Characters:
wheresmyrum and
vatheon Location: the plaza
Time: Afternoon
Style: fiiirst...? :D
Status: OPEN LIKE THE CAPTAIN HE IS.
[At first, everything is a giant blur to Jack. He sits up, jingling as he does because of his fair amount of accessories, eyes narrowing with confusion. He's wet, he's lost -- lost? No, he doesn't get lost.]
Just what in the hell is this?
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Yes. Look at him. Smell that nasty 'I have no personal hygiene' smell.]
What the hell kind of clothes are those, lad?
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It's called fashion. You might want to look it up. Along with hygiene, maybe.
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[There's an awkward pause, as if he's thinking something over.]
I'm a pirate, what d'you expect?
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[He either ignores the emphasis or doesn't get it.]
[He holds out his right hand and pulls his sleeve up, revealing a 'P' branded on the inside of his forearm.]
This good enough for you? Because honestly, here, it doesn't seem to matter.
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Lots of people have very strange body modification habits. For all I know you could have done that to yourself. Just because. [Behold, the sceptic]
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I'm a very skilled swordsman.
Now that we've gotten that cleared up, mind telling me where I can dry myself off?
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But if you are one, I'm sure you can deal with being a little wet.
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[Pause.]
Sort of.
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