New Horizons [WWs on the Run Arc]

[Aubs]

The door shut behind him as the young Captain of the White-Wing Pirates left his quarters and moved instead onto the main deck of the Flight, the ship the crew had stolen on its fledgling journey into the Grand Line. Without much thought Aubrey Meador moved towards the railing nearest to him, on the port side. Even now his head was just beginning to clear from the day before. He had yet to sleep, having instead spent the night destroying World Noble property and discussing with his friend Justin on how they could possibly survive the next few days. That diatribe had turned into an emotion roller coaster, but perhaps that would be for the best. Placing his hands gently on the wood Aubrey looked out into the waning darkness towards the horizon. Even from here he could just make it out, the next destination…the Kingdom of Veldesh, the Golden Nugget of the Peace Route.

Portsden, one of two real cities on the island. Portsden was the only real port on the island, but had been fortunate enough to receive a great deal of money for its trouble over the years. Veldesh was by all standards a wealthy country, but had only two large towns on it, one of which was of course, this one called Portsden. Built inside an impressive circular seawall the town was compact and crowded. Just outside of this modestly flat area of the island however the landscape began to rise. To facilitate the large amount of people here, the city was a few stories tall on average, with each building close to its neighbor and at least 2 stories tall. The streets were made of cobblestone pulled off the mountains further into the island proper, and all were shined to perfection. Bad things didn’t happen here, so that shine would last a long time. Veldesh was known for its rolling hills and moderate mountains, as well as it very peculiar forests. So, to find enough space amongst those different geographies was very fortunate. But that meant that just outside the city walls was the countryside, and not far past that the capital of the Kingdom.

Enough of the future however, at this precise moment all our Captain could see was lights to his front. By his estimation it would take an hour or more to arrive. In the meantime, there were things to be done. Having worked out the foundations of a plan with Justin, the wannabe captain was going to have to try and get things in motion before they arrived at the Kingdom. He was unaware of the happenings in the ocean around him, but Aubrey did know that the crew would have to act fast to secure themselves for the near term. They would have to find a place to hide the ship, which on second thought might have been the easiest thing to do going forward. That meant that they would need a landing party capable of striking a deal and giving them a place to hide out. Sean would be a good choice, being a shipwright people wouldn’t question him much in needing room to put a ship. The other members of this team were a bit harder to place though.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Justin was the best bet to make things happen, he had a way with espionage. However, if Aubrey was going to send the most wanted man on his crew into harm’s way he would need backup. The usual suspects for bodyguards would be better suited to defending the ship, which is where he would be staying himself. Ren would have to stay as well and guide the ship into whatever mess they were headed. That didn’t even account for the two civilians on the ship that had joined them from the Entitled, Aubrey’s friend Ethan and a woman from Lougetown that the boys seemed to know called Aria. Well, no other way around it.

Without another thought the rookie pirate walked over to the bell hunt on his mast used to rouse the crew and rang it vigorously. Time to get to business.

---

Chance had brought these two parties together, or something like that. Of all the things to run into in the West Blue Jaymi had not expected to find a Devil Fruit user with such brutal power and such a malleable mind. Let alone the mysterious connection between that dinosaur and his lackey, an old butler with an intricate sword befitting a fighter curiously enough, and herself the collections agent. She had been paid to find a man named Aubrey Meador, some kid in the Grand Line. She was to kill him when his guard was down, simple enough. Strangely though, she had run into this odd pair of men in the Blues carrying a wanted poster of the man she was after. This “Bulletproof” had earned a reputation it seemed, and even though this mission itself was a bit more involved than she liked to get with anything, Jaymi had seen the advantage of using this pair as her vessel to get out of the Blues and into richer waters.

Having docked a minute or so before, this woman Jaymi chose this moment to kick the large buffoon called Greyson who was laying down awkwardly on the ground of the room the three shared in this god-awful, mildew smelling, rat infested, hell hole of a transport that had been willing to cross into the grand line for them. It had taken a lot of, convincing if you will, but Jaymi had managed a trip. She would owe the rest of her payment shortly, which was the main reason for leaving in the dead of night. Still, she needed the cooperation of this strange pair of men in order to complete this scheme. The mutual desire to find this guy Aubrey would only take them so far, our trio would have to canvas too.

Jaymi, standing just over five feet tall, with her bombastic figure had made a living out of what the world had given her, and taking what else she needed of course. She had golden blonde hair that waved down at her back, massed with volume. Her features were sharp yet subtle, full lips and a trim nose, well-structured eyebrows and a long graceful neckline. She had fair skin but not pale, with a sterling complexion. She was beautiful from head to toe, and yes she knew it. Swaying with the wake from the large docking vessel, her hips moving from side to side but upper body rigged with sternness, she awaited her “compatriots”. She wore a decent amount of gold, it caught the eye you know. Her small red corset and lightly pinstriped black pants seemed a bit out place in this classy town, but hey use what you got right? Her favorite black and gold jacket matched her outfit of course, she had designed it around this old, well-worn coat. It’s trimming even hid the two golden daggers at her waist with handles shaped eloquently as two naked women.

Kicking again, she tried to rouse the stupid man before looking at Alistair, the old man, giving him a look of concern. And all around them the Marine Ships were locking together, one blockade just east of Veldesh and one two the West between Saisho. Within a few hours the blockade would be complete and the patrols would start. Then the landing teams would come ashore and start interrogating. The best part you ask? No one knew it was coming, lest of all our friends here.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

No posting order at this time. Feel free when you are able. Greyson is with Jaymi on Veldesh and the crew is still a few minutes away on the Flight.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

[Jade]

Greyson awoke to a sharp pain in his side; the kicks from a certain collections agent, as the woman called herself, had finally gotten through the powerfully built man. He groaned as he righted himself, leaning against the cot that should have been his slightly more comfortable place to sleep, if Greyson himself hadn’t been a man of such unusually large stature. So, instead of the rock-hard cot, the Zoan user had had the privilege of sleeping on the splintering, reeking floor, and he was about as happy as anyone could have imagined.

”Fichu... What the hell, woman?” Normally at least attempting to play the role of a charming, aloof man, the act was entirely dropped when Greyson had just been woken up. His mood didn’t improve in the slightest when he looked out the one tiny window the room they had been given possessed; it didn’t look like the sun had even begun to think about rising for the day, and Jaymi was already trying to rouse him? ”It’s too damn early pour moi d’être éveillé...” The Zoan user yawned and stretched, cracking his back against the disgusting mattress behind him, and then stood.

