[Central America] Hunt Them Down

[Caroline Bausch]

Barely sundown and it was already reaching full-house at the Salty Sea, where brigands and betters alike rumbled and rolled in a roiling sea of beer and babble. Every bouncer and bar-wench wandered the floors tonight, navigating the slick and smokey room with quick feet and easy grins, forbidden to show the strain of flitting between kitchen, bar, and tables as long as they were on shift.

For Caroline, at thirty-minutes till end-of-shift, there had been little occasion for her to watch the clock with so much hawkish precision outside of medical duties. She hastily bustled her way through knobby knees and under clumsy grasping hands in her traverse back to the main bar, standing on tip-toe to set a heavy tray laden with empty mugs and glasses on the counter.

“A full order refill for tables six and seven!” she called in a mild trill, tucking her curls behind her ears and glancing back with a moue of exasperation. “And reminders to the fellows at table eight that this is not a brothel.”

Maurice chuckled from his position as barman, before bellowing out an order to one of the passing musclemen, using a voice that showed him every bit for the boatswain he used to be. Caroline smiled slightly, leaning against the counter with a small sigh and trying to grant her aching feet a temporary reprieve.

She looked up again when Maurice had her tray filled, bobbing into a curtsy with a small “Merci.” In return, she was reminded to, “Make sure and check in on the newcomers at table five.” The honey blonde nodded, polishing her smile, before turning on her heel and dancing back into the bedlam.

As soon as tables six and seven were tended to (and ensuring that the boys at table eight were firmly reminded that, non, the waitresses were not on the menu) Caroline made her way to the new table, adjusting her glasses and setting her now empty tray against her hip.

“Moien!” she greeted, mouth automatically adopting a winsome smile. “My name is Caroline, and I’ll be your server tonight. What will be your pleasure?”

[Arthur Kirkland]

Emrys really wasn't sure what the hell he was doing here. Yes, he could understand that Inuk wanted to celebrate - not just a very successful mission, but just go out and have fun - but really. Tortuga? One of the hives of pirate and pirate related activities, where the men and women they were supposed to shoot down with no remorse went to drink, gossip, and do whatever else they felt like. Standing awkwardly out of uniform - in his favorite red sweater, a beaten up brown leather jacket and black jeans - he turned to Inuk and sent him a look that told him to do what he wanted to do.

Sitting with his crew at table six, Renato seemed to be having the time of his life. Pretty women to gawk at, plenty of beer (even if it wasn't the best out there, it was still drinkable which was much preferred to a certain place down the street where it was basically a bit of wine mixed with... questionable liquids), surrounded by friends. This was what being a sailor was about. "To the Fortuna!" he toasted, raising his recently refilled mug into the air. They'd had a good haul in their last act of piracy - enough money and supplies that if they chose to not do any piracy for the next month or so, they could do it without worry.

[Talei]

This was a really, really stupid idea. That, or they were going to dig up some unexpected gold. Talei really didn’t like bars. Scratch that, Tal hated bars. What was the point anyways? Being dragged along to somewhere that the only agreeable thing to drink was water. Besides that, it was going to be dangerous, nasty, and possibly could get them in trouble with the higher ups. No part of this plan pleased Tal.

But it was for ‘celebrating’, Inuk had said, and that they were ‘going to have fun because the mission was a success!’

Really, Tal was surprised there wasn’t a hand-print indention after all the times Inuk had induced a face palm. Somehow, he had convinced them, and here they were, in normal ‘civilian’ clothing. Tugging at the loose black shirt, Tal seriously considered getting a few more ‘regular’ outfits. But at least it was warm here in Tortuga. Looking over at Emrys, Tal realized he felt the exact same way about Inuk’s idea. At least that was comforting, knowing someone else realized this was ridiculous. Adding to Emrys expectant look, and adding an arm cross, Tal waited for Inuk to get on with it.

[germania]

Things had gone well since he had met back up with his old friend. He was adjusting to the idea of being a pirate, though it still made him a little uneasy. Perhaps simply because it bothered the military man within him to be doing things with such blatant disregard for the law. However, Rome's laws were his laws, and if his friend and master decided not to obey the common rules, he had to go along with it. The bar was noisy, but it was a comforting sound in a way. It felt natural.

