(no subject)
Who: Stephen Maturin, Jack Sparrow
When: [backdated] Day 52, night
Where: The Black Pearl Wicked Wench
What: A doctor and a pirate. What could go wrong?
Rating: PG-13 (probably)
Stephen Maturin followed the companionway down to the gun deck of the Wicked Wench.
Once again, he was inclined to be quite grateful to Captain Sparrow. The man had armed him, and with a very fine sword at that. He had then lured those strange creatures to the beach, where the rest of them could engage this curious foe. Now, he had offered up his vessel for the doctor to have a few moments to himself.
The patients on the Empress were well situated. Their wounds were tended, either wrapped or sewn where need be, and he had advised the more tense of the lot to a glass or two of brandy. Still, whether they drank or not wasn't his concern. He had declared himself off duty tonight unless dire complications arose.
Maturin looked around the gun deck of the ship and frowned briefly. He wasn't sure where he could take his rest. The sick bay, perhaps?
Somewhere private, even if there were no others on board save the captain and himself. He reached into his jacket pocket, once again checking the bottle of laudanum that remained there. He needed it, certainly. Otherwise, he would not sleep at all tonight.
He heard footsteps on the companionway and turned, nodding politely to the man coming down-- the ship's captain.
"Sir. Thank you again for inviting me aboard."
When: [backdated] Day 52, night
Where: The Black Pearl Wicked Wench
What: A doctor and a pirate. What could go wrong?
Rating: PG-13 (probably)
Stephen Maturin followed the companionway down to the gun deck of the Wicked Wench.
Once again, he was inclined to be quite grateful to Captain Sparrow. The man had armed him, and with a very fine sword at that. He had then lured those strange creatures to the beach, where the rest of them could engage this curious foe. Now, he had offered up his vessel for the doctor to have a few moments to himself.
The patients on the Empress were well situated. Their wounds were tended, either wrapped or sewn where need be, and he had advised the more tense of the lot to a glass or two of brandy. Still, whether they drank or not wasn't his concern. He had declared himself off duty tonight unless dire complications arose.
Maturin looked around the gun deck of the ship and frowned briefly. He wasn't sure where he could take his rest. The sick bay, perhaps?
Somewhere private, even if there were no others on board save the captain and himself. He reached into his jacket pocket, once again checking the bottle of laudanum that remained there. He needed it, certainly. Otherwise, he would not sleep at all tonight.
He heard footsteps on the companionway and turned, nodding politely to the man coming down-- the ship's captain.
"Sir. Thank you again for inviting me aboard."