He received another rude reminder that, no, this room was not built for someone like him when his head bumped against the ceiling, prompting a string of expletives in that foreign language he was always speaking. No matter how many times he accidentally did that, Greyson seemed incapable of remembering that he needed to lean down to not bang his head every single time he came into the room.

”Good morning, sir,” Alistair smiled genially, looking at his hulking employer, and then over to Jaymi. ”I believe that we had planned on l’abandon de ce navire, seeing as our current situation will not allow for us payer le montant total. I have already prepared your clothing, so, allons nous quitter?”

Greyson blinked, seemingly unable to fully comprehend what his own butler had just communicated. It took him a second to translate the foreign parts, at least, but the reason for the little “code” and hushed tones became painfully clear almost immediately after the huge man figured out what he had been told. He nodded slowly, sitting down upon the too-small mattress. He had slept only in a pair of dirty pants, leaving his feet were bare. His torso was still wrapped in a thin layer of cloth, makeshift bandages, from his fight with the Marine Officer back on Stetson Island, his home for 13 years, which the Zoan user had only left on this long at his butler’s request. Today was the day he would remove these bandages; the day he had caught up to the man called “Bulletproof”.

”Very well, then.” Greyson’s own voice had fallen to a muffled half-whisper as he addressed his butler, completely ignoring the scantily clad woman who had shared this gross little room with Alistair and himself for the past... What felt like months, but Greyson knew could only have been a couple weeks, at most. ”Assist me in dressing, Alistair. Nous avons pas un moment à perdre...”

”Of course, sir.” The old gentleman moved in front of the large one, passing back a fresh pair of pants; how he had managed to procure a clean set of clothing on such a filthy ship was a mystery to everyone but the old butler, who didn’t seem to consider it important enough a thing to tell. Alistair stood still in front of Greyson, acting as a barrier of sorts between his employer and Jaymi Walter while the Zoan user changed his pants.

The butler turned around, showing that Greyson had indeed managed to change out of his filthy, once-upon-a-time black pants to a pair of khaki pants. The raven-haired man stood, still doubled over, still, allowing the older man to slowly remove his bandages. ”I assume you have some sort of plan, then, eh, petite femme,” Greyson grumbled, raising an eyebrow as he stared at the blonde lady, ”to find ‘Bulletproof’?” The last of the bandages were removed, showing that the wounds Greyson had received had cleanly healed over. A black, sleeveless shirt was pulled over his head, leaving the man’s powerful arms exposed, and tucked into his pants, and then a short, orange vest-like piece of clothing over that.

Greyson rolled his shoulders, still obviously uncomfortable, and picked at the orange vest. ”What’s with this?” he asked, turning around as best he could, looking at the butler out of the corner of his eye.

Alistair smiled, and then promptly proceeded to ignore the question. ”So then, irions-nous?”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

[Weeks]

The past 12 hours had certainly been filled with action and emotion that Just was still having trouble comprehending. A lot of lot of blood had been spilled, most of it from Justin himself, and he knew that he had taken things drastically to far. It wasn't the killing that got to him so much, but the way he had done it. He shuddered every time his mind flashed to the memories even for a second. He had managed to get a few hours of sleep regardless, enough to keep him going even if eyes felt a bit heavy.

He was now sitting on top of the mast of the ship, his rifle in hand as he looked through the scope. The wind was light yet biting in the cold light of the morning from where he sat, his Slouch hat shading his eyes as the sun rose. His long Black yet snugly fitting Peacoat was fully buttoned, keeping him nice and warm even though his hands were white with cold as he gripped the rifle. Today he had simply slapped on a pair of Jeans with his usual laced boots, not exactly feeling a need to dress up.

The town of Portsden was certainly breathtaking in it's scope, the walls lining the bay to let ships in or keep them out. How every parcel of land was built up upon, or perhaps the foundations had simply been built underwater. However it had been done, the town was very picturesque.

Still, Justin was't looking at the view, he was more interested in the towers that lined the bay, manned by what looked to be Marines. This was the point when he finally let the rifle rest against his lap, grinding his teeth together as he sighed, deep in thought.

Any escape from Portsden would certainly be difficult with the outer walls blocking an escape. No doubt the port authorities would want some sort of pass or movement orders to leave, so first on the agenda would be to get one, or at least an acceptable fake. Next would be to find some sort of map of the Peace route. Justin had no intention of sailing any further without an accurate look at where they would be going, but a map of anything accurate would be in Marine hands. Any civilian map would just have a black marker to mark a Marine base, and they needed something more solid to continue forward safely. Lastly, the crew needed to know what this island was and where they stood. Causing any trouble here might be a far gone conclusion, but if Aubrey felt in any way that this island might be susceptible to...White Wing intervention, it might come to that. Still, Justin was not looking for a fight this day, he had done to much of that in the past few weeks.

With another sigh he reached into his pocket, pulling his pack of smokes free as he lit up with a pack of matches, inhaling deeply in order to calm himself. The night before had been a hellish experience and he was still reeling from the argument himself and Aubrey had had. If anything he felt ashamed, enough to the point where he felt no desire to interact with anyone for the rest of the day. For the moment he looked down to his Captain as he exited his quarters, leaning on the railing and looking to the town ahead. Justin said nothing, just stayed quiet and pretended not to notice his friend. He was content with this for the moment, his rifle on his lap and his three pistols hidden beneath his coat and pant leg.

"Could really go for a cup of coffee right now..." he whispered to himself, his eyes scanning down to the deck as more and more of the crew emerged.

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

The situation had been tense ever since the crew’s narrow escape from the destruction of The Entitled, gouts of flame nipping at their heels. Though their actions onboard the noble’s cruiser had been more than morally justifiable, freeing men and women being held against their will under horrible conditions simply to make the lives of a select few more comfortable, that was not necessarily how the rest of the world would see things. On the flip side it could also be said that their motley crew had been the aggressors, attacking a civilian ship without provocation and inflicted millions upon millions in property damage. Combined with the prestige and status of some of the people aboard at the time of the assault, there was little doubt in anyone’s mind that there were going to be serious repercussions for what they had done. No good deed goes unpunished, after all. Suffice to say, the mood on their ship The Flight was somewhere between gloom and doom, with individual storm clouds hanging over each person’s head. With one exception, that is.

