nysalogs | (no subject)

Who: Captain Jack Sparrow (

drinkupmehearties) & open!
What: October plot & info sharing
When: Early to mid-October
Where: Shades Darker
Warning(s): None

[ Word about the attack had spread near instantly, peppering the network and filtering into rumors and speculation in the streets. Jack has been keen on keeping an ear open at taverns since then, eavesdropping for any tidbits of information that can be gleaned from tongues loosened by alcohol.

He doesn't hold much stake in the outcome or politics of it, in the hunt for the perpetrators, in whether some were truly innocent or not. It's the reward that entices him most -- the potential risk of going after one of the culprits could be worth the extra coin, particularly for those named on the network (the silver offered for that is a nice, hefty amount). Failing that, a useful lead could perhaps net him a few silver for his troubles. Either way, it's incentive enough.

On this particular night, Jack can be found at Shades Darker. The main room hums with activity -- drinking, quiet chattering, a scandalous flash of skin by flickering candle. It's not as boisterous as say, the Faithful Bride was back in Tortuga, but the sordid, seedy atmosphere and the patrons that frequent the brothel have a familiar feel just the same.

Finishing off his latest round, Jack hauls himself up from his table and strolls towards the bar, glass clasped in one jewel-laden hand. He's listened to the heated discussion at the table near him for the better part of an hour now, but it was quickly clear that the argument was inane and personal and ultimately uninteresting.

Once he's ordered himself another drink, he sweeps the hat from his head and sets it atop the counter, then notices the person next to him. Must've just freshly entered. ]

Come for a reprieve from all the madness?

( Wildcard )

[[ OOC: hmu on plurk (

heathenpancakes ) or PM if you want to plot or have a specific starter written up! c: ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Must have made a mistake. Isn't this the place to go to if you're looking for madness?

[ Amy raises an eyebrow, inquisitive and just this side of daring, like her question is something of a test.

Whether it really is or not has yet to be seen; Amy kind of tends to just go with the moment, seeing where it might take her.

In fact, it's sort of how she wound up in this place at all. Seedy and dirty and sketchy as it is, Amy had been following a lead. An old man's murmurs ('As long as Olympia and Wyver are at war, it'll be a miracle if we ever get a cure.') led her to following a couple of the Royal Guard headed this way until somehow she'd wound up here, a little tired on her feet and thirsty.

The squeaky-clean ones never have any answers anyway.

She studies the man speaking to her, eyes shifting to the hat he places on the counter. (It's a nice hat. Brilliant, now she's thinking like the Doctor.)

He's absolutely the very opposite of squeaky-clean, isn't he? ]

[ He definitely is, in more ways than one; this kind of place is practically made for his breed of indelicacy, so it's no wonder that this has become a frequent spot for him. On the other hand, as Jack returns the scrutiny with his own lingering appraisal, she looks perhaps a touch ill-fitted here.

Wonderfully attractive woman, either way. ] In many ways, aye. Depends on the madness you're looking for.

[ His mouth draws with a roguish smile, good-humored and comfortably genial. ]

So. What sort of madness are you looking for, love?

[ She pivots a little in her seat, enough anyway to make clear that he's got her attention in all manners of madness conversation.

Strangely enough, Amy's got some experience dealing with mad men. Mad men with boxes, anyway.

She looks thoughtful. ]

The sort of madness that comes from chatter - to start. I'm sure by now you've seen the video on the network and heard what happened in the Market this morning.

[ He shifts on his seat in turn, a subtle adjustment that indicates she has his full interest as well; this is just the type of conversation he'd sought after in coming here.

(Not that the delightful diversions this place offered weren't already incentive enough to visit.) ]

I have, as it chances. Downright hideous thing for someone to do.

Didn't find yourself caught up in it, did you?

[ Well, the walls could probably do with a good scrub, and some of the patrons seem a little on the ... well, they could probably do with a good scrub too, but yeah.

Yeah, Amy can agree. There's enough incentive to visit. ]

Oh - no, no. Thankfully. I don't think I'd be here if I was. [ From what she'd gathered, those directly involved in the blast-zone had fallen ill. Many of them she'd helped to get to the Sanctuary before coming here. ] But I'm curious about what happened. And why. Especially the 'why'.

Been curious about the same thing, meself.

[ The bartender finally returns with his drink, setting down a glass of an amber-dark rum onto the counter. Jack takes a generous swig from it, then continues with a swirl of his hand. ]

Lots of rumors and hearsay's been passing around. I'd wager there's perhaps been some bad blood or the sort with those in the south. [ If the general grumbling unrest and 'your people' line from the broadcast were any indication. ] Got any theories on it, yourself?

Edited (whoops html) 2017-10-22 09:49 (UTC)

I'm not disillusioned enough to think I'll find one here.

[Sid waves a hand as he sits himself down, not making eye contact with Jack. He does remember him from before, but doesn't seem inclined to make a mention of it yet; instead, he scrubs a hand into his hair and puts one elbow on the counter, only glancing at the bartender for long enough to grab his attention.]

...Shite. Whatever you have that'll knock me off my feet, by all means.

[Sounds like someone had a bad week. Notably, his movements are a little sluggish, as if pained. Suddenly, he makes a very loud, very overt statement that the whole damn bar can hear in regards to the arguing couple nearby.]

Somebody shut these fools up before I do it myself.

[ The couple abruptly glance up from their argument and shoot a glare over at Sid. One huffs with catty annoyance, and then the other leans in closer to continue sharply making his point, his voice quieter this time.

Jack stifles an amused snort, grabbing the now full glass the bartender slides his way. She disappears off to fill Sid's order shortly after. ]

It ain't for everyone, that's to be sure.

[ He recognizes the man beside him as well, back from the beach. Resting an elbow onto the counter, Jack takes a swig from his drink and studies him for a beat or two. ]

You're looking a bit out of sorts from when I last saw you, mate. Had a rough time?

"Rough" is a word for it.

[Elbows on the counter likewise, he runs a hand through his hair, looking about ready to set his head down and pass out.]

I never thought I'd say it, but I'd sooner be in Ishgard again. At least those overzealous fools knew how to drown their troubles.

[Or, really, he'd rather be watching his young charge (back to one child from two, he reminds himself, after yet another most bizarre incident) at least, even if he doesn't have the slightest damn clue how to parent properly. They made do together... but now, alone, he's just screwing himself over anew.

He shuts his eyes, groaning. At the end of the day, he's still drinking alone either way.]

At least tell me the drink here is better than the swill from the beach.

[ His eyebrow perks. Poor fellow looks like he's ready to keel over at any moment.

Jack lifts his drink. ] Leagues better, I'm happy to say. They've many more options that don't include a pound of sugar and fruit with it. [ Maybe mixed drinks were palatable to some, but Jack likes his alcohol plain and strong. ]

Can't say I've a taste for the quiet, much as I like this place. Noisy and rough and full o' those already three sheets to the wind is the mark of a good tavern, I'd say. [ It's the sort of atmosphere that Jack is more used to, rather than this. ]

Drink and quiet would've been preferable for my headache, but as it is, I'll take just the drink.

[Because the quiet obviously isn't happening. Sid lifts his head, catching the glass the bartender slides down to him and taking a deep swig of it.]

...Better. Things are looking up already.

[The sarcasm is thick. Most of the locals at the Forgotten Knight knew better than to bother him at his usual table, seeing as most thought he was dragonspawn anyway... but at the very least, this place has the lack of preconceived notions going for it.

And, true enough, Sid isn't normally the sort to go hard off his ass on the alcohol, but in a situation like this...]

I'll probably be reeling later, but bloody hells, I need a break.