Oops. [active]
Character(s): Cross, Bizet, and whoever.
Content: Cross finally comes up from below ship and gets a little surprised.
Setting: On the Cheap Prayer, on a dock in Panama.
Time: Mid-day, Wednesday3.
Warnings: None.
Scratching his head, the red-haired captain took a step up on the deck above, coming out of the recesses of a room that God only knew he'd been locked up in. He smelt heavily of alcohol and it seemed the gruff on his chin had grown just a bit longer. With a soft yawn, he fixed his coat and tugged out a cigarette from one of his pockets as he moved up the steps, striking a match against a beam of wood at the top of the flight and then lighting it.
Inhaling slowly, Cross looked around and removed his hat, letting the sea breeze comb itself through his messy red locks. He glanced, face dull and disinterested as ever, around the ship to see who might be about today. He carelessly hung his had up on the same beam as before and continued to walk on.
It seemed that nobody was around. Closer observation told Cross they were docked. Still docked. Or had recently docked. He hadn't the slightest, honestly- but the first person he saw, whom was unfortunately that small boy Bizet, he tugged him with a jerking hand roughly close to him and leered down at him.
The boy shuddered and stared up at his captain. "...y-yes, sir?"
"Where are we?"
"P-P-Panama, sir."
"...Oh." The boy was released. Cross moved to the edge of the ship and stared down at the docks, and then up at the lush, tropical surroundings littered about the land. "Well I'll be damned."
Content: Cross finally comes up from below ship and gets a little surprised.
Setting: On the Cheap Prayer, on a dock in Panama.
Time: Mid-day, Wednesday3.
Warnings: None.
Scratching his head, the red-haired captain took a step up on the deck above, coming out of the recesses of a room that God only knew he'd been locked up in. He smelt heavily of alcohol and it seemed the gruff on his chin had grown just a bit longer. With a soft yawn, he fixed his coat and tugged out a cigarette from one of his pockets as he moved up the steps, striking a match against a beam of wood at the top of the flight and then lighting it.
Inhaling slowly, Cross looked around and removed his hat, letting the sea breeze comb itself through his messy red locks. He glanced, face dull and disinterested as ever, around the ship to see who might be about today. He carelessly hung his had up on the same beam as before and continued to walk on.
It seemed that nobody was around. Closer observation told Cross they were docked. Still docked. Or had recently docked. He hadn't the slightest, honestly- but the first person he saw, whom was unfortunately that small boy Bizet, he tugged him with a jerking hand roughly close to him and leered down at him.
The boy shuddered and stared up at his captain. "...y-yes, sir?"
"Where are we?"
"P-P-Panama, sir."
"...Oh." The boy was released. Cross moved to the edge of the ship and stared down at the docks, and then up at the lush, tropical surroundings littered about the land. "Well I'll be damned."