Resting on the floor of her room, Kallie slumbered peacefully, far from the troubles of the waking world. The petite shandian was curled up in ball, head resting against the crook of her elbow and swathed in a cocoon of scrounged fabric. She was still wearing the outfit she had been the day before, denim shorts and a lime-green top, but her cute monster hoodie had borne the brunt of abuse in her brief struggles and unfortunately was in no condition to be worn by anyone. Worse still, articles of clothing were not the only thing that had returned in poor condition. Her body still bore signs of conflict, some injuries obvious, while others appeared as the hours went on. Cuts were the most common, particularly around her hands and wrists where she had tried to defend herself. There were a matching set of bruises on either shoulder from the peacemaker’s whips, which had since darkened to an ugly purple. She was no stranger to injuring herself, though her previous experiences rarely involved combat, and even moreso that the Navy kept their fleet well stocked with medical supplies. Ice packs were applied over top of each, held loosely in place by a mess of white bandages (She could only use one hand at a time to tie them, and she wasn’t that great with knots in the first place). Superficial burns had turned the skin below her knees to an angry red, not severe enough to blister and peel, but enough to make walking a somewhat painful experience. Again, she had wrapped the injuries, but not before liberally applying antiseptics and lotion to ease the tightened skin. The rest of her exposed skin was a patchwork of band aids. Initially she had been applying them for strictly medical reasons, but after she found out they came in multiple colors the young woman got a little carried away.

One might think it was odd, for an injured individual to choose to sleep on the cold wooden floorboards when they were literally three feet from an actual bed. But to explain how she ended up there requires some back pedaling. Truth be told, she had never been good at dealing with stress. To be more precise, being around people who were stressed. In case it was not already clear, Kallie was quite the extrovert, and as such was very sensitive to the vibes of people around her. Being surrounded by such a grim mood put a great deal of strain on her, worse when those people were her friends. So while she did not fully understand what was wrong, the simple fact that they were suffering made her suffer as well. That was why she had resolved to cheer everyone up as best she could. And after much deliberation, she decided that the best way to do that was with a flag. Not just any flag though, their flag. It was a topic Aubrey had discussed with her in the past, and a project she had been more than happy to start. However, it seemed that her captain was far less partial to hearts than she was, and as such the actual process of designing a Jolly Rodger had been… lengthy, to say the least. A rough composite of ideas had eventually been decided on, but before she had a chance to actually make it she received a visit from her feathered friend Mikki. And then they spotted this big ship, and well. Things got really busy for a while. After returning from their exploits, she had spent several hours painting and perfecting the design before finally producing something she was satisfied with. It was only then that her exhaustion caught up with her, and promptly passed out alongside her completed work.

Which brought us back to the present. A small apple-haired girl, sleeping cozily in a nest of fabric. Or at least, she was sleeping up until the ringing bell gave her a rather rude awakening.

“WHARFLARGLEWHAT-I’m awake! I am awake!” Kallie shouted, bolting upright so abruptly that it flung her orange tinted goggles across the room. It took a good ten-fifteen seconds for her brain to come online and assign the metal chime that filled her ears any sort of meaning other than ‘That loud annoying thing’. When it did finally click, all her thoughts seemed to arrive at once. “OHNOIFELLASLEEPTHEFLAGCRAPCRAPCRAP.” Sent reeling back like a kid late who just realized they were going to be late for school, she snatched up the finished product and bolted out the door. Running on bare feet, she crossed the length of the ship in a frantic dash and burst out on the deck where the rest of the crew was gathering.

From the wild bedhead and wrinkled clothing, it was fairly obvious what she had been doing up until a moment before. But rather than dwell on that, or the fact that she had meant to show her design to everybody hours earlier, Kallie unfurled the flag and spread it out wide as her arms could manage. “Look! I made a thing!” Not exactly the most descriptive of sentences, but it got the job done. The point was that every pirate crew had to have a Jolly Rodger, and now they finally had one! That would cheer everyone up for sure. Grinning ear to ear at her already assumed success, she moved over to the mast, eager to make it official.

SPOILER: Click to show

“Here, let’s hang it up where everyone can see!” In her haste, the shandian had forgotten to take things like 'time' and 'place' into account when it came to unveiling a black flag, especially when pulling into a major port. Though, that was pretty much part for the course for Kal.

[Aubs]

“Buster Call! We must use a Buster Call!!!!”

Came the bark from Vice Admiral Sturgis, his fat face red with anger and his jowls jiggling. He was an old veteran of the war against piracy, but had never lacked the physical strength to do anything other than stuff his face. Conversely though he was an extraordinary sustainer, he could get anything anywhere at any time, and for that the World Government had promoted him. “Oh stop Martin, there is no way we are going to destroy Veldesh, you are letting your fear get the best of you.” Said the other voice from across the wide table. This one came from Vice Admiral Velli, a crafty old man who was so shrewd in fact he had not seen the front lines in over two decades. Just as old as his compatriot but perhaps a bit more fit, Vice Admiral William Velli was tasked with being responsible for all intelligence assets on the Peace Route. The title had once been spy master, but the Marines just called it intelligence. “We can’t blow something up on the Peace Route, the expectation is that the place is safe. If we ruin that credibility other pirates will follow. Besides, his Holiness Marquis is not pressing charges, oh to be wealthy enough to waste a ship like that.” Velli said, leaning back out of the dim light of the table. He was tall and thin, unlike our other member of the admiralty. Still combing a few wisps of hair he instead wore a standard issue ballcap, and as was his habit he changed it out for many different hats depending on the situation.

“Saint Alard has requested only that one member of the crew be charged. He says he requires one Justin “Traitor” Weeks to be brought before him personally for judgement.” Said the final of three voices.

“Yes, that makes sense, his Holiness Saint Alard is known for his grudges. He prefers death by sword for his criminals.”

“But if we do not respond to this attack we look weak, we might incur the wrath of the Nobles ourselves.”

“Oh please you old fool…”

“Enough.”

And immediately the two stopped, both begrudgingly looking between them to the head of the table as another marine leaned into the light. He was decades younger than the other two, but believe it or not he too was a Vice Admiral. The rising star of the Marines, a man who had gone from a simple foot Soldier to a Vice Admiral, the titled Protector of the Peace Route and the man charged with its highest command, that of the Grand Steel Flotilla; Vice Admiral Edward “Ghost” Shader.