Naturally he had placed himself as close to Rome as he could, he rarely left the man's side. There was no reason to make himself scarce, he knew the Roman had enemies, and just like old times he had vowed to protect him. He had no desire to leave the man unguarded in a bar of all places. With little enthusiasm he raised his own mug grumbling "To the Fortuna." grudgingly. Not that he didn't want to enjoy himself, but he was always out of his element when it came to being social areas, and being surrounded by people.

He was, in short, a little unnerved by the ammount of people being so blissful. He was happy to sit off within his shadows, eyes scanning the room with a certain air of paranoia and drink quietly. The crew could have their fun, his Captain could drink himself into oblivion, but he would try to keep alert and on his toes. As much as it would have been a joy to get as drunk as he could, he had a promise to keep, and as he reminded himself bitterly he owed it to Renato to protect him. He'd already failed once, though he could not have protected the man from himself. Family had come before friendship.

There was no time for pleasure when he had to ensure that no one would strike down his master.

[Inuk Rasmussen]

It took a special kind of balls for a military man to take shore leave in the middle of a pirate port, let alone take his comrades out for a night of fun right in the heart of the busiest bar the brigands could muster. The fact that it was to celebrate a decisive victory against some of their number made the entire event more than risky—it was foolhardy.

But then, fortune had a tendency of favoring both fools and fiends, and Inuk was lucky enough to count for both.

Inuk grinned from the entrance of the Salty Sea, whistling low as he surveyed the sprawling tavern, harpoon held at a jaunty angle against his shoulder. “Looks like a good crowd tonight, huh?” he commented airily to Ems and Tal, eyes glinting with reckless energy. “Let’s weave ourselves in.”

In spite of his teammates’ misgivings, Inuk was completely within his element, pressing forward into the rabble and making head way toward an available table, easily nudging aside drunks that stumbled in his way and leaving a path for Ems and Tal to follow. Pirate, civilian, Navy—at the end of the day, a man with a drink was a man with a drink, with no one the wiser until he opened his mouth. No matter where you go on the globe, some things never change.

Finally finding an empty table tucked in a corner, Inuk looked back and waved his teammates over, drawing out a chair with a spin and taking the open edge, collapsing into an effortless lounge and crossing his boots at the ankles. After placing his harpoon on top of his portion of the table, he rocked on the back legs of his chair, loosely gripping the edge of the table, a wry grin quirking the edge of his mouth as he took in the easy atmosphere of the Salty Sea.

Finding civilian attire was hardly a task for the Greenlander; his patchwork leather jacket hung loose and open about him, revealing a snug-fitting black shirt with artificial paint spatters in neon green and silver. Inuk took it as a point of pride that he didn’t have to change out of his dark colored pants and black combat boots to blend in, because, really, with his hair, piercings, and general presence, what part of him looked even remotely like a Navy man now?

Drumming his fingers over the back of his chair in time with the tinny sea-shanty music coming from the far piano, he winked at a waitress passing by, chuckling when she necessarily snubbed his advance, and turned back to his less than comfortable superior officers as they took their seats. His eyes glinted slightly as he took in Emrys and Talei’s obvious unease, gently chewing on his lip-ring in amusement.

“You guys look like you’re expecting everyone to jump you all at once. Relax, huh? I’m treating.” As if that was all they were worried about.

He glanced up as a rather cute blond waitress made her bustling way to their table, pierced eyebrow raising slightly at her accent and diminutive figure. His grin grew at her greeting, and in a moment of mischief he decided to slip into his native dialect.

“Nice ta meetcha, Caroline. I’ll take a pint of house brew, meself, and whatever the hell these two are thirstin’ fer.” He gestured toward Tal and Ems with a casual twitch of the head, giving the most charming devil-toothed grin he had.

[Caroline Bausch]

Ah, so, he was one of those customers. While the Luxembourgish barmaid couldn't help but give pause upon seeing a harpoon on the table, Caroline kept a cool but friendly face, looking up at the other two men with a faintly wry expression, noting their rather subdued composure compared to their companion. Hopefully, a little drink would warm the atmosphere for them.

“And that would be what, precisely?” she inquired, adjusting her single handed grip on the drink tray and tilting her head, arching her eyebrows in a purely professional affectation of coyness, smiling lightly. “Or would you like for me to provide a menu selection?”

