Dents

[+] Pirate's Progress

"Saoirse-san!"

Afternoon rolled around with the haste of an elderly, well-fed tortoise. I was lying on my back with my head resting on 2D's lap. We were spread out on the torn up sofa in the common room playing Mario Kart on a couple of sticky Nintendo handhelds. They had without a doubt seen better times. The overall functionality wasn't any worse for wear over it, though.

As expected, 2D was also better at Mario Kart than I could ever hope to be. I had yet to find a single game that gave me an advantage against him.

"Saoirse-san," the stairs creaked noisily as Noodle cantered down them, "Call for you. It is Murdoc."

I didn't turn my gaze from the screen for fear of losing even more terribly than I already was. Noodle stood before me with the phone held out expectantly. It didn't take long for the match to end with me in last place again. After I had my goose cooked for the umpteenth time, I met her eyes with an apologetic smile.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. I was stuck with him last time. It is your turn," she replied candidly.

There wasn't any way around it. Unfortunately, she was right. I passed her the DS.

"Alright. Fill in for me, would you?"

"Gladly. Thank you, Saoirse-san."

Her shoulders heaved in relief, excused from the drawn out ramblings of Murdoc who was assuredly smashed on prison wine in the middle of the day. A citrus scent lingered in her hair. It wafted past me as she flopped onto the couch and kicked her feet up on the table. 2D looked mildly distressed. I soon understood why.

While I was no match for him, Noodle was so unbelievably superior that she may as well have designed the game herself. I couldn't say I expected any less. 

With 2D in good hands, I answered the call that had been ringing incessantly for the last five minutes. I paced aimlessly around the kitchen. I hadn't even said anything and Murdoc was already talking.

"'Ello there, Saoirse. Apologies fo' not callin' you lot on the regular. New guard in 'is area's a daft cow lackin' two brain cells to rub togetha,"

I audibly huffed into the receiver. The conversation was going to carry on exactly as I expected. It was foolish for me to hope that Murdoc may still have been sober before noon. As proof that the universe was mocking me, he stuck two idioms together in a way that made no sense to anyone who wasn't as pissed drunk as he was.

"Aaanyway, right," he droned, "Tryin' to get faceache on the phone's like floggin' a dead horse, and you're the next best thing I got."

"Well, if nothing else I appreciate your directness."

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they may gain enough momentum to fall out of my skull and bounce into the next room over.

"Riiight. So I was 'bout to be sent off on my merry way from these blokes at this bloody shitehole, bu' the judge is a tosser 'n threw a spanner in the works. Ought to be stuck 'ere fo' anotha week or two, I'm thinkin'. Sorta reminds me of those knobs in that bloody Gorillaz tribute band, always lockin' up ol Muggins 'ere and -"

"I don't have all day, Murdoc. Get on with it, will you?"

He paused for a second on the other end of the line, which was an unusual occurrence because normally he wouldn't shut up. A moment later his cockney laughter bellowed through the telephone. It startled me half to death. I had to put some distance between the phone and my ear so as to not go deaf from his throaty cackling. I almost thought I could feel droplets of his spit splattering into me from the other side. It repulsed me to no end.

I was also pretty confused as to what he found so amusing.

"Still 'aven't misplaced 'at spine of yours, eh?"

I took a second to process what he said. When it sunk in, I actually felt a small tug at the corners of my lips.

"It's my only redeeming quality," I responded sarcastically.

Murdoc went on to change the subject to several unrelated stories about himself that had no purpose aside from boring me senseless. At long last, he allowed me to speak for about thirty uninterrupted seconds in order to update him on the current status of the band.

I twirled a loose nickel on the kitchen table, watching it spin freely and fall flat. I repeated the motion until that too became monotonous. I flicked the coin off the table.

"We're doing fine. Tired, mostly. Busy too. The new album is probably going to be released soon, so we haven't -"

"Wha's 'is about a new album?"

"What do you mean? We've been working on it for months. I thought that was why you sent Ace over here in the first place."

There was a loud crash on the other side of the line.

"How is it you lot are workin' on a new album when I 'aven't sent you a single scrap of sheet music?!"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wasn't understanding this at all.

"Okay, I think I'm missing something here."

"No, I'm the one 'at's bloody missing somethin'! Who's been writin' all th -"

Suddenly, the line dropped. I was redirected to an automated message informing me that the time for the collect call had run out.

It became obvious from our one-sided conversation that Murdoc was unaware we were developing a new album without his guidance. He'd spoken with Ace, Russel, and Noodle plenty over the past several weeks.

How was I supposed to believe that all three of them had said nothing for no reason?

Something seemed very wrong with all of this. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly.

I set the phone on the kitchen table and returned to the common room where Noodle was annihilating 2D at Mario Kart.

"Hey, Noodle. Think I could swing by your room later tonight? We could break in to that saké you got me for Christmas."

Noodle set the DS on the table in the middle of the match, not caring to continue now that she had effectively knocked 2D's ego back down to an appropriate height. 2D leaned over the screen with his head in his hands, simultaneously awestruck and devastated, utterly paralyzed by his defeat. It would presumably take him several minutes to snap out of the state of shock he was in.

Noodle grinned. She jumped up from the sofa and stepped over the coffee table with ease. She grabbed me by the wrist, her touch cold and her long polished nails grazing against my skin.

"Why not now?"

I thought about reminding her that it was barely after noon.

She had a point, though, I guess. Why not now?