III. I Left My Heart at Saint Khan's Part II

Majel’s lips pouted as she looked into her now-empty mug.

“Hm. It seems that I’ve run dry. The first real round’s on me, then…” the cat said as she felt up her right pocket, making sure that, unlike Cain, she hadn’t been robbed yet.

“Oh, it’s alright!” D’anna said as she batted a hand. After a brief pause, she added a hasty, “B-but thank you, though,” to not come across as rude.

“Are you sure?” Majel asked, “I’m offering.”

“Well…” D’anna considered, “...I’ll probably just have a glass of milk then.” 

The cat paused for a second. “Milk?” 

The elf nodded, then looked around the bar to see what the other patrons were drinking. “Do they… not have any?” 

“I don’t think this place had water unless something had been fermented in it.” 

D’anna’s eyebrows furrowed with thought. “Hmm… well, in that case, what were you going to get?”

“A grog,” Majel shrugged.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s rum that’s been watered down. Cheaper than getting it pure.” 

“Do you think I could just get a virgin grog then?” 

“Perhaps, but I suspect that you’d still be charged full price. Might as well just get it normal at that point.” 

“I don’t know… I’ve never tried rum before. What if I don’t like how it tastes, and I’m stuck with a glass of it then?” 

Majel leaned forward, completely glossing over the second half of what D’anna had said. “Never had rum!?”

The elf was caught off-guard by Majel’s sudden burst of energy. “I-It never struck me as something I wanted to drink before, I guess! Why try this drink I’ve never had before and might not like when I could just have a reliable ol’ glass of milk?”

“Oh, D’anna!” The cat cooed, “I’m about to change your life here in a second!” 

She leaped from her chair and practically pounced towards the bar. D’anna had never seen Majel move so fast, even when they were being boarded by navymen.

After a bit of time, she came back with three glasses on a tray, all of them filled with a caramel-colored liquid. She put one in front of D’anna in a very barkeep-like fashion and kept the other two for herself in a very un-barkeep-like fashion. 

“Is this grog?” D’anna asked, looking over the orange-brown contents of her glass.

“No, we’re going straight to the good stuff for your first time,” Majel smiled. 

She held up one of her two glasses. Running along the top was a ring of chunky salt with a shrimp garnish. She dipped the crustacean in the rum, gobbled it up, licked the salt off the rim, and drank all of its contents in one gulp. The process repeated with the second, identical glass. Satisfied, Majel belched and leaned back in her chair. In her eyes, The Beheaded Navyman did have one redeeming aspect: there was a lot of booze. 

D’anna looked down at her salt-and-shrimpless cup for a moment before taking a swig. 

“Oh my gods,” D’anna moaned as her tastebuds danced between the crispy skin of a roasted chicken leg and its meaty, buttery insides. She paid no mind to the tears of juice that traced her round face. “I’m tasting flavors that I didn’t even know existed!” she slurred, partly from the alcohol, partly from the butter coating her tongue. 

Majel could only agree with a nod, as her mouth was preoccupied with a heap of shepherd’s pie. After she licked mashed potatoes from the corners of her lips, she finally replied, “Mhm! They say it’s because alcohol… numbs the ‘thinking’ parts of your brain, so the parts… that… register flavors have more blood to work with!” 

“Huh…” D’anna acknowledged. The elf picked up a chunk of cake with her available hand and cleansed her palette with some devil's food. “Ugh, I don’t know how I can… can… go back to hardtack after this!” 

“It’s not all hardtack… don’t forget the salted beef!” Majel smiled.

D’anna groaned. “What I’d give for a ship cook…” she pouted with a full mouth, causing what she said to sound more like “Whah ah’d givhe fhor ah ship chookh…”

Majel laughed. “Even if Sawyer could afford a proper crew, I bet he’d cut corners and skimp on a cook. He’s been dismissive of food since his stomach died with him.”

D’anna shook her head and took a sip of air. She looked down at her glass, noticing that it was empty, even after she got another refill not too long ago. “Huh. I’m uh… I’m gonna, I’m gonna get another cup…”

“Be a love and get me one too,” Majel smiled as she handed D’anna her glass. “Just ask for a Majel, they’ll know what it means.”

