"Aye, me perfect sprog. T'is Talk Like a Pirate day. Please indulge me an' let yer pretty mouth say somethin' like a pirate, juss this one time!"
cigarette hangs from his maw, held loosely. familiarity sake had it be so he wouldn’t worry about it falling, ‘fore the mercenary plucks it rather simply from his lips. he exhales slowly, as if to mull over the request. all at once smile dawns as if there was never any shadow of a doubt. he never could say no to jack.
❝ mmm how bout this . . . yo-ho-ho, n’a botte of rum! - les’see what else d’you pirate-folk say? . . . man th’starboard or somethin’ -- that’s a pirate thing right? ❞