He had close cropped black hair, but not so much that it looked newly cut, with long sideburns to match. “That is enough bickering. Remember gentlemen, you are here to advise me, and that is all. The decision is still mine to make, and it has already been done. A contingency of the 125th is on their way to Veldesh. They will use that as their staging point to search that section of Line. We will find this fledgling crew and deal with them, I want them brought in alive for questioning. With the Net in place they can’t slip past us again. Now see to your duties.”

---

Only a few minutes away from the Veldesh port the crew finally began to come together on the main deck. A few were noticeably missing, foremost being the helmsmen and impromptu navigator Ren Holiday. He of course had to bring them in, and his ability to maneuver the boat in tight spaces would be very important in finding them a hiding spot. Justin was still above the collection of new pirates, sitting in his usual perch fashioned to him as a room and a sentry hatch. Ponte, Marius and Ethan arrived at about the same time, all still dressed as though they had expected not to sleep much tonight. Ethan had only be absorbed into the crew a few hours beforehand, and Aubrey hadn’t even had the opportunity to speak with him and length yet and see what his old friend had been doing on that ship. This thought was coupled with a small twinge of guilt as well, as Justin had made it obvious to him that he had not spent enough time with the crew as of late. Aubrey knew it too, he had been too insular with his planning and left the crew guessing what would happen. He couldn’t afford to do that again.

Donner and Sean came up together, they had made rooms deeper in the ship than the bedrooms, one in the powder room and one in the storage held respectfully. For all the hurts that Sean had acquired over the last few weeks he seemed to have healed well, a smile painted across his face even now. Donner however was still a bit hurt, but his pain and been emotional in nature and that alone would take more time to heal. Again that small pinch of remorse came to Aubrey as he remember how the gunner had asked to know the plan, and how Aubrey had only said that they should have faith. Faith in who, him, for all he complained about not knowing his crewmates they could say the same. Yes, Aubrey had been trying to lead them, but that didn’t mean he had done a good job. The woman, Aria was not here yet, but perhaps that was understandable. She had been in the care of that World Noble all this time. And then finally, the crew’s one and only artist arrived, bundled in her hands a large working of cloth.

As she unfurled it the thing came into better view. The first iteration of a flag for the crew. A white skull seen from the side with wings. And damnit, despite all the melancholy that the White-Wings captain had been feeling he smiled. Maybe they were still with him after all. He was so deeply moved that he didn’t think twice about Kallie raising the black flag within eye shot of the sea walls and its guards.

---

Jaymi’s mouth twitched at the unpleasant conversation between the two men. The older man was fine, but the brute had terrible French. Alas, she would have to continue to deal with his stupidity, on the condition that he could in fact be of use. It was not every day you find a man in the Blues with a Devil Fruit, and the fact that they were after the same target had been a strange stroke of coincidence. It only lead her to believe that something bigger was afoot than was readily apparent, which usually meant it would be more lucrative to get to the bottom of it. Pieces never moved independently, something was pulling strings here, so she would have to track them down. Instead of addressing the fighter though, she spoke towards the butler with her response. Rich men took offense to things like that, and that always showed their insecurity, those insecurities were the easiest thing to latch on

“He is a pirate, on the Peace Route of all things. It will not be hard to track his movements. Over the last few days the Marines have been tense, so I can only imagine that they think he is coming here. We will have to start by figuring out this city, pirates will stick out here.”

As smart as Jaymi was however she was unaware of the attack on the Entitled, which meant she was unaware of just how much Marine presence there was going to be in the next few hours, let alone the next few days. This island would be locked down by noon, but perhaps that would make it all the easier to find the rat. Then, she would get this fool to beat him up and that would be the end of it. Presumably a pirate dumb enough to attack the Route would be foolish enough to pick a fight if prompted. His crew wouldn’t be much of a concern either, she hadn’t even heard about any of them.

“Well then, let’s go, we should be out there before the sun rises. People are dumb at this time of day.”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

[Jade]

Alistair smiled genially once again, giving Jaymi a swift bow as he straightened out his navy tie and smoothed out the sleeves of his white, collared shirt, both again in such contrast with the dirty, dingy room. "I could not agree more, mademoiselle. Greyson, sir, are you ready to get going?" The question was rhetorical, or at least taken that way by the Zoan user, who had already brushed past the older gentleman and practically broken down the door leading out onto the deck.

The rest of the ship was just as gross as the cabin the three of them had set up shop in - it was, after all, the captain's quarters. Greyson had outright refused to descend below deck to see what sort of squalid conditions the old captain of this vessel had let his crew live in after seeing the captain's own opinion of "comfortable living". And there he was, the old captain of this vessel; a large-bodied man in a heavy jacket that may have at one point been a color other than muddy brown, pulling at his matted beard. The tricorne hat with a faded and dirty skull and crossbones upon its front marked the man for a pirate, but it was the only symbol of his profession that remained upon this ship; the dirty, old Jolly Roger that the ship had borne had been among the first things destroyed.

The pirate captain turned, pulling at his matted, dirty beard, and immediately averted his gaze from the three passengers who had overtaken his vessel. The woman and the man in the suit were the brains, but it was the larger of the trio that made the pirate worry - Greyson's unnatural power and the strength it provided him had been enough to completely overtake his crew, who had never encountered a Zoan user like him.

"A-ah, good morning, you three! I'm sure y-ya already all knew this, but we set anchor in the port of Veldesh K-Kingdom late last night. Captain Barro the Mud King, as he had been called, stammered, getting down on one knee and bowing low to the three. His weapons, his ship, and his dignity taken from him by the trio in front of him, Barro was simply a husk of a pirate, a stammering fool who muttered empty threats directed to his so-called guests whenever he thought they couldn't hear.

"Ah, très bon," Greyson sneered down at the pirate, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned down over the smaller, dirty man, "you got us here in one piece. Now then, hate to leave you échoué, but I believe we're fini with your particular services." The pirate captain shot his eyes up, a blank look on his face as he stared at the French-speaking man. Greyson sighed, pulling at his face before translating. "Very good, stranded, done."

"O-o' course, o' course, sir..." Barro stuttered, pulling himself back up onto his boot-clad feet as Greyson walked past him, toward the edge of the deck closest to solid land. "But... But wait! Surely ya don't mean to leave me and the rest o' the boys stranded out here, in the middle of the Peace Route, do ya?! What with the M-Marines and all... Ye'll leave us for dead, just like that?"

