Thirty-Six Bells: [Written/Action]

[simplestgift]

[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!

Comments

[deadpoet]

Sometimes. Other times, I like a good honest chap too. They just aren't as entertaining.

[simplestgift]

Ah. And what of pirates?

[Yes, that was pointed.]

[deadpoet]

[He doesn't need more than one guess to know why.]

I prefer the lady pirates. Redheaded and buxom.

[simplestgift]

[...So that is why Spike and Jack don't get along. They're too alike.]

Hm. Never known a woman's chosen occupation to affect either her hair color or her bosom.

[deadpoet]

[It's the same problem he shares with Angel.]

Haven't got around to acquainting myself with any other pirate ladies. Save the one you're fancying to marry.

[Yes, he worked that bit out right off.]

[simplestgift]

...Yes. Not redheaded, may I point out.

[deadpoet]

No, she'd be a brunette, wouldn't she? That strikes me as more your fancy, mate.

[Dawn is a brunette.]

[simplestgift]

[Yes, and the last time he spoke with you, you threatened to eat him if he hurt Dawn.]

Yes, you seem to have inferred that quite readily from one woman.

[deadpoet]

[So he's heard.]

That would be two, mate. Basic arithmetic.

1/3

[simplestgift]

[simplestgift]

Done

[simplestgift]

...I might have another talk with Buffy after this.

[deadpoet]

Now don't go bloody well blaming Buffy for it. I knew about it before, didn't I? Threatened to off you myself if you hurt her. I'm damn well entitled to know what's happened to me before.

[simplestgift]

...I thought you didn't remember.

[deadpoet]

I don't remember it, no. But I've a right to any memories those Malnosso bastards took from me, don't I?

[simplestgift]

...Can't argue there. Sorry, that's really all I remember of you.

[deadpoet]

Good. [Only now that detour managed to run off with his point, which was to try and make Archie feel like a real heel, which was his ultimate goal. He'll have to find a way to circle back to that.] For the record, mate, the threat still stands.

[If she comes back. And she knows.]

[simplestgift]

As much control as I have over that. What am I to do?

[deadpoet]

See that you don't go for a third. [Another brunette.] Three makes for a pattern.

[simplestgift]

Clearly Buffy hasn't told you very much about me.

[deadpoet]

I know enough that it wasn't a full sodding year before you found yourself a new bird to marry. That says all I need to know.

[simplestgift]

I wasn't marrying Dawn.

[deadpoet]

Malnosso saw to that, didn't they?

[simplestgift]

The Malnosso have jack-all to do with anything.

[deadpoet]

They plucked her away before you had your chance to pop the question. Seems plenty relevant.