(no subject)
A normal person would just walk through the door and head for the front desk, but we're severely lacking in any sort of normality here. Instead, the door inches slowly open, as if whoever's pushing it hopes no one notices they're arriving, and in swaggers a sopping wet pirate, saltwater dripping from his dreadlocks, beard, and clothes. Like any good seadog, he's dressed in a mishmash of various 17th-century garb, his boots leaving puddles of water on the floor, and in his belt is tucked a pistol and an old, dinged-up sword.
He looks around the hotel lobby, placing a finger to his lips pensively as he searches-- then he immediately brightens and rushes not to the desk but to the bar, leaning over the counter and grabbing a bottle of rum. Uncapping it and taking a deep swig, he settles down against the bar. For a filthy, salt-stained thief, he's got a charmingly rakish grin.
"'lo, there," he says, already slurring a little. "'ve I missed anything, then?"
The re-introduction of Captain Jack Sparrow! Because he has this tendency to end up back on desert islands even after he's escaped them.
He looks around the hotel lobby, placing a finger to his lips pensively as he searches-- then he immediately brightens and rushes not to the desk but to the bar, leaning over the counter and grabbing a bottle of rum. Uncapping it and taking a deep swig, he settles down against the bar. For a filthy, salt-stained thief, he's got a charmingly rakish grin.
"'lo, there," he says, already slurring a little. "'ve I missed anything, then?"
The re-introduction of Captain Jack Sparrow! Because he has this tendency to end up back on desert islands even after he's escaped them.