Back where Lenny lives, Gibbs the Pirate might be mistaken for a homeless man.
The inhabitants of Pickax mean nothing by it, it's just not everyday you see a full-fledged pirate (at least, not an authentic 'Insert Color Here-Beard' brand of pirate).
Oh sure, Pickax, in it's hey-day, played host to many a way-ward pirate, but that was over a hundred years ago.
Lenny watches the room. Not too many up yet. 'Course, it is still technically the crack of dawn.
Lenny watches the man closely. "Mornin'. Coffee?" Lenny's got a fresh pot in hand- straight up, the hard stuff- none of that de-caf stuff the yuppies back home tried to get put on tap.
Roderick could certainly use some food, as his stomach has not stopped growling since his arrival. It's been a while since his last decent meal - he may, perhaps, even assume it to be years since - and he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal... well, ever.
When he walks to the bar, he looks relieved. There's a person tending today!
"Good day," he says, squinting at the board. "... Lenny."
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The inhabitants of Pickax mean nothing by it, it's just not everyday you see a full-fledged pirate (at least, not an authentic 'Insert Color Here-Beard' brand of pirate).
Oh sure, Pickax, in it's hey-day, played host to many a way-ward pirate, but that was over a hundred years ago.
Lenny watches the room. Not too many up yet. 'Course, it is still technically the crack of dawn.
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When he walks to the bar, he looks relieved. There's a person tending today!
"Good day," he says, squinting at the board. "... Lenny."
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"Yep- It's a good day alright. How can I help you?"
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"I am not sure," he says, glancing up and down the length of the bar. "What sort of food is served here?"
His stomach growls. Loudly.
"... I -- am afraid I have not eaten in quite a while."
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"Oh, Bar'll give you anything you'd like. What's your favorite food?" Lenny grins, placing a glass on Bar's top in front of Roderick.
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