entranceway | ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

[Way to miss the point in the worst possible way. Good job!] Thank you, but no. I think something a bit more solid and on the heavier end of the spectrum would be good. If it would stay down.

[Because he's starting to have that creeping feeling that he'll never be able to eat again. Not a good thing, for anyone.]

Oh, the Code cuts back. After all, everyone knows what'll happen to ye if you go full rogue. Teague - He be the Keeper of the actual physical book - doesn't take it lightly. Not like the rest of us. Nay, he'll have 'em hauled in for a hanging. And there be no greater shame than a pirate being hung by a pirate.

Well, maybe this is a stretch, but...have you thought of preparing your own meals? And I don't mean using the appliances. The kitchen is stocked with food, right? There's nothing stopping you from a good old fashioned campfire cookout or something. Maybe that'd sit better on your stomach.

[And that, if anything, is an honest attempt at being helpful. Kunsel is a fan of home cooked meals, especially as he doesn't get enough of them where he's from. He knows how much better they sit on a stomach than the kind of meals scraped out of a can or sealed package. Home cooked is even better than the specials served at certain diners.]

I guess that makes sense. So why take it lightly at all, then? Or is it because doing so is convenient when that Teague fella isn't looking?

To be honest, mate, I was never very good with that, either. I've been at sea since I was naught but a lad. [There's a touch of chagrin there, but he continues anyway.] Never worked the galley, not even for punishment. Stropped, aye, but I was too valuable elsewhere.

[But moving right along, because his career past and present is of no interest to anyone, least of all himself. And besides, he's used to not being able to eat at all, so even this is a bit of a step above, even if he can't keep it down.]

Well...Aye. Teague is... [There's really no way to describe him. Not if the other players aren't well-known, so there's no point.] I toe the line as Teague did me a great service once. Everyone else does so because he might be old as the devil himself and retired from active pirating, but he'll kill ye as soon as look at ye.

[Kunsel signals for more drinks.]

Well, you're not alone in this place. Or is asking for help against some pirate code of yours? [He holds up his hands quickly at that.] Not a serious question, by the way. Actually, even if it is against some code, I'm offering to help.

[He won't win any awards for cooking, but he knows how to not burn things and not under cook them, too. That's gotta count for something.]

Ah...Teague sounds like... [Actually, he sounds like someone who commands a lot of respect, and that alone is impressive to Kunsel.] Sounds like an interesting guy. And he just keeps this Codex book? I still can't believe there's a whole book...

[And he's just going...To let that whole cooking thing go. Yep. He'll figure it out eventually, and as the ladies of this place have been so helpful, actually, no doubt thinking him an inept lout...Well. He'll get it down.]

Aye, a whole book. Of course, there's only a handful of pages dedicated to the actual Code. Ye can't expect most of the sods that sign on the account to put two and two together, much less keep in mind too many rules. The rest is just a discussion of what should be what. [He pauses, because Teague's a hard one to pin down, as far as he's concerned.] But Teague keeps the book, and makes sure the laws are enforced. The worst thing ye can do in front of him is slander the Code in any way.

[Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to ignore someone? Especially when they're offering to lend you a hand? Probably not, come to think of it, so Kunsel lets it slide.]

Sounds a little underhanded...but if it works, it works.

[Kunsel shrugs, and when the hostess comes by with their drinks this time, it's with a bottle of whiskey that they can help themselves to when they want to top up. He thanks her, eyes lingering as she walks away, then his attention snaps back to Barbossa.]

What makes Teague so dangerous?

[Kunsel, you poor thing, does anything at all about him scream good manners to begin with?

Though he gives a snort, spotting the bottle, and the look on Kunsel's face. Kids.] Give it up, mate. If she were interested, she'd keep coming back by the drink.

[But as he reaches for the bottle himself, he stops, considering the question.] He's not so much dangerous as takes his job very seriously. Teague is an old pirate, from a family of pirates. [And does that ever bring up unwanted memories of Teague's mother.] His mum was part of the first Brethren Court.

[Well, no, there's no screaming. It's more like little whispers, really. And maybe not so much of good manners as it is...not being one hundred percent a terribly awful human being? A totally redeemable quality in a person. Or something.]

[He gives a start and holds up his hands.]

Whoa! No, I wasn't, that is, a guy can just...look. You know? That's all it was.

[SOLDIER boy, who are you trying to convince? Yourself or the pirate?]

Guess you gotta point, though. [He eyes that bottle before shrugging and pouring for Barbossa and himself. A worthy consolation prize in his mind.] His mother? Shiva, I can't imagine what she'd be like. What's the Brethren Court, though?