"Our agreement, monsieur, was simply that you were going to provide us safe travel until we reached our, ahem, our cible. In payment," Alistair smiled, looking at the pirate captain like a grandfather would his darling grandchildren, "and in return, we wouldn't... Oh, how does the saying go? Make you walk the plank? Aye, that sounds right. Of course, your fate after those services were provided is of no concern to us. If you are so desperate to live, I am sure you'll manage. Rats such as yourself do seem to possess a certain... Truc for surviving against the odds."

Barro fixed the grey-haired butler with another blank expression, prompting Alistair to provide the translations. "... Target, knack. At any rate, sir, we do appreciate you so graciously lending us the use of your vessel, and we wish you the best of luck in the future. Your bounty is still low enough that Marines should pay you no mind, as long as you don't draw their attention. Bonne journée, sir."

Alistair glanced over to where his employer had been standing just a moment before, only to find that the raven-haired man had already vaulted himself down onto the pier below. The butler shook his head, and proceeded to take the more obvious way off the ship - the ladder that had been deployed sometime after they had arrived as means to get from the deck to the pier below. He did stop at the top, however, allowing Jaymi to descend before himself, where he put his left hand on the hilt of his blade, staring down Captain Barro - just in case the dirty old pirate decided that the two supposedly more vulnerable passengers would be worth attacking now that the Dinosaur Man had disembarked.

[Weeks]

It was evidently clear to Justin that the mood he was feeling right now was shared collectively by nearly the entire crew. For a few more moments it was quiet as the ship glided nearer and nearer to port, but in true White Wings fashion, Kallie would find a way to shake everything up a bit.

“Look! I made a thing!”

The chipper voice of Kallie burst through the sloshing of waves against the ship, breaking Justin’s gaze from the tall watchtowers of Valdesh back to the deck. It was already getting a little crowded now, with a few faces missing but not forgotten. Still, all of the sleepy looking folk were now looking to Kallie as she moved to the mast, Justin himself tilting his head in interest as she began to hoist up her latest project.

“Here, let’s hang it up where everyone can see!” she proclaimed, Justin smiling in delight as he saw the look of excitement on Kallie’s face.

Even the usually quick witted Justin seemed to have a brain fart in that moment as the black flag rose up further and further.

“That’s cute, what did she make this time?” he thought to himself, leaning forward ever so slightly to get a glimpse of the fluttering cloth from his high angle atop the mast.

And with squeaking wheels the flag continued to rise up, unfurling itself midway up the mast to reveal a white wing attached to the simple outline of a skull. Justin couldn’t help but grin just a little wider, the cherry of his cigarette glowing red hot as he inhaled. A satisfying moment that he would not soon forget.

“Not bad Angel Wings, not bad.” he muttered, his voice noticeably picking up in temperament.

The light wind lapping against the ship increased the effect as it continued up, unraveling itself in its glory to the world.

But as quickly as the feeling of pride and happiness had surged through the young man it was replaced almost instantly by panic and dread. His smile faded as his face turned into a blank emotionless expression. Something had just crossed his mind, something important that needed his immediate attention. In fact, it was so pressing that he stopped breathing in that instant, his brain going completely blank as his system crashed and he began to reboot. Even though he should have been able to put the pieces together much quicker the early morning had simply dulled his senses.

Looking back to the guard towers he started to feel a tightening of every muscle in his body, mostly in his face as he began to inhale. What should have been an alarming scream had become a gasp for the ages. His eyes bugged out, toes curled and mouth became so agape that a bird could nest in it. But that moment of silent panic passed as quickly as it had come, and all Justin could think of now was damage control.

By the time Justin had realized what Kallie was raising it was nearly too late. The flag was now just below his feet waving proudly below the enlarged crows nest that Justin called home. There was no time to think as he instinctively reached down for it finding that this may not have been the best course of action. His hands grabbed at the corners of the Jolly Roger as he fell, the flag jerking free of the main line. This of course set Justin off balance, and down he went until the inevitable slam to the deck, face first of course.

“OOOOW-WOW-YOWIE!” he yelped, tears already beginning to form in the corners of his eyes as he rolled about.

His nose was gushing blood through the Snipers fingers as he held his face, arching his back and kicking his foot repeatedly on the ground, making as much noise as humanly possible as he sobbed and pouted most likely to everyone’s relief and amusement.

“Holy...” said Marius, his face cringing as he looked from the First Mate to the Captain.

“That was interesting.” scoffed Ponte, apparently very amused by Justin’s pain.

What had been particularly hilarious is what Justin had fallen on. Some might say that the Captain and the First Mate had butt heads in the past figuratively, but now they could say it literally. The large pang that had been associated with Justin's landing had sounded like two pieces of metal slamming together.

While the blood on top of Aubrey’s head normally might have been his own under the circumstances, with that blasted devil fruit of his he might not have felt a thing. Justin of course had felt every bit of it, and most likely more so.

“Oh god…It hurts.” whimpered Justin, starting to calm down now as the pain started to subside little by little in short but agonizing waves.

“What hurts?” asked Marius, kneeling down to the cowboy and scratching his head, wondering what he could do to help.

“My everything.” he replied, getting a few snickers from around the deck.

“Kallie.” Breathed Justin, his clasped hands over his nose and mouth muffling his voice slightly.

“Why?” he asked, as if he had been betrayed yet again by the cute but deadly artist on the crew.

He looked to her with large puppy dog like eyes, watering to show the immense amount of pain he was in.

“Why must you always touch the things?”

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

SPOILER: Click to show

OH MY GOD I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS A WEEK AGO

Kallie had not expected to see Justin pop out of the Crow’s Nest like that, much less reach over and grab at her newly-minted flag as it
reached the top of the mast. For a moment, as he clutched at the edges of the cloth, the wind flared up just right as to give the impression that the first mate was flapping in the wind. In that instant, the young artist’s eyes sparkled brightly. “Ooo, wait. Justin can fly?!” She had not known that! In fact, she had never known anyone down on the Blue Sea that could fly like her folk could. But there was a first time for everything!

However, that instant of greatness lasted for just that: an instant. After which the new White Wings flag slipped free and the gangly man was sent sprawling for the deck with all the grace of a dropped rock. For a moment she moved to call out, maybe try and help somehow, but she saw that the captain had bravely placed himself in the path of Justin’s fall. ‘Ahh, that’s the captain for you.’ She nodded to herself, relieved. Aubrey was a dependable guy, after all. He’d definitely catch his falling crewmate.