The morning sun illuminated the front of The Beheaded Navyman in a warm, orange glow. Leaning against the brick wall was a passed-out feline, her loudly snores echoing throughout the city street. A strand of discolored drool oozed out from between her black lips like a runny nose. Her belt was undone, her shirt was stained, and she still held onto a bottle of Montgomery’s. Leaning on the feline’s opposite shoulder was an elf holding a different bottle of alcohol. Her hair was lightly frizzled, with a few bits of schmutz tangled inside its black curls.

Suddenly, a thin shadow loomed over them, growing larger and larger as the sounds of footsteps became louder and louder.

“Of course ye two are still here!” Cain yelled. He nudged the tip of his boot against Majel. “Get up, ye lazy gluttons!”

Majel batted him away. Cain nudged harder until she had enough and leaned forward. Every part of her body was awake now, save but her eyelids. She had to sit up for a few moments, squinting into space while she adjusted to consciousness.

“What is it, Sawyer…?” She groaned.

“Shore leave’s been cut short! That skank of a skunk left me in an empty Cap’n’s Quarters! Everythin’s gone! All the gold, all me maps, she even took me friggin’ parrot!” 

“Since when did you have a parrot?” 

“I got ‘im last night. Emphasis on ‘got,’ past tense. Now c’mon, we have’ta make up for loss expenses.”

“I hardly think we’re in pillaging condition. We only survived the Colossus on the account of The Count.” 

“Aye, I already have a plan for that. Just gotta make a quick stop before we set sail. Wake up tha elf so the both of ya can report back to tha Wound an’ get her prepped ta disembark.” 

The skeleton slipped into the alleyway next to the tavern, cursing Winn’s name and vowing revenge under his breath. Majel stared into space for a few more minutes before she nudged D’anna’s arm and mumbled for her to wake up. 

The elf yawned a particularly serious yawn, the kind where her head tilted back from its sheer force and she felt like her mouth wasn’t big enough for its liking. She blinked a couple of times and scratched the bottom of her cheek. 

Majel sighed and strung together a series of expletives as she rocked her body back and forth to gain the momentum she needed to stand. Once she got up on her feet, she leaned against the wall to catch her breath, trying her absolute damndest not to vomit. Whenever she felt clear, she helped up D’anna and slicked back her hair.

“I’m never having rum again in my life…” D’anna groaned, clutching her stomach.

“If you think this is bad, try drinking Dwarven coffee,” Tawny said as she stood up and stretched. “I swear, that stuff’s made to remove barnacles from hulls…”

“Oh great,” Majel sighed at Tawny’s presence. 

“I gotta give you kudos, Hairball, nobody’s ever played me the fool that hard!” Tawny giggled as she weakly pointed at Majel. “Y-you had me running to the docks, all hopped-up and screaming, just to crash my crew’s midnight poker session! Ha!”

“Yes, well…” Majel said with a fake smile, “it was extremely easy. C’mon, D’anna, we gotta since it’s our captain that can’t make it as a pirate, not me…”  

The cat sighed as she took a swig from her bottle of Montgomery’s.

“Some for the road?” she offered to D’anna.

The elf gagged. 

“What is it, Cain?” Majel asked as she and D’anna walked into the empty Captain’s Quarters. She was a little taken aback by the sight. The only thing left was the desk, only because it was sealed to the ground. 

The skeleton stood behind it with a sense of confidence that Majel didn’t like. “Ladies,” he began, “as we’ve learned in our prior brush with death, a crew’a three is as cozy as it is suicidal—”

“…you know a thing or two about suicide…” Majel muttered underneath her breath.

“Shut it, mange!” the skeleton barked. “A crew’a three is as cozy as it is suicidal… hence why we need ta expand operations on the Festerin’ Wound.”

“But we can’t pay anyone,” D’anna said, her tone as if what she said was a question.

“Ah! We can’t pay anyone in gold, elf,” the skeleton smiled. He ducked behind the desk. “Hence why we’re not lookin’ for sailors who’ll work fer money, but rather…”

CLANG. 

The skeleton slammed down the battered cage of the Beheaded Navyman onto the desk. The head groaned from the impact before eyeing D’anna and Majel, rapidly clacking its teeth at them.

“... for brains!”