(Untitled)

[slightlymonkish]

When the door opens, it opens to a warm and gorgeous San Francisco landscape. A man who is yelling something down the road while walking backwards enters.

"I told you, Natalie, I don't -- "

And that's when the door closes.

Monk stands there and stares at it for a few moments, just to make sure it doesn't go anywhere. He counts, silently: One, two,

Comments

[pirate_gibbs]

Gibbs notices the newcomer. What an oddly dressed man. A colonist from some farawy port, no doubt. But one with some form of paper money...maybe someone to convince to cover the bill today. (Not that Gibbs has ever been able to talk his way into such things. That's Jack's purview.

"Good day, sir," he says.

[slightlymonkish]

"Morning," Monk says with a half-grin, trying his hardest to not to say OH MY GOD MAN TAKE A SHOWER FOR THE LOVE OF --

-- he bites his tongue. Literally.

Ow.

[pirate_gibbs]

"Is something wrong?" Perhaps, this being a bar, the man is already half-drunk. Or cursed with fits?

[slightlymonkish]

Oh, he's cursed with something, alright.

"Not at all," Monk says through his teeth, forcing a smile. His cheeks are starting to hurt. "Nice day, isn't it?"

[pirate_gibbs]

"Aye, outside it is. Fine day for sailing." Gibbs defines a "fine day for sailing" as any lackig a hurricane or nor'easter. The Scottish cold dones't bother him. "In here...it's a bit bright for my tastes. And that serving wench seems to be gone." For some reason, he smiles when he mentions her.

[slightlymonkish]

A sailor! That... explains it. Sort of. No offense to sailors.

His jaw loosens a little so he can talk normally. "You can order drinks straight from the Bar," he says, patting the bartop somewhat affectionately. "She's magic."

[pirate_gibbs]

"She's magic. I know this place is magic, but surely y're just having fun with me. It's a bar, and in bars, peole serve drinks." Even after all he's seen, he refuses to believe in something coming from nothing.

[slightlymonkish]

"But this isn't your ordinary bar," Monk points out. "At the end of the universe, anything's possible. Had to learn that lesson myself. Here, watch.

Bar, can you get me a drink for this fellow?"

Sure enough, a glass appears. A glass full of rum! It's like she knows.

[pirate_gibbs]

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he mutters. And immediately takes the rum. "Jack should have said something.

"And I can get...anything? As long as I can pay?" Now Norrignton's cyptic words make some sense.

[slightlymonkish]

A nod. "Yeah, she'll keep a tab for you. If you can't pay, you can always pick up odd jobs around here. I take it you're Bound?"

[pirate_gibbs]

"If you mean I can't leave, then, aye, I'm Bound. But it's good to know I can at least get a tab. My current job...it has some drawbacks, monetarily speaking, at the moment." Lake-locked pirate ships are of little use for piracy.

[slightlymonkish]

"I see."

Monk eyes the man for a few moments. "I take it you don't sail for any sort of militia?"

[pirate_gibbs]

"Militias are on the land, sir." Sureyl a colonist would know that. "I once sailed for the King, but found that to be less pleasing that His Majesty's Royal Pains in the Bottom would have led me to believe. I prefer to operate indenpendently." While he's not ashamed of being a pirate, he doesn't necessairly advertise it, either.

[slightlymonkish]

For a second, Monk deadpans.

Then, once more, "I see."

It sinks in, sinks in, sinks in and then:

"So you're a pirate?"

This is said with an almost fanboyish tone. Monk loved pirates when he was little, even if they were really dirty and not nice. They got to collect - yes, "collect" - shiny things!

[pirate_gibbs]

Gibbs smiles coyly. "Aye. Serving under Captain Jack Sparrow himself." He knows that here, there's little to fear from the law. Or at least that's how Jack has made it sound. "There's not finer pirate or ship in the Caribbean.

"Or at least, there was."

[slightlymonkish]

Monk looks both impressed and intrigued!

"Oh?"