And in did, in a sense. He caught Weeks. With his head. The noise that rang out reminded her of a banged gong. Nearly everyone in ear and eyeshot flinched. It would have been hard not to. “-ow. I think he might need more practice…” Kallie trailed off. In particular, he needed to work on his landings.

Groaning pitifully, the poor fellow lay flat out flat, clutching at a nose that was quickly bloodying. He looked around for a moment before his eyes settled squarely on her. “Why must you always touch the things?” The hurt in those puppydog eyes was unmistakable.

In less than an eyeblink, her expression twisted to mirror his, the beginning of tears welling in the corner of her eyes. “I-I’m sorry! Everyone was in a bad mood since yesterday and I thought ‘Ooo, I will make a thing! That will make them cheer up!’ and I got super excited ‘cause I thought it came out good and then I wanted to hang it up so everyone could see and-and… I thought I was helping…” Kallie’s words came out in a jumbled mess that was barely even understandable, but the sentiment was clear. She sort of slumped down to her knees in a gesture of defeat. Her attempt to help the crew had just made things worse.

----------

The morning found Laveau seated smartly on the front patio of a small café, a sign hung sideways above the door proclaiming it as ‘The Ruby Slipper. She had risen a good few hours prior, and was there to greet the sun as it rose groggily over the horizon, setting the water alight and dyeing the surrounding bay in rich shades of red-to-orange. Similarly, she had the benefit of watching the city wake around her. Just as the lampposts along the street gradually flickered off, houses began to flicker on. Doors squeaked; floorboards creaked; family pets barked, meowed, or just made general nuisances of themselves in order to get attention from their yawning family. Eventually, citizens mustered up the courage and clothing to walk out into the brisk morning air, exchanging a short nod or a brief word with anyone they passed on the sidewalk. Business lit up too, signs flipping in doors as they all prepared themselves for the day’s business. It was all quite fascinating to watch, from her little perch, wrapped in up the quiet solace of new dawn.

It was however a good bit less comfortable for the man sitting across from her, who had been freezing his ass off on a cold metal chair for the better part of an hour and a half but had been too shy to do anything that would break the silence, for fear of how the Voodoo practitioner might react to such an interruption. For reasons unfathomable to him even now, Elroy had abandoned his post as a Peacekeeper in order to help a group of grievously injured… laborers. That much would have been forgivable, he had been threatened with a grisly fate should he refuse. But rather than just get them to a lifeboat and bail as he rightly should have, he had chosen to stay and help, gone so far as to ride along with them to make sure they got to dry land safely. Those crafts weren’t exactly designed for long distance travel, and it had taken a bit of creative sailing to get them as far as Veldesh in one piece. Even after they docked, he was still fairly convinced that there would be some sort of armed force waiting to receive them. However, due to the markings on the boat and a few sets of papers tucked away in the captain’s cabin, Miss Laveau was able to convince them that they were in fact members of the illustrious Ahho family. As such they were given a noble’s welcome. Their ship was even redirected to a personal dock, one which was directly connected to a sizable manorhouse belonging to none other than Ahho Desunen IX (From what he understood, the man could very well own a house in every major port on the Peace Route). Their cargo was all carried inside, and the casualties from the The Entitled were taken to a nearby hospital and promised the very best care money could buy. He had gotten a warm shower, new clothes, even got to sleep on a bed the size of a small fishing boat. All on someone else’s coin, no less. The county boy in him had never experienced such luxury, and he half expected it all to come crashing down around his ears at any moment. But until then, damnit, he was going to enjoy the ride.

Though the restaurant staff had been surprised to see customers already seated when they first arrived, they were more than happy to take the pair’s orders. Seeing as the gruel they fed the low-ranking officers back on the cruise liner was only marginally better than cardboard, and that this was all coming out of some rich fop’s wallet, Roy decided to go all out. The first thing they brought out were a plate of shrimp and grits, hot enough that the steam rising from the bowl was enough to dispel the morning chill around him. He’d figured a port town would have nice fresh seafood, and man if he hadn’t hit the nail on the head. Now, he was not sure what they meant by ‘an amber beer and rosemary reduction’, but what he did know was that he must have looked like a chipmunk trying to fit as many of the tasty crustaceans as was humanly possible. It was only after several minutes of gorging himself that it occurred to him that he was in the presence of another human being, and a lady at that. He did his best to dab away the mess from his lips with a napkin and straighten in his seat, but Laveau did not seem to notice. The woman in question had a cup which smelled strongly of espresso in one hand, and holding in the other a newspaper she had picked up from a nearby stand. The distraction allowed a moment to examine her more closely, something the whirlwind of activity that had been the past twelve hours had prevented. Without that macabre mask, she looked a full magnitude less intimidating. Her face was pointed, angular like of a bird of prey, with distinguished cheek bones and a short downturned nose. An explosion of vibrant hair came from the crown of her head, a few shades darker than an orchid in bloom, which was secured in to a tight ponytail that hung down behind her chair. Her skin was dark, much darker than his own, save for the sections where scarring had turned them to a bright brown hue. She’d taken a cozy-looking sweater from one of the mansion’s many closets, and it seemed to fit her rather snugly. Though her ears were obviously pierced, she wasn’t wearing any jewelry. It took him a moment to realize that it had probably been taken from her when she came aboard. That sent another wave of shame crashing over him, and his eyes fell to the ground.

When he looked back up, he saw her looking back at him, and the burr in his stomach only seemed to dig deeper. “Oh! Um. Are… Did you order anything?” Rather than answer, Lavaeu glanced down at table and back again. There was a bowl of oatmeal sitting there in front of her, missing several spoonful’s, along with about half of a buttermilk biscuit. “Oh, yeah! Haha. Uh, guess I got caught up in mine. Bit hungrier than I thought I was. It’s good though, isn’t it?” He hoped his laughter sounded less forced to her than it did to him.

“It is.” The doctor replied coolly, taking another sip. Again the dreaded silence settled back down over him. He hated it, but at the same time he didn’t know what to say. It seemed like was this terrible awkwardness that tripped him up every time he tried. She had never said anything, but the guilt of it still weighed on Elroy.

