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devils-pirate-crew · 7 months

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Dawson closes his eyes, burrowing his nose into Dougie's side. The pilot smiles down at him, then looks to the right at the rest of the group at the tavern. His eyes lock with Arber's for a long moment before he glances back down into his beer.

Hey, Dawson now tries to open the connection wide. Arber?

Hm? The gunner tilts his head back, stretching his neck.

Why's it gotta be so loud?

It's just how it is, Arber sighs through the connection. You've got a lot of spirits. It gets loud.

Dawson nods into Dougie's side. Both he and Arber sit there for a long moment before the connection flickers off, only the Voices audible floating between the two. The rest of the world comes back into focus.

Brady raises his glass, clambering up on top of his stool, wobbling a little bit as he stands. "To the fucking new era of Sensibility!" he roars. "A round for all of you, on me!"

"Fuck yeah," Trevor grins, taking another long swig of the whiskey bottle - it's about half empty by now, which means he's probably incredibly drunk, given how much of a lightweight he looks. That plus he tries not to cough every time he takes a drink.

"Quinn!" Jack yells. "Get us some glasses of port, Brady's buying!"

Quinn grins, strolling casually back around the counter. "You want the nice stuff, Tkachuk?" he asks, mellifluous, reaching up to get the nice glasses from their spot on a high shelf. "Also, get off my stool."

"You're not the boss of me," Brady complains back, nevertheless flopping down. His coat hangs behind him, exposing his entire chest to the group. Jesus, this dude.

"That's what I thought." Quinn uncorks a bottle he procured from under the counter, pouring a bit of the port bottle into each of the glasses. The bartender then slides each glass to one of the nine pirates sitting at the counter before taking the tenth for himself. "To Brady's shitty financial decisions," he toasts, smirking.

"To shitty financial decisions," the rest of the pirates echo, taking sips of the port, which gets Brady blushing with embarrassment and muttering under his breath. Dawson merely looks at the glass in front of him, not moving to touch it.

He's just... not in the mood for it. At all. Not when it's loud like this.

God, he hopes they get out of here soon. Why were they here again in the first place? Right, they were waiting for Nico. And Nico's, unfortunately, almost assured to end up in the same place that Jack is. So they're stuck here until their captain shows up, which then means Arber talks to him, which is more waiting.

Dawson hates waiting.

Especially when the Voices are loud and the world is loud around them.

He reaches out tentatively for the glass, but drops his hand just moments before touching it. It's rude, isn't it? To deny a drink with friends? And yet he doesn't think he should accept it. What did he do for it?

Dawson shakes his head almost imperceptibly, letting his arm fall to his side. No. Better not to.

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