flavour of the day and grapefruit with malt and fresh peaches
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: What’s In a Name?
Rating: PG
Challenge: FOTD: fanfaronade, Grapefruit #12: in the gutter
Toppings/Extras: malt, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 1,121
Summary: A fairly average night in Rolliver’s Tavern.
Notes: Fanfaronade: Swaggering; empty boasting; blustering manner or behaviour; ostentatious display. Grapefruit PFAH: Jacob : she was buzzin’ all over me. Peaches: Tonight someone reminds you of something you forgot.
Rolliver’s was a seedy but warm-spirited tavern that threw open its doors for anyone and everyone. Discussion and roaring laughter always filled the atmosphere over the jumpy notes of a fiddle or accordion. It was lit in hues of amber, sawdust spread over the floor to keep it easy to clean, double-tiered and always bustling.
Contrary to popular belief, Captain Jacob Graham didn’t often get himself royally legless. Not for any sensible reason, of course-after years of tipping copious amounts of alcohol into himself, it wasn’t that easy any more, besides which he tended to get the shit kicked out of him when he got drunk and that just wasn’t dignified. He loved a good brawl but preferred them when he was actually swinging in the right direction. He was rarely sober but it wasn’t often he got to the stage he could barely walk.
Well, relatively speaking.
“The Lioness was a wunnerful little schooner,” Jacob said with a wild wave of his hand, slurring so impressively that the sentence came out as practically one word. He and some of his crew were tucked into a corner of Rolliver’s around a circular and wonky-legged table, dotted with flagons and small purse-like sacks. One of these had been opened and tipped, revealing a spread of sparkling jewellery. Fake, Jacob knew at a glance, even when drunk-but convincing enough for most. “We took ‘er apart.”
“She had nice bronze cannons and all,” Pete nodded sagely, his face as flushed as Jacob’s from the night of drinking behind them. “Took ‘em, of course. Easy, eh?”
“Easy as anythin’,” Jacob confirmed, arms sliding around the girl on his lap. She was a pretty girl; long brown hair, bright red lips. “We walked all over ‘em as always. “La Cirque… she’s my baby. A bloody good ship. A bloody good ship.” He took another long draught of his drink while the girl on his lap picked up a gleaming ring that was supposedly sapphire.
“How lovely!” she giggled. She turned to face him. “Can I try it on?”
“Feel free, darlin’,” he said in a low voice while one of his hands squeezed her tight thigh through her puce-and-white dress. She squirmed happily, slipping the elegant ring onto her finger and then waggling her hand, watching it catching the light.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed brightly.
“Keep it,” Jacob said generously, which made Pete shoot him a sharp look. Jacob ignored his boatswain and instead concentrated on the delighted smile on the young woman’s face as she admired the ring on her hand. Small amounts of powder rose from her heaving bosom as she giggled again.
“Thank you!” she said, and then kissed him on the bridge of his nose, which had a sharp and still-vivid cut upon it from the battle earlier that day. Jacob’s large, tanned hand was moving towards her bottom when she spoke again, this time into his ear alone: “I bet you’re wanted by a lot of people…”
“Oh, truly!” he agreed, nodding lollopingly, curls shaking out as he grinned. His mop of hair, sliced out of his face by a thin band, was mostly brown but looped with honey-coloured ringlets where the sun hit most on the top of his head.
“Now you’re wanted by one more,” she murmured with another laugh and another puff of powder into his face from her exposed chest, the square-necked bodice so tight it seemed to cut into her flesh.
“What’s yer name, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing a strand of her hair over her neck.
“Cammy,” she replied prettily.
Jacob recoiled so suddenly that he nearly threw her straight off of his lap and onto the floor, making her squeal and wrap her arms around his neck. She was still grinning, thinking that he was simply fooling around. That theory was proven wrong as Jacob suddenly put the palm of his hand to her forehead and prised her off of him in a fairly undignified manner. His hand came away layered in even more powder.
“That’s a nice name,” he said brightly and promptly turned away from her. Having been forced to stumble to her feet, Cammy turned to face him with a frown on her face.
