Post by Armani on May 24, 2011 10:06:24 GMT -5
It wasn't like things had been completely serene aboard the Deck of Cards; especially with a man like Mad Jack as its captain. His constant yelling and way of firing off orders made sure that any sort of lasting moment of quiet was quickly broken. Even by his older memories of being at sea on other vessels, there were few that could match the intensity and sheer volume of this man all the time. And it certainly made reading a frustrating ordeal. Particularly today. It seemed like Mad jack had something to scream about every time he started a new page or article. It was like the sound of a paper turning over was the cue for this man to find anything to scream out at the top of his lungs.
Scruffy's demeanor never caused him to break face though. The shouting and screaming that came along with this vessel disturbed his reading at point, but due to his personality, he remained in an composed and uninterrupted form. Any sign of a commotion was merely met with a slightly raised eyebrow of aggravated wonderment as to why everything was so damn important to this Captain. Still reading continued, through muffled orders, a surprise gunshot and even men jumping down steps and sprinting through the small, confining space of the hull.
"Yah know, yar really luckeh bein' in this 'er cage. It's worse up on deck, mate."
The newspaper never left its position, as the old man refused to be bothered at this time. He was reading up on current affairs and the voice of one lone sailor, particularly on a crew where he could barely find a person he liked, wasn't going to be enough to make him break his reading. Instead, a simple flick of the newspaper to straighten it after its top began to fold over was all he would give in response.
It was failry easy to tell that something was about to go down now. The sound of heavy equipment moving to his sensitive ears meant that cannons were being repositioned. He had heard the sounds enough in his long lifetime that it had become a registered noise saved within his memory. There would be no point in trying to read now. If a battle was going to be taking place and cannon fire was seemingly a certainty, no matter how well he could make himself concentrate, this type of situation would be impossible to overcome. His newspaper began to fold in his hands. As he did so absentmindedly, a couple of small papers fell to the floor from within its pages. A quick loosening of his grip to fold it over seemed to be enough to let them loose and he slowly but surely bent over to regain what was lost.
A couple of them had been turned over, but there was one that had stayed facing towards him clearly identifying what the rest of them were. Covering most of the page was the picture of a young man in a bright hard hat. Boldly printed was the name, "Torin" and a small bounty of a man from the Blues. More impressive yet was the next bounty as he took a good hard look at the picture of "Typhoon Swell", Jack Dancer. Of course, in his life, he had seen pictures of men with even higher bounties than this, but his picture still called out to be looked at a little more thoroughly, telling himself that this was a man worth identifying. Finally the last page was flipped over and revealed to Scruffy; a small time bounty for a pirate named Kane Nakamura. Bright red hair, seemingly close to orange, grabbed the janitor's attention before filing the name away in his memory banks and placing the picture back in the newspaper it begin in.
It felt good to still be able to read and see what was going on in the world, and gratefulness for his newspapers was always readily available, though not well expressed. With his eyebrow covered eyes scanning the hull and its movement now towards a fight, the old man sat still as a rock and took in all he could from his surroundings. The way the men moved, their preparations, their complaints and expressions, the sizes of the cannons and their ammunitions; all of it was being noted silently by a man who had spent much of his aging life watching. But even with all of his scrutinizing, there was still very little in the way of telling what would happen next.
Scruffy's demeanor never caused him to break face though. The shouting and screaming that came along with this vessel disturbed his reading at point, but due to his personality, he remained in an composed and uninterrupted form. Any sign of a commotion was merely met with a slightly raised eyebrow of aggravated wonderment as to why everything was so damn important to this Captain. Still reading continued, through muffled orders, a surprise gunshot and even men jumping down steps and sprinting through the small, confining space of the hull.
"Yah know, yar really luckeh bein' in this 'er cage. It's worse up on deck, mate."
The newspaper never left its position, as the old man refused to be bothered at this time. He was reading up on current affairs and the voice of one lone sailor, particularly on a crew where he could barely find a person he liked, wasn't going to be enough to make him break his reading. Instead, a simple flick of the newspaper to straighten it after its top began to fold over was all he would give in response.
It was failry easy to tell that something was about to go down now. The sound of heavy equipment moving to his sensitive ears meant that cannons were being repositioned. He had heard the sounds enough in his long lifetime that it had become a registered noise saved within his memory. There would be no point in trying to read now. If a battle was going to be taking place and cannon fire was seemingly a certainty, no matter how well he could make himself concentrate, this type of situation would be impossible to overcome. His newspaper began to fold in his hands. As he did so absentmindedly, a couple of small papers fell to the floor from within its pages. A quick loosening of his grip to fold it over seemed to be enough to let them loose and he slowly but surely bent over to regain what was lost.
A couple of them had been turned over, but there was one that had stayed facing towards him clearly identifying what the rest of them were. Covering most of the page was the picture of a young man in a bright hard hat. Boldly printed was the name, "Torin" and a small bounty of a man from the Blues. More impressive yet was the next bounty as he took a good hard look at the picture of "Typhoon Swell", Jack Dancer. Of course, in his life, he had seen pictures of men with even higher bounties than this, but his picture still called out to be looked at a little more thoroughly, telling himself that this was a man worth identifying. Finally the last page was flipped over and revealed to Scruffy; a small time bounty for a pirate named Kane Nakamura. Bright red hair, seemingly close to orange, grabbed the janitor's attention before filing the name away in his memory banks and placing the picture back in the newspaper it begin in.
It felt good to still be able to read and see what was going on in the world, and gratefulness for his newspapers was always readily available, though not well expressed. With his eyebrow covered eyes scanning the hull and its movement now towards a fight, the old man sat still as a rock and took in all he could from his surroundings. The way the men moved, their preparations, their complaints and expressions, the sizes of the cannons and their ammunitions; all of it was being noted silently by a man who had spent much of his aging life watching. But even with all of his scrutinizing, there was still very little in the way of telling what would happen next.