A Pirate's Life For Me

Old Demons

It started out innocently enough.

I wanted to know more about Hazelton's so-called 'partner.' Wanted to waste the hours until I had to sleep and wake up on the dreaded morning. Wanted to know who the partner was, wanted to triple check my sinking suspicion that it was Icas. It makes sense, if it's Icas. He's killing two birds in one stone. Getting rid of me, and blindsiding Hazelton in one fell swoop. With Icas involved, everything becomes clearer. Except for the part about arriving tomorrow; but with the dwindling guard activity around lately, it would make perfect sense for Icas to be out of town or even out of state.

Either way, whatever the reason I chose the most, I decided to flush out some connections.

Turns out, Hazelton still visits the same girl, still spills his secrets when he's drunk. He has since we were ten, when he told me that Wylie was taking him in as his son.

The same girl was in the same bar. Why fix what was never broken, I guess. It just made her easier to find. I wanted information out of her. And giggly dancers, well, I'd spent my fair share of time with them all, and I know better than anyone how to get what I wanted. Most of the time, an endless flow of alcohol does the trick. And I was fine, really. It was an innocent quest, and I had all the worries in the world on my shoulders.

I just...forgot how strong the temptation is.

"You're funny," she slurs, pronouncing each syllable very carefully, slipping over the 'f' in 'funny.'

"Yeah?" I question, watching with a detached sort of fascination as she downs another shot without me bribing her. It seems as though she's jumped off the edge. I have to burp, but burping in her face would kill the mood, so I burp into my shoulder and smile at her. She doesn't seem to have noticed. She's too busy picking at the top clasped button on her very, very low cut dress. "What else am I?"

She gives me a drunken hum and leans her arms on the table, tilting her head in a way that might have been sultry before whiskey bobbed her head against her shoulders. "I think you're...funny, and...s...smart."

My own laugh comes out louder than I thought, but it's okay. I'm not too far gone. Everything is just...happy. Fuzzy. Relaxed. "I think you're the smart one."

She throws back her head and laughs, a deep, very off-putting belly-ache sort of guffaw. While she's distracted with not falling off of her stool, I steal myself another large gulp of whatever the drink in front of me is. I almost drop the glass when I put it back down, but it's okay. Everyone always shouts in this bar. I doubt anyone heard me.

"I actually have a smart question for you," I grin, unable to stop my smile from spreading all the way across my face. It feels weird. I haven't smiled this wide in...a long time. "You have—have a friend who comes to visit you, right? On all—all the Fridays."

She bites her lip and tosses her hair, like she can hide the glint in her eye, or the way her cheeks flush at the mention of him. "I don't—hic—don't know what you mean."

I narrow my eyes a little bit. She's not telling right away. Is she the wrong girl? "Calls himself Blanc? Like, French white?"

She giggles harder, bites her lip hard enough to tear some of the skin before wincing and holding her lip with her fingers. "What about him?"

I almost smile really wide, but I settle for just a small one. So she does know him. "I know you can tell me where he is."

She laughs, loudly again. But doesn't respond with anything other than a call for another drink from the pitcher.