“Jacob?” she demanded and the captain suddenly rose to his feet.
“Shut it, you!” he said, nearly keeling over sideways after standing too quickly. He staggered around the table. “I just gave you a ring! D’yer know when the last time I gave a ring to someone named Cammy was? Never!”
He tripped over and landed on his face.
Rolling his eyes mightily, Pete rose to his own feet and made his careful way over to the captain, pulling him up from the tavern floor. Jacob set to work clumsily dusting sawdust from his rumpled buccaneer’s jacket with as much dignity as he could muster while Pete turned back to poor Cammy.
“Never mind him,” Pete called to her, struck by inspiration. “Men’s troubles. Sell that ring on for a good price, mind!”
Then, grabbing the swaying captain by the shoulder, he steered him out of Rolliver’s and into the cold, leaving the rest of the crew behind.
“Well!” Jacob said indignantly, stumbling over invisible obstacles and wheeling this way and that. Pete, only a little better for wear, let go of his shoulder warily. “That was some bleedin’ cheek, eh? Havin’ the wrong name an’ all?” He shrugged wildly and nearly fell into a shop-front. “Or the right one. Which izzit?”
“You have problems, you know that?” Pete called as he kept walking through the St. Kitts town-towards the docks, where he could throw the captain into his bunk and perhaps return for a few more rounds.
For a moment he got no response from the captain-and then suddenly a galumphing impact from behind as Jacob leapt onto his back. Pete struggled for a moment and then fell over sideways, knocking him and the captain both across the empty street. Pete coughed, winded, but Jacob seemed as unaffected as ever.
“Carry me home!” he ordered, a little bit late.
“You are a bloody pain in the arse!” Pete snapped after taking a moment to curse.
“Home is where the heart is!”
Pete sighed, sitting up to rub at his elbow blearily before looking back to the captain of their crew. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to let him have quite so much to drink, but it had been such a long time. He wished his best friend would just shut up about that Camila woman already.
“Come on,” he said, heaving himself to his feet. Then he reached down to grasp Jacob’s hands. “You need a bed. And a wash.”
“Ugh!”
Title: What’s In a Name?
Rating: PG
Challenge: FOTD: fanfaronade, Grapefruit #12: in the gutter
Toppings/Extras: malt, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 1,121
Summary: A fairly average night in Rolliver’s Tavern.
Notes: Fanfaronade: Swaggering; empty boasting; blustering manner or behaviour; ostentatious display. Grapefruit PFAH: Jacob : she was buzzin’ all over me. Peaches: Tonight someone reminds you of something you forgot.
Rolliver’s was a seedy but warm-spirited tavern that threw open its doors for anyone and everyone. Discussion and roaring laughter always filled the atmosphere over the jumpy notes of a fiddle or accordion. It was lit in hues of amber, sawdust spread over the floor to keep it easy to clean, double-tiered and always bustling.
Contrary to popular belief, Captain Jacob Graham didn’t often get himself royally legless. Not for any sensible reason, of course-after years of tipping copious amounts of alcohol into himself, it wasn’t that easy any more, besides which he tended to get the shit kicked out of him when he got drunk and that just wasn’t dignified. He loved a good brawl but preferred them when he was actually swinging in the right direction. He was rarely sober but it wasn’t often he got to the stage he could barely walk.
Well, relatively speaking.
“The Lioness was a wunnerful little schooner,” Jacob said with a wild wave of his hand, slurring so impressively that the sentence came out as practically one word. He and some of his crew were tucked into a corner of Rolliver’s around a circular and wonky-legged table, dotted with flagons and small purse-like sacks. One of these had been opened and tipped, revealing a spread of sparkling jewellery. Fake, Jacob knew at a glance, even when drunk-but convincing enough for most. “We took ‘er apart.”
“She had nice bronze cannons and all,” Pete nodded sagely, his face as flushed as Jacob’s from the night of drinking behind them. “Took ‘em, of course. Easy, eh?”