He had been part of the crew, the ‘peacemakers’, in charge of keeping order. That was what he had been told at least back then. He’d just been some punk recruit spinning his wheels at a podunk marine base in the middle of nowhere. When some rich guy had offered him more money for one job than he would have made in an entire year, he should have known something was up. But he really was strapped for cash, and damn if the recruiter hadn’t been convincing. He could not have known what the real job was, what they’d make him do. And by the time he put things together, it was too late. They were already underway. And anyone who tried to step out of line would be punished, severely. There was even a sick sort of camaraderie to it, an us-vs-them mentality in place that reinforced the bond between the guards while dehumanizing the. Well. The slaves. It was an ugly word, but saying anything else would be insulting to the struggle those people had gone through. And regardless of how he felt or he objected to it, he’d help keep them there, in chains. Every time he looked at Miss Laveau he was reminded of it all over again. But at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to just leave her on her own, in a strange place all on her own. Hell, the thought scared the pants off of him. It just felt like he owed her something. But he was never going to be able to figure out how to help if he could hardly even talk to the damn woman.

Thankfully his self-flagellation was interrupted by the waitress, who deposited another round of plates in front of him. His main course was the ‘Three Little Pigs’ omellette, featuring applewood-smoked bacon, ham and sausage, and swiss cheese all wrapped up in fluffy eggy goodness. Laveau seemed to be getting some sort of fried catfish dish, which smelled positively divine, though that was pretty much par for the course at this point. The server moved to refill her cup, but she declined the offer, instead withdrawing what looked like a small sealed teapot before her bag below. After clearing a bit of space, she set it down and poured herself a cup from the container, the liquid looking to be a cloudy red-orange color that he was unfamiliar with. After she had taken a swig of the stuff, he asked her. “What is it your, um. Drinking?”

“This?” She echoed, swirling her cup idly. His interest in her concoctions was somewhat unexpected. “It’s a sap. Comes from a swamp island a great distance from here. The native insects gather it in great quantities. It is very good for you. Particularly for sailors, since it can be difficult to get proper nutrition on extended journeys.”

“Huh. Can I try some?” The woman did not answer for several seconds, eyeing him carefully. Then she placed her cup down on his side of the table, where he intercepted the vessel. Elroy brought it up close to his face for closer inspection. It shifted very slowly, thick, with a consistency somewhere between syrup and molasses. Passing it under his nose didn’t help much either; there really wasn’t much of a smell to either, save perhaps a vague hint of something woody. But again, he’d seen her toss it back fairly casually. And he’d try most anything once, so why the hell not? Throwing his head back, he took a swig as if it were a jello shot.

It tasted like sweetness and fire. For a brief moment, his tongue sent back reports of an almost candy-like flavor. But that message was quickly lost amid a sharp stinging pain, that only seemed to mount as seconds ticked by. “ACK. UGH. COUGH. WHAT.” The man’s immediate reaction was to attempt to cough it up, spit the stuff out, but it’s viscosity made doing so extremely difficult. There was not much he could do but wait, letting the white-hot goo progress down his throat and into his gut. Even after he had finished swallowing, the horrible sensation seemed to linger for an eternity, though it was probably only an objective minute or so. His mouth, throat, hell his damn face felt like it had gone numb. And Lord knows what it was going to do to the rest of his insides. When he recovered his senses, he realized he was laying against the pavement, still clutching the cup in his hand. With a herculean effort of will he managed to push himself up and back into his chair, slamming the mug back onto the table. “IT TASTES LIKE BATTERY ACID.” Every word felt as if it should be accompanied by a gout of flame as he spoke it.

“Oh, don’t be so over dramatic. The more bitter the pill, the better the medicine.” Lavaeu chided him, reclaiming her cup of awful devil juice. Though her voice sounded disapproving, her face was split into a smile and he had the distinct feeling she had been giggling at his display. That, if nothing else, lifted his spirits just a smidge. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[Aubs]

There was something about that old man, a butler he was not. Jaymi Walter meandered between the two men onto the cobblestone streets of Portsden. It wouldn’t have been too much to call the place lavish, with the calm aesthetic beauty of a place that did not know pain. Even at this hour of morning, where only the ill-natured were out and about, the streets seemed cozy. A thin veil of condensation had built up during the rather dark night. No real sunlight was piercing through the haze of the grey morning sky, the sun not yet high enough to cast otherworldly streaks of light through the myriad buildings and shiny stone cobbles. Behind closed doors faint glows told the story of hard working people up before the sun, but closer to the docks the ragged men hunched far back into a dingy alley here or there told a truer tale. Even in a prosperous place like Veldesh there was opportunity for Jaymi and her ilk. She would just have to make that she didn’t let the moment pass her by.

“Alistair, I suggest a moderately wealthy corner with a café or restaurant. We will need a place where people of different classes congregate.”

She was a bit nicer than she had intended, not the usual demanding tone of superiority that she took with others. Maybe Jaymi was beginning to accept Alistair as someone who could get things done. He had a sense of cunning that our vixen had not seen in quiet some time. Usually when two people like her and the butler spent time together something bad happened. Only time would tell who would cross who first. Jaymi had no doubt that she would end up winning that little battle. Almost casually the fingers of her left hand played with the naked body that formed the handle of her dagger. Then, just as mercurially she took her fingers off and pointed up at a sign perhaps half a block away.

A small wooden sign swung gently in the morning light, chipped by the sea air only around the corners. It was well cared for, painted when it faded and re-chiseled when it was worn. Delicate white lettering and a small red shoe sent a clear message. “The Ruby Slipper”…

That would be the perfect place.

---

Despite everything the crew laughed. That was without a doubt the most important ability Justin Weeks possessed. Even at the most dire of times, he made you laugh. In this case it was at his own expense, but it was still a watershed moment that Aubrey needed. The captain knew that he shouldn’t be laughing, it would only make his First Mate angry, hell an hour ago Justin had been screaming about how terrible Aubrey was, and now here he was laughing at the poor guy. Luck had conspired to place Aubrey directly under that flagpole, having just rung the summons bell. When Weeks ripped the new Jolly Roger off the mast and went careening toward the ground the Captain had been too preoccupied with his astonishment that he had not moved out of the way. So when Justin finally did stop moving he had the misfortune of doing so on top of Aubrey’s head. That loud “pang” sounded as if he had taken a hammer and hit an anvil, which was probably more accurate than most other descriptions of the pain Justin’s head was in now.

