simplestgift | Thirty-Six Bells: [Written/Action]

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Thirty-Six Bells: [Written/Action]

[Written:]

In light of my new duties as first lieutenant of the LES Britannia, impending matrimony, and being bloody terrible at running a foodhouse, I shall soon retire as the owner of Cloud Nine. I'd like to continue to work a few shifts, of course, but the club will need new management. Which brave soul will shoulder the task?

-A. Kennedy

[Action only: He is enjoying the last night of the voyage, simply meditating upon the lovely roll of the ship beneath him. It's chilly out, and he can see his breath, but he doesn't mind, wrapped up tightly in his heavy wool greatcoat. Softly he sings a song swallowed by the night, evidenced mainly by the mist of it in the air around his lips.]

The maiden, oh, the maiden oh.
The sailor loves the maiden, oh!
So early in the morning,
The sailor loves the maiden, oh!
A maid that is young,
A maid that is fair,
A maid that is kind and pleasant, oh,
So early in the morning,
The sailor loves the maiden, oh!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Or so we're allowed to think. Either way, Kennedy -- you'd best sound out Elizabeth on it all sooner rather than later.

...I know. I believe the question would be "when" more than anything, if we've a choice about it.

I'm...turning one year older soon, me. [Tomorrow, actually.] Gets a man thinking about his progeny. 'Bout posterity and carrying on and so forth.

Oh come now. The legendary Jack Sparrow is immortal already.

.....Right. RIGHT! 'Course he is! Live forever, him!

[Though he'd given up on ACTUALLY living forever long before.

And now is probably the best time to ignore the fact that Kennedy and all the future-types had never heard of him.]

'Sides. I've got a skull to train up, now.

[Murray. He's going to teach the skull a thing or two about proper pirating.]

And Murphy's been pining. Spike's living in the house. No time for other things!

Edited 2012-09-19 19:40 (UTC)

Except commissioning your kilt, apparently. Are you even a Scotsman by descent at all?

Well that bears thinking about....

[His father COULD have been part-Scots. It was certainly very possible.]

It's certainly very possible! I do enjoy Scotch....

That is imperative to one's existence above ground.

I've been known to push haggis around on my plate to make it look as though I've eaten some.

What about oats and fried things?

Oats are for ponies. Fried things are alright!

Englishmen.

You think so?

Even if you weren't, would you even know what tartan to wear?

Black. With a lighter black over a grey-black in the background.

You made that up.

Aye! I made it up! It's all made up!

[A chuckle.]

Well, I'm afraid it doesn't quite work that way, Jack. Although I suppose I have as much right as any in Luceti to make you an honorary Scot.

'Twould make my heart glad, Kennedy. And my tartan legitimate.

Very well. With a wave of my hand, an honorary Scot you are, of the Sparrow clan.

Ha! Very clannish, we Sparrows! [Or at least Grandmama's family had been, horrid thing.]

Obliged, Kennedy-me-laddie! Now I'm a Scotsman!

Despite blood ties, yes. Although I suppose you're enough like a relation to me that we can count that.

Edited 2012-09-19 20:33 (UTC)

My blood? A mystery, really. Though I have grown to look at you as one of my clan, mate.

Edited 2012-09-19 20:36 (UTC)

Then I...I suppose that means I'll have family at my wedding after all.

[It's spoken lightly, but with a hesitant sincerity.]

Kennedy.

You do know, mate, that without McCoy here? You'd be my best mate.

If it were MY wedding, at the least.

[This bromance moment brought to you all courtesy of rum.]

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