Behind her, she could hear table six raising a cheer to their ship, and repressed the impulse to shake her head. She had dealt with men and drink for as long as she could remember, but the sheer blatancy of some revelry still prompted her to internal girlish giggles. And something in the gregarious Italian man’s demeanor in particular told her that drink was not the sole cause.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Following Inuk further into the bar, Emrys glanced around nervously as if expecting someone to turn around and declare them military before the entire crowd. When nothing immediately happened and he managed to make his way to the table unscathed, he sunk into the chair with a faint sigh. This was... stupid. And dangerous. And loud - as he glanced over at the cheering pirates.

Though... in a way, this could be considered reconnaissance. As the waitress made her way over to the table, Emrys strived to look a little less like he was guilty of something and a little more like he actually belonged in a pirates bar.

"Ah... if you have any Famous Grouse, that would be perfect. If not, any Scotch whisky would do." Not wanting to sound too rude was probably not the smartest idea, but he wouldn't want to offend the poor lady and considering the fact that she probably had to deal with unruly drunks all day.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Renato's good cheer continued on as he drank, eyes on the door and casually watching patrons filter in and out. To his mildly buzzed surprise, he saw a highly familiar face walk stiffly through the door. Mind taken back thousands of years to when he was conquering his little Britannia's lands - that had to be England's other brother. The one that he'd decided not to name and just merge into the land he'd already conquered. His name was... Wales nowaday wasn't he?

Lips creeping up into a grin as the man - and goodness, he'd grown into a fine looking man despite the hair and the obvious attitude that something was out to get him. Renato remembered back when he'd first met the boy - all that baby fat and fire-breathing. He had been adorable. As the nation wandered over to a table with his friends, Renato considered getting up and going over to him. Ask his name. Tell him he'd seen his brother Arthur.

Then some very recognizable faces wandered through the door and Renato's smile froze on his face, all thoughts of meeting former territories vanished. He knew those men. And, as his thoughts turned back to his revenge, he knew that he wanted to kill them. "Aric." he spoke quietly but firmly, eyes not leaving the people in the doorway. "We've got trouble."

His eyes glinted menacingly as he lifted his pint up to cover the slow, predatory grin on his face. "Or rather... we're going to have some revenge."

[Talei]

If daggers could be shot from eyeballs, Inuk would have been pierced several times over. The glare was unrelenting as Tal sat by Emrys, ignoring most of the shouts of drunks and clinks of glasses. Trying to relax, Talei managed to go from death-glare to an I-Really-Want-To-Hurt-You-Right-Now glare. The Fijian sighed and placed her hands on the table, drumming an unsteady rhythm that was off-beat from the sea-shanty being played. As the other two ordered their drinks, Tal wondered if it would be weird to order just water. 'Oh well, I'll just go with the excuse that I'm being sober for the other two.'

Letting the accent come out was easier than Tal thought it would be. "I'll have water. Gotta keep these two under control." It was weird to even hear after all this time. Frankly, Tal tried to keep the Fijian accent in line and speak with an almost British-like crispness. So to let it go just made it all the more obvious that home was very far away and it had been too long since the last visit. Shaking off the feeling, Tal scanned the room for any trouble that could be heading their way. Lowering the guard was not an option, especially in a bar like this.

At least the waitress was cute. Wait, where did that thought come from?

[germania]

The Germanic man was only vaguely aware of what Rome was staring at, though he sensed they were not the only ones like them here in the bar. He didn't care one way or another, they weren't his sons, and thus they didn't matter. He needed to see them again, to make ammends for leaving them behind as he'd done. He needed to prove he still loved them and was so proud of all of them. He didn't have much time to think about that though.

Aric lifted his head to look at Rome the minute his name was called. Ever the loyal dog, ready to do whatever his master asked of him. He turned to follow the man's gaze slightly, before looking back at him. "Those some of the men you were telling me about?" He asked quietly, his expression suddenly more serious than usual. Renato looked ready to kill, and his guarddog looked just as eager.

Whatever the master willed he would do, and there was never a time when he wouldn't kill for Rome. He had fought bigger men to amuse his lover and master, these men looked like they would snap like twigs. This would certainly be entertaining, they wouldn't last five minutes against the two former empires.

