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Ttom wasn't used to pubs. Well, not ones with lots of ale. He wasn't used to drinking either, or gambling, or anything else like that. It was because of this that he stood out- he was clean and shaven and wore upper class clothing, a healthy pink in his cheeks. Perhaps to outsiders he would look like a strong young man; here he looked like a lumpy sack of flesh and bones.
He stared around at loud, drunken men who laughed and roared between each other. In one corner, a group huddled together with pipes in their mouths, all of them cheating at their current game of poker. Near the center, a few men who'd had one drink too many were singing off-key to an old sailor's song. There were various arm-wrestling games scattered about the room, and the tinkling of gold coins after one man or the other would win. Ttom pushed his way through the room and, after getting lost a few times, eventually made it to the back where the bartender was.
The man cracked a toothy grin at him. He was a large man, the kind who could easily crack your skull with one hand and still be able to read a book at the same time, if he so chose to. “Aye!” he said. “Wha's a shrimp like yerself doin' in 'ere?”
Ttom glanced down at the yellow parchment he held in his hands and said, “Er... I'm looking for... Luna Zeget?”
“'round these parts we call 'er Captain Luna,” the man said, passing a tall, dark drink to an old, sad-looking man. “An' wha' kinda business might yeh have with 'er, eh?”
Ttom sighed. “Look, is she here or not?”
The man pointed to one of the darker corners of the huge room. Sitting at the farthest back table were two people, a man and a woman. Ttom approached cautiously, and waited until he'd gotten their attention before speaking. “Er, hello,” he said lamely. “My name is... I mean...”
The woman set her drink down and glared up at him. “Hey,” she said, stopping him as he tried to say a few coherent words. “Spit it out.”
“Well, you see, my name is Ttomas Melmoor and, er...”
“Boy-o,” the man said, taking a swig of what smelled like whiskey. “Git on with it. We 'aven't got all day.”
“I wanted to know... if I could join your crew.” He gulped and stared Luna straight in the eye, trying to seem brave. She laughed wildly, catching the attention of those nearest to them for only a moment.
“You!” she choked. “A scrawny thing like you!”
Ttom's shoulders slumped. He supposed he should have expected this response. And even if he were to carefully explain his reasoning for wanting to join her crew, she probably still wouldn't allow it. But it was worth a try, wasn't it? “Listen,” he said. “I really need this.”
“Boy-o,” the man said, chuckling. “Give it a rest, already. We don't need yeh.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Luna said, trying to calm her mad laughter. She took a long chug of her drink and said, “Yeh can have a job... washing floors!”
Ttom hesitated. If he agreed, she would have to let him, even if she'd been joking around in the first place. However, doing such a thing would most likely rob him of any strands of dignity he still had left in him. Then again, what dignity did he have left after coming into this place, this pub full of pirates? None, as far as he was concerned. To other peoples, he would appear to be a strong, lean young man with a good future ahead of him... to these people, he was a wiry scrap of nothing.
“Alright,” he said. “I'll take the job.”
Luna howled with laughter. The man had an expression that was a mix between disgust and amusement. “I am Caption Luna Zeget, as yeh well may know,” she chuckled. “And this 'ere, this fantastic bastard is-”
“Tobias Carlen,” the man said, turning in his seat. “Yeh'll call me Sir, though, or yer ass is dead.”
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