few minutes trying to slap the damned thing and you're telling me to leave it be!?'' the young Captain whined, testing his weight against it. ''Fuck it, let's get out of here, I tire of this place and I'm hungry...''

''You should have thought about your stomach the moment before you sent that poor idiot flying out of the room.'' Yonyon retorted, picking up his bag from where he had thrown it in a panic earlier.

''Speaking of which... I didn't hit him that hard. He's being awfully quiet...''

How many steps did it take to get from the entrance of the gambling house to the motel? It was an interesting question, and a detail that Ragnarok could have savored in his mind. Sadly, he only thought of his particular aspectwhen he was half way from his destination, making the entire point moot and defunct. Clopis strode along side his captain, right hand perched dutifully on his hip, his left hand swaying to and fro carelessly. The dead pirate strode with long, stamping strides, the dust flung up from his boots and his many blades leaving a trail large enough for the both of them. His eyes were dead set on the little motel, his left hand clenching and releasing with anticipation. Aside from the island setting, the two could almost be mistaken for a couple of Desperadoes heading into town after many weeks in the desert gloom. Pirates are pirates though, and while Desperadoes were treated with a sort of romanticism, pirates were often feared.

What would he