[Inuk Rasmussen]

Inuk couldn’t quite repress an amused look at Emrys’s expense as the Welshman employed his nervous but cordial Queen’s English as he ordered. The Greenlander thought that his attempts to be a gentleman in the middle of a seedy pirate pub to be fittingly ironic—an officer through and through.

If Emrys was trying to be inconspicuous, he wasn’t quite going the right way about it, but it was not as though many of the other drunks would be paying any particular attention away from their own drink and mates. The barmaid looked like the type to appreciate a bit of class anyway, considering her own precisely clipped if accented English.

It really was amazing, how much you could gather from people based on the way they spoke.

Judging by Talei’s scowl, the Fijian didn’t quite appreciate the Greenlander’s impromptu crash course on immersion. Inuk smirked back in response as the Fijian turned his gaze away in disgust, nervously drumming his fingers on the table and looking generally irritable in pretty much every way possible. The Greenlander’s eyebrows rose slightly on hearing the other’s accent, and his smile grew a bit broader in silent approval.

‘He’ll have to work on loosening up, but blending isn’t going to be a problem for our little spy,’ he mused, rocking forwards and giving a playful nudge to the other’s chair with his foot, scoffing lightly. “Not even meh own family could keep me under control; ya think a lil bit of water will help yer chances much?” he joked, eyes glinting.

[Caroline Bausch]

Privately amused by the trio’s dynamics, Caroline allowed her smile to grow. They truly seemed to run the gambit between gentlemen and rabble-rousers. “House brew, Famous Grouse, and water,” she reaffirmed, nodding to each man for his confirmation, before lifting her tray and adjusting her glasses, “Simple enough—I shall be back in a moment.” Turning smartly, Caroline began to weave her way back into the melee, dodging the drunken dancers and sliding across the floors. She gave a brief glance to the other customers at the entrance, but one of her contemporaries—a world-wise middle-aged woman by the name of Dolores—was already tending them to their own table.

Soon enough, the petite waitress made her way to the bar, setting her tray down and lightly lifting her hand to catch Maurice’s attention. After reiterating her last table’s orders, Caroline took advantage of her brief reprieve to glance about the pub, quietly thankful that her shift was now a matter of minutes. As she looked about, she noticed that the men at table six had suddenly grown sharp-eyed and eager. Though it was hard to discern through the smoke, everything Caroline caught of their Italian leader’s expression spelt trouble. Unsettled, the Luxembourgish maid followed their gazes to Dolores’s recently filled table.

Maurice’s voice brought her back to the bar, and Caroline as carefully slid the tray back into her arms, she gave her employer a significant glance. “Keep an eye on table six,” she cautioned, “or we may have a situation.” Perhaps she was being paranoid, but years of living in a pub told her she wasn’t, and Maurice seemed to give her observation some consideration. She carefully minced her way back to table five, holding the drinks aloft.

“Here you gentlemen are,” she called, setting the tray down and allowing them to partake, withdrawing enough to wipe her hands on her apron. “I don’t suppose any of you are interested in appetizers?” she inquired, tucking back her hair and keeping half a wary eye on table six.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Offering the waitress a faint smile as she continued on her way, Emrys turned his attention back to his table mates with a faint sigh. Tal's glare and Inuk's amused expression were a near constant since they'd begun working together - and something that he'd been trying to overcome. As much as he was used to his siblings constant fighting, he thought he'd left that behind when he'd originally joined the military. And it certainly wasn't something he thought was good to have between people who relied on each other to stay alive.

"Come on, the two of you. Tal, try not to get upset so easily and Inuk, quit baiting him. I know I've said this many times before, but we really should try to get along and not consider murdering each other a way to pass time." tucking some of his messy hair behind his left ear, he had to laugh, even if he was still more than a little worried he was going to end up murdered himself in the next few minutes, but by pirates, not by comrades. "In fact, I'm sure our commander would appreciate it if we spent more time considering how to off these ruffians than each other."

The return of the waitress ended that brief conversation abruptly. Murmuring a faint thank you at the mug full of delicious Famous Grouse, he took a small sip, just enough to let the flavor hit his tongue. "Ah, I think I'm quite alright, thank you mademoiselle." he gave the nice girl a small smile and hoped he'd pinned her accent enough that calling her a mademoiselle wouldn't offend.