“Easy as anythin’,” Jacob confirmed, arms sliding around the girl on his lap. She was a pretty girl; long brown hair, bright red lips. “We walked all over ‘em as always. “La Cirque… she’s my baby. A bloody good ship. A bloody good ship.” He took another long draught of his drink while the girl on his lap picked up a gleaming ring that was supposedly sapphire.
“How lovely!” she giggled. She turned to face him. “Can I try it on?”
“Feel free, darlin’,” he said in a low voice while one of his hands squeezed her tight thigh through her puce-and-white dress. She squirmed happily, slipping the elegant ring onto her finger and then waggling her hand, watching it catching the light.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed brightly.
“Keep it,” Jacob said generously, which made Pete shoot him a sharp look. Jacob ignored his boatswain and instead concentrated on the delighted smile on the young woman’s face as she admired the ring on her hand. Small amounts of powder rose from her heaving bosom as she giggled again.
“Thank you!” she said, and then kissed him on the bridge of his nose, which had a sharp and still-vivid cut upon it from the battle earlier that day. Jacob’s large, tanned hand was moving towards her bottom when she spoke again, this time into his ear alone: “I bet you’re wanted by a lot of people…”
“Oh, truly!” he agreed, nodding lollopingly, curls shaking out as he grinned. His mop of hair, sliced out of his face by a thin band, was mostly brown but looped with honey-coloured ringlets where the sun hit most on the top of his head.
“Now you’re wanted by one more,” she murmured with another laugh and another puff of powder into his face from her exposed chest, the square-necked bodice so tight it seemed to cut into her flesh.
“What’s yer name, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing a strand of her hair over her neck.
“Cammy,” she replied prettily.
Jacob recoiled so suddenly that he nearly threw her straight off of his lap and onto the floor, making her squeal and wrap her arms around his neck. She was still grinning, thinking that he was simply fooling around. That theory was proven wrong as Jacob suddenly put the palm of his hand to her forehead and prised her off of him in a fairly undignified manner. His hand came away layered in even more powder.
“That’s a nice name,” he said brightly and promptly turned away from her. Having been forced to stumble to her feet, Cammy turned to face him with a frown on her face.
“Jacob?” she demanded and the captain suddenly rose to his feet.
“Shut it, you!” he said, nearly keeling over sideways after standing too quickly. He staggered around the table. “I just gave you a ring! D’yer know when the last time I gave a ring to someone named Cammy was? Never!”
He tripped over and landed on his face.
Rolling his eyes mightily, Pete rose to his own feet and made his careful way over to the captain, pulling him up from the tavern floor. Jacob set to work clumsily dusting sawdust from his rumpled buccaneer’s jacket with as much dignity as he could muster while Pete turned back to poor Cammy.
“Never mind him,” Pete called to her, struck by inspiration. “Men’s troubles. Sell that ring on for a good price, mind!”
Then, grabbing the swaying captain by the shoulder, he steered him out of Rolliver’s and into the cold, leaving the rest of the crew behind.
“Well!” Jacob said indignantly, stumbling over invisible obstacles and wheeling this way and that. Pete, only a little better for wear, let go of his shoulder warily. “That was some bleedin’ cheek, eh? Havin’ the wrong name an’ all?” He shrugged wildly and nearly fell into a shop-front. “Or the right one. Which izzit?”
“You have problems, you know that?” Pete called as he kept walking through the St. Kitts town-towards the docks, where he could throw the captain into his bunk and perhaps return for a few more rounds.
For a moment he got no response from the captain-and then suddenly a galumphing impact from behind as Jacob leapt onto his back. Pete struggled for a moment and then fell over sideways, knocking him and the captain both across the empty street. Pete coughed, winded, but Jacob seemed as unaffected as ever.
“Carry me home!” he ordered, a little bit late.
“You are a bloody pain in the arse!” Pete snapped after taking a moment to curse.
“Home is where the heart is!”
Pete sighed, sitting up to rub at his elbow blearily before looking back to the captain of their crew. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to let him have quite so much to drink, but it had been such a long time. He wished his best friend would just shut up about that Camila woman already.
“Come on,” he said, heaving himself to his feet. Then he reached down to grasp Jacob’s hands. “You need a bed. And a wash.”
“Ugh!”