Sean, being the devout friend that he was reached down despite his growing collection of injuries and picked up Justin from behind the armpits. He made the task look simple due to his size and strength, but the gentle expression he wore said more about his concern for Justin overdoing it again. It had been awhile since Aubrey had seen Sean up and about, but he looked good. His massive frame, standing over 8 feet tall, was clothed in simple, black, steel-toed boots and olive drab cargo pants. He wore his old black shirt, the one with the Omega symbol on the front for his old company, which coincidentally had made this very ship. The final piece, his black jacket with gold tassels, very officer looking, was left open to flutter in the seaside air. Aubrey smiled back at his two friends, arm in arm as they were and prepared himself. It was time he came clean with his crew.

A sudden change in the air made most of the crew adjust their heads. At that very moment they were passing through the threshold of the seawalls and entering Portsden waters. Hopefully they townsfolk would not have seen their black flag flying, which was just now being rolled up by Marius carefully as to not ruin its pristine beauty. The most unlikely of sources spoke up first to little Kalliope, as most of the crew was still taking in the grey light behind the approaching city. “It’s perfect kid. Let’s fly it when we get out of here OK?” Ponte said pleasantly, smiling as he took his right hand and pushed up his thin-framed glasses. The crew smiled in unison, even Justin could be seen with a gleam in his eye at the comments. The sense of foreboding that had plagued them before was gone, Kallie really had helped more than the crew could ever really explain.

Still, they were no closer to finding a place to hide in the city than they had been, and as the sun rose up more people would move into the streets, and the game would be up. Fear began to creep back into the Captain, his desperate desire to hide almost taking him before the calmer part of his mind remembered that he had called this crew meeting to talk. “So…” He said, drawing back the attention of everyone. He wasn’t sure why it worked, shame really that Aubrey didn’t understand yet that the mantle of leadership wasn’t weighing him down but lifting him up.

“I am sorry.” Eyes grew sharper as he said the words, but Aubrey could only look down and continue his apology. “You have all shown trust in me, but I have failed with that trust but not telling you everything.”

Ponte and Marius shifted immediately. They had been the first to sign on to Aubrey’s mission as he comrades, and yet even they didn’t know what was happening. Was it angst or concern that drove their subtle movements? Aubrey would make sure to stop by the wheel and speak to Ren as well, knowing that the man would have his own strong opinion on this matter. And then, something akin to music began to pluck at the strings of Mr. Meador’s iron heart. It was the moment…he looked up at the faces of his friends. “This crew exists to change the world, to make it a better place. It exists to change our lots in life, and show that once and for all it is freedom that makes life worth living. If you do not want to be a part of that, or do not trust that we can get do that, then you may leave at your discretion. Thank you for everything you have done for us, for me.”

“It won’t be easy, there probably won’t be an easy moment from this day forward. But I promise that I will do everything in my power to accomplish your goals, if you help me accomplish mine. I want to change the world one island at a time.”

A small tear rolled down Aubrey’s face. It didn’t feel like it used to, hot but cold, no these tears felt like a marble of some kind sliding over glass. Little things like that made it hard for him to remember things like pain. Even his tears weren’t normal. Trying to compose himself he wiped the damn thing off, hearing it bounced and roll across the deck. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants to hide his tension Aubrey finished his sermon with his first and last standing order. “Those staying please stand by and we will come up with a plan. Everyone else, feel free to collect your things.”

When no one moved immediately the anxiety began to slip away from the Captain’s tired body. He wanted a minute or so, looking at everyone looking at each other. Wanting to capitalize on the moment he tried to start the planning process.

“First thing is first, we need to find a place to hide the ship and send someone out to look around town. Any suggestions?”

Under his breath Aubrey added something, the sides of his mouth turning up as he did so. “Thank you.”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

[Jade]

It was a short walk to the Ruby Slipper, a quaint little café with a very, well, red theme. Greyson practically burst into the building behind Alistair and Jaymi, and then cast a critical eye over the place; to the left was a very tavern-like bar, with stools lining it on the side accessible to patrons and an open kitchen behind it, to the right were a handful of booths, and, in between, a series of small tables. The place was filled with only the earliest of risers, which prompted the Zoan user to relax his fists; a grand total of ten other people filled the small café.

Three of the patrons had seated themselves at the sorry excuse for a bar - two grouchy-looking older men sitting on opposite ends, and one woman with a half-asleep look plastered on her face sitting in the middle of the bar, sipping at coffee and carrying on a quiet conversation with the tall, red-haired woman behind the bar. The booth furthest from the entrance had three people in it, talking and laughing loudly enough to all but drown out the conversation taking place at the bar, while another seemed to hold just one person, facing away from the door. And, finally, a small table for two was occupied by what the raven-haired brawler could only assume were lovers, making cute faces at each other and laughing.

The woman behind the counter looked over at the three guests, quickly scanning over each one of them with emerald eyes, and then smiled. “Well, good morning. Sit wherever you like; I'll be right over.”

Before Greyson could so much as take another step forward, his butler spoke up. "Ah, thank you very much, mademoiselle." He bowed his balding head a little in the direction of the woman before smoothly walking over to a booth. There were a few scraps of trash pushed underneath the benches on either side, and Greyson had to push the bench he was going to sit on back a foot or two - thank goodness it wasn't bolted to the ground - just to sit down, and it was still rather uncomfortable. The bigger, younger man rolled his eyes and scowled as he heard Alistair laugh softly, apparently taking some measure of enjoyment out of his former employer's misfortune.

But it lasted only a moment, and then Alistair had calmly sat himself down opposite the slightly hunched over so-called gentleman, folding his own wrinkly hands in front of him on the table, leaving enough room for Jaymi to sit next to him if she wished to. "Should we be wasting time like this?" Greyson growled at the grey haired man across from him, looking positively murderous, and not without good reason.

Since leaving their home on Stetson Island, Greyson had been hellbent on finding this Aubrey Meador. Even Alistair, who knew his former employer best, couldn't quite figure out why this had become his mission; asking the raven-haired man about it gave the older gentleman all of the satisfaction of interrogating a particularly stubborn brick wall. "It is not wasting time, sir. You may have the muscle, but, please, leave the strategy to me." Alistair flashed a wicked smile across the table, and then turned to face the red-haired woman with a pleasant look on his face. "I'll just have a glass of water, perhaps with a bit of lemon, if you have any. My angered friend here would like to have some coffee - though, to save you on walking time, perhaps you could bring us an entire pot? We may like some food later, but for now, we are fine. Thank you." The red-haired woman, who Greyson suddenly decided must be the owner of the establishment, blinked once at the rapid-fire request, and then nodded, jotting it down quickly on a little notepad she had drawn from the pocket on her red, plaid skirt-apron.

“Anything for you, miss?”