"I must say, as pretty as you are, those are some horrible clothes to display yourself in, my dear Lady."
It's been some time since they spoke, but Barbossa's voice still has the same grating quality, and his big pirate boots still make no sound when it's dramatically appropriate. Though he doesn't expect to be able to surprise the Devil, of course.
"I have me own, thank you." He raises a mug of watered-down rum. Buying his own drinks has long been a custom for Barbossa. One that has spared him many problems.
"Saint Patrick's Day. In the United States it's seen as an excuse to consume alcohol, dress gaudily and be irresponsible in other ways." She takes a pint of stout for herself, then. "Mix drinks in abundance with a liberal moral attitude, and you have most of the Seven deadly Sins happening: two or three at once even."
To Ray, no one is what they seem, but even so, he is hard pressed not to whistle at the woman, and her outfit. Nonetheless, he settled next to her, and peers at her, grinning. Why not?
"I'll take a hard whiskey, straight. And what will you have?"
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It's been some time since they spoke, but Barbossa's voice still has the same grating quality, and his big pirate boots still make no sound when it's dramatically appropriate. Though he doesn't expect to be able to surprise the Devil, of course.
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"What would you like to drink, my dear?"
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"What holiday, if I may inquire?"
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"I'll take a hard whiskey, straight. And what will you have?"
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Two glasses are filled, and one is offered. "Here, dear."
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In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, as he tossed back the drink and ordered a second, letting his eyes drink in her rather naughty-ish outfit.
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Yes, posing to be admired. "So, did we meet before? Or this is a wonderful, delicious first time?"
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