A Pirate's Life For Me

Friendly(Not) Introductions

"How far away is this 'friend?'" Jackson asks softly, voice reluctant, loud in my ear.

I would scowl, but I doubt he can see me. "Why, your legs hurt? Oh, I'm so sorry, should I have stopped for a rest?"

"It's not like you're practically carrying a full-grown man since he can't walk on his own," he snaps back.

My pride smarts.

Colette smacks Jackson's free arm as I wrench it from around my waist, taking no care not to hit his head when I pull my hand from his shoulder.

"Come on," he mumbles, distraught, rubbing the spot where I'd cuffed him as I stagger to remain standing. "I didn't...Look, I can help you, I just..."

"It doesn't matter," I squeeze out through gritted teeth. "We're almost there, and you can't show weakness in this part of town anyway." Glancing over my shoulder, I take one slow, sure step, and inhale deeply before walking out of the alley and onto the street. "Y'all walk ahead of me; Colette, stay close to him."

Ignoring Jackson's indignant jerk of hair, I limp behind them and force myself to walk upright on the main road. They look like a pair, obviously not from these parts. Their cloaks are ratty, definitely not new, but still in pretty good shape, and clean, unlike everything else around here. They walk hunched; well, at least Colette does. We'll be dead before we turn the corner if Jackson doesn't stop glaring everyone down.

"Dude," I whisper-yell, pain sharpening my tone. "Stop glaring at people."

His head snaps to the side as an older man bumps into Colette.

"I said, stop—"

"I heard what you said."

It's the loudest whisper I've ever heard.

"If you heard me, then you'd know two things. One, shut up. Two, stop starting fights with your eyes. No one is going to touch her, and while we're on this topic, you're not the only person she gets to talk to."

He stops completely and whips around, glaring at me. "She's my—"

"I don't give less than a shit about who she is to you, all I care about is that you cool your roll and put your goddamn head down. You're attracting enough attention already, and if I have to stop a fight you're going to be in some sore shape since as you oh-so-kindly mentioned earlier, I can barely stand." My words fly with a healthy amount of spittle onto his face, my fingers relaxing around the tie of his cloak as he straightens.

For once, he's silent.

Colette sends me a secret smirk.

I don't want to bond over a fight. But I also am close to the end of my patience with him.

Yes, I'm indebted. By code, I owe him my life, and his life is by code mine to owe. Until then, I'm stuck by him by my overblown sense of honor. I also am grateful. It's not only the code; if he wanted me to, I would bow right here in the middle of this cobbled street, knees to the stone, and sing his praises like a madman. Thankfully, he hasn't asked, but for as much as I'm grateful, I'm also saving his ass by keeping him in line. This isn't a part of town where you can act out and expect to go home afterward.

Just as I near my breaking point, the tavern comes into view, and I stagger towards it. I've given up on hiding my limp. It's all I can do to walk. They follow me without question, Jackson with a protective arm over Colette's shoulder. I'm in too much pain to even be annoyed.

The bell over the door dings obnoxiously loud, dulled slightly by my racing heartbeat, and I move up the step to the bar stiffly. The man behind the counter glances at me, eyes cold, before turning to the customer in front of him. Easing myself into an open stool, I can't stop the groan that slips out from my tightened jaw. Jackson moves to sit in the stool beside me. I smack his knee away. We can't afford to be presumptuous.