reached the top.
“Then stop calling me Willakers,” the captain retorted, walking up after him.
“Fine… Rob.”
Rob smiled before pulling Blame with him to their room.
