A Pirate's Life For Me

Split-Decisions

"Caspian!"

I turn at the voice, back tweaking softly as I twist to glance over my shoulder. "What, Dec?"

The pirate lumbers around the corner of the bar, leans against it, watches me swipe my cloth across the table. "You ain't sleepin' in the study no more?"

My heart jitters, but I swallow it down. "No, I'm on the couch in the guest house again. Still working in the study, though."

There's a soft beat of silence, where all I can hear is his judgement, before he shifts.

"You usin' those files?"

"Yeah. Why else would I be in there, you think I'm sniffing your books for fun?" He doesn't laugh, none of his typical nose-breath-snort. I glance back at him again.

"Hard job." He's not looking at me.

I turn completely, resting the small of my back against the edge of the table. Something's up. "You're telling me." Declan doesn't care how difficult a job is. If you've got the ability to get it done, he expects you to get it done.

"Well. Lemme know when y' finish with that."

I blink. "Okay?"

With a thick finger, he scratches the stubble beneath his ear. "I got a bonus fer ya when you finish."

I have to remind myself to breathe. A bonus? From Declan? That would help tremendously. "I-I mean, I'm not going to protest, but okay? Why are you being so..." My eyes rake up and down his rumpled overalls, at the creases in his brow. He seems so anxious. "...weird?"

There's a sharp cough before he clears his throat. "Heard from Maggie last night."

Oh.

I turn my back to him and pick up my rag again.

It's not as though I've forgotten about Maggie. I did my part in ruining her life; I see no reason to continue to twist the knife. Besides, there's really no point in continuing to mope in Dec's room. That doesn't help anything. Things have gotten better now that I'm sleeping on an actual cushion. I can focus more on getting my work done rather than how many days it's been since the town square. It is definitely warmer on the couch; the first night was awkward as hell, but I've gotten over it. Colette isn't too happy that I'm invading her space, but as I get to bed after she's already asleep and I'm up before she finishes snoring, plus the fact that after her stunt in the back kitchen I couldn't really care less about her opinion, she doesn't have much room to grumble. Jackson, ironically, seems to enjoy my presence, though sometimes pretending to be asleep while he changes a shirt as he comes out of the trap is a bit of a problem. The trio hasn't really said much, yet, but I'm not optimistic that it'll remain that way for very long. So far, no one seems to know, but any one of the three could drop little more than a hint in any direction and the axe could fall.

The bell above the door jingles, a familiar sigh standing the hairs on my arms on end. I try not to stare as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, grey shirt already stained with floral green and mud. There's a smudge of dirt just below his cheekbone, and I'm tempted to toss him my rag and tell him to wipe it off. Or better yet, do it myself. But I don't have time to debate anything before his eyes land on mine.

"Oh," Jackson says, surprised. "Hey, Oliver."

"Hi," I say back, too quick for my own liking, blinking fast and twitching my head to look at Declan again to make it seem like I wasn't watching him. Dec sends me a subtle smirk; I whip my head back to Jackson's.