He's a She (Assassins Creed 4)

James Kidd, Eh?

A/N

More James Kidd background time...

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'Yer sure about me leaving you alone with him?' James asked Elizabeth, pulling her aside for a moment and away from Allen's prying ears. His whole expression reflected his sense of worry, and she felt a tad more comfortable.

'Aye,' she answered sort of reluctantly, Allen seemed like a fine man, though Elizabeth's record with drunk people hadn't always gone well. She knew she wasn't going to get the proper help though with all of this tension between the two though. 'I'll be just fine.'

'I'm not far... If ye need anythin', just holler. I'm not far.' 

Elizabeth just nodded as Allen approached the two, his arm outstretched to help Elizabeth walk to his house. James, however, just reaffirmed his grip on the girls upper arm and moved passed the older man, assisting Elizabeth to the old shack. He didn't stop stop glaring at Allen and only released Elizabeth when they were standing as close to the front door as humanly possible. With his eyes still locked with Allen's James began stepping his way.

'My warning still stands, old man.' he hissed.

Allen sheepishly invited Elizabeth into his rather dirtied house, the smell of rum deeply embedded within every wall. It seemed that he was an avid drinker, though a break did him well every now and then. Elizabeth attempted to hide the look of distaste on her face as she entered the small shack. The wooden floor was cracked and uneven, littered with empty bottles and shattered glass. The walls were illuminated with dim lanterns that hung on the wall, which also happened to be stained with various liquids- She really didn't want to know what sort they were.

She was supported by Allen's arm now, James still standing outside- his watchful eye trained on the girl as she disappeared inside the shack. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, giving him a nod before the rotten door shut behind them. She trained her eyes forward once again, being mindful of all the garbage scattered about. Men really couldn't care for themselves, could they? Perhaps that wasn't true, James and Edward fared better than most she ran across.

'I do apologize for the mess,' Allen's words came out quickly, sounding rushed. 'I rarely have visitors.'

'Rarely?' Elizabeth questioned. 'Aren't you the doctor?'

'Aye. Though many of the swashbucklers who inhabit this excuse of an island don't want an old drunk peaking around their... 'vessels'. They'd much rather have someone like Anne Bonny do that, though there's very little she can do- I'm surprised James came to me when surely he could've patched you up just fine.' Allen entered another room, his arm tight around Elizabeth as they walked. 

This next room was a bit more tidy, like no one had been in it for quite a long time. There was a simple bunk, lined with white sheets along with other equipment that looked like they were used for medical purposes.

'He told me his patching skills fared quite horribly, actually,' Elizabeth explained as she was set upon the bed. 'Told me he'd end up breaking my ankle more than fixing it.'

'I told him he needed proper education.' Allen shook his head, turning to fumble with his tools, looking for the proper ones.

'Pardon?' she asked, placing her hands on the rough sheets.

'Nothing,' Allen dismissed. 'I take it he hasn't spoken a word of me- So I shall do the same.'

Elizabeth was about to argue with him when he turned to her with various supplies nestled against his chest, like a small baby. He strolled past her, wood creaking beneath his steps as he moved. Dropping the supplies along side her on the mattress, he pulled up a wooden chair, propping up her ugly and damaged ankle on top of it.