[Sorry, Barbs. He's yappy. Especially when he's been drinking.]

[Honestly, it's almost adorable, and the amusement is written all over Hector's face, though he'll be kind this once and spare Kunsel's pride. After all, he'd been young and dumb, once upon a time.

But as for dear ol' Grandmama...Those were memories that leaves him feeling a wee bit icky. No one, after all, not even the most desperate of men, wants to be eyed in that fashion by an old woman.] Oh, I can imagine. Met her once. I see where her grandson gets his...Flamboyance.

The Brethren Court is just a group of pirates, mate. Nine pirate lords who make decisions for the rest of the industry, you might say, concerning the bigger things. That's where I was headed, before I ended up here, to call the rest of them. First official meeting in my lifetime, as they've only met thrice before.

Hm...flamboyant. I can name a couple people like that. None of them old ladies, though.

[He chuckles a little to himself.]

Anyway, you say just a group of pirates, but it sounds like a pretty big deal if they've only met three times prior and you were only just now getting to...

[Pause.]

...you know. Attend your first official meeting. Because... [Just stop, Kunsel.] You're kind of. Old...ish.

[Why didn't you stop.]

[Smiling like that isn't going to make it better.]

[...Old-ish, is it.

Oldish.

For several long moments he simply sits there, sizing Kunsel up with the flattest of stares. Of course he's older. That much is obvious, but it's not like Kunsel needs to point it out.]

Old-ish. Ah, I see. [Old. He's not old. Not yet, anyway, but at the rate things are going, he's certainly starting to feel it. Those last eleven years are catching up with a quickness, but that is none of Kunsel's concern.]

Well, considering the Court's been around nigh on a century, mate, none of us have ever attended an official meeting.

Except Teague.

Well...ish. Yeah. It's hard to tell past the

[He gestures with his hand to his face, though whether that means the hair or dirt or weather-beaten skin...Kunsel doesn't say.]

So, the other meetings weren't official? What makes it official or not if you're all meeting anyway?

[That stupid smile is a little more of a smirk now, mostly because Barbossa's expression is, as far as Kunsel is concerned, quite comical. Probably more than the pirate realizes. Or cares, for that matter.]

[Go spend forty years in the sun, kid. You'll look old, too. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with his hair, thank you.

But really, Kunsel's lucky that Hector's willing to give him a pass. This once.]

It's a bit of a long story, and it's not something we exactly spread to those not on the account. But rest assured there's a method to the madness.

[Speaking of...He can only hope Ragetti's still guarding that Piece of Eight with him not there to supervise. God only knows he and Pintel can be...Special.]

[No, he wouldn't. Because sunscreen. And his helmet. Maybe if you'd had one of those instead of a fancy-pants hat...]

You just don't feel like telling me, I'm sure. That, or it's probably something simple like...subject matter dictating. And you just want it to sound big and mysterious. Unless it really is big and mysterious?

[He shrugs his shoulders.]

Whatever, it's not really important.

[He tosses back his drink...not exactly sure what number he's on. Hm. Then tops the glass up and gestures for Barbossa to drink.]

You been a pirate all your life, then?

No, it's not. [Not to a not-pirate, anyway. For all he knows, with him here someone like Cutler Beckett could turn up, and having that knowledge within his grasp is not what you'd call pretty.

Next drink, down the hatch. Though, honestly, he's a little disappointed. For as bad as it is, it's certainly not doing its job properly.

~~The joys of having a high alcohol tolerance.~~]

Nay. Was a merchant marine first. An honest sailor. [His mouth quirks just a bit.] Realized there be a lot more money in it for a man not unwilling to get his hands dirty.

[Kunsel can't boast the same tolerance; the whiskey is already catching up with him.]

[Topping up Barbossa's glass, he sets the bottle back down.]

Always been a SOLDIER, myself. I don't know if it's really honest work, though. People pretend it is...but what's honest about following orders that land whole nations under the heel of a mega conglomerate? [He downs the contents of his glass and sets it down heavily.] I've thought about leaving, but you don't really leave Shinra, you know?

[Instead, you get written off as K.I.A. and hunted down by infantrymen or worse. And the whole thing gets covered up in the end, people moving on like you never existed, the only ones who know any better being the ones who care enough to dig through all the filthy lies. Yeah. He knows a little about getting his hands dirty.]

Anyway, I can do more from the inside. Though if I ever got a chance to jump the company ship and go sailing, I might be tempted...

[All of that? Means absolutely nothing to him, but he can see the meaning withing the meaning. Or at least the gist of it.

He picks up his glass, and pauses, squinting at Kunsel.]

Well, it's the same as any supposed honest work, if you're not working for yourself, aye? Nay, had me fill of that, signed onto me first pirate ship in me early twenties. Never looked back. Me mum is no doubt rolling in her grave but...Well, it's a better living than I'd have otherwise.

Yeah...that makes sense. Can't say we've got much for pirates where I'm from, though...so that's out.

[He lifts his glass, holding it up as if to cheers.]

Probably for the best in my case, anyway. I'm just not sure I could pull off a beard and pirate attire. Well, except the hat. I think I'd look pretty awesome in a pirate hat.

[As if that's anything to cheers to, he tosses back his drink and sighs heavily.]

So...what finally pushed you into this profession? You had to have known there was money in it all along, I mean...it's piracy. It kind of speaks for itself. At least in some cases. Anyway...what was the final straw?

[Bless him. That question is so naive and adorable, really, that he can't help but chuckle. What makes a man turn to piracy is the money, but there's a lot a man gives up when he does it.

But he considers it a moment, to find a way to put into a less...Personal perspective.]

Me family was poor. No surprise, I'm sure. Most are. I thought I could make a living not going that path. [He pauses, downing his own drink.] You have to let go of a few morals, becoming a pirate. Even if you don't do certain things, and won't, you have to turn a blind eye. At first, at any rate.

You didn't think of doing it for your family? Just yourself?

[He leans on the edge of the table, head on one hand, the tip of his smallest finger picking along the edge of his visor.]

S'kinda cold. But I guess some men're made for that kinda life.

[Not Kunsel, though. Nope! Turning pirate would mean letting go of more morals than he'd had to let go of when joining SOLDIER, and as for turning a blind eye...well, he never did that. Not unless it was for Zack, in any case.]

How d'ya live with it? You've probably seen a lot of ugly stuff, am I right? Doesn't any of it bother you?

Catholic family, mate. A big one. It truly were every man for himself. I made it easier, leaving home when I did. One less mouth to feed.

[And it's obvious he doesn't feel the slightest bit of guilt over it. He barely remembers most of them, and well...Too many years and water under the bridge. He wouldn't step foot again in Bristol for all the swag on the sea.]

You live with it. And pat yourself on the back for being the better man. There's no room for squeamish stomachs and soft hearts there. You can either learn to ignore it, or you can find another profession.

[Hold the boat!]

...What's cathlick exactly?

[He almost thinks he heard calf-lick, but he's certain Barbossa didn't use an 'f' in there...or so he's hoping.]

Catholic. The...Holy Roman Church, aye? All that nonsense of popes and confession and all that rot.

[It's painfully obvious he's not a religious man.]

Me mum was Irish. Me da weren't, but me mum drug us to Mass any chance she could.

[Kunsel makes a face. That can only half be seen due to his helmet's visor, but his lips are pressed together in a fine line as though...he's still not quite sure what he's hearing.]

[Oh, sure, church makes sense. He connects that with religion and worship easily enough, except...nobody really practices any kind of belief like that in Midgar. There's a church, but it's rundown, the only frequent goer being a flower girl.]

[So this nonsense about a pope, or multiple popes, and confession, is really just nonsense to him, too.]

[And as for whatever 'irish' is (pirate slang for irritable? no, not likely if it's being used in correspondence with religious matter), he doesn't know that either. Or Mass. He thinks he heard Mass. Could have been mast, but his mother wasn't a pirate...]

...uh huh. Big family. Gotcha.

[You need another drink, Barbs? Because Kunsel's topping up his as he nods, then holding the bottle out for you.]

So...what do pirates believe in? Besides coin, I mean.

[Different wheres and whens. It's hard, and yet oh so easy, to keep that in the forefront of his mind, mostly.

He takes the bottle, giving it a little shake.] Nothing, mate. That's the only reason we're in it. Aye, there be some that love the life, and it offers a...Distinct sense of freedom, when you realize you owe no one anything but yourself.

But we've no time for gods or higher ideals. Not really. We look after our own well enough, the rest of the world can take care of itself.

[He fills his glass again, realizing...Perhaps Calypso had given his liver a little tender love and care while bringing him back from the dead. He's had a high alcohol tolerance for years before the curse, but he'd wrecked it after the Cobra sank. But now...Well, he felt fine and dandy, didn't he?]

ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

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