Hoist the sails—!

The breeze. There's nothing like it after a hard day's work.

And there's especially nothing like the sound of a heavy chest hitting the plank— loaded and clattering with silver, gems and gold. So much gold— enough to drown in—!

Now this, this is life.

As a pirate, you love money. There is no greater love.

So you couldn't be happier.

Happy enough to even dish out your personally kept barrel of liquor, joyfully pouring your crew shot after shot. Fine liquor for a fine haul. This is well deserved, matey—! And it was the finest shit you got too. Even a man like Zale couldn't resist a mug.

Zale leaned against the mast, measured eyes sweeping the rowdy deck before they steadily land on you— drinking yourself to oblivion. He holds his cup loosely between long fingers and he… waits. Measured, educated, reliable— Zale is the reason this vessel of yours has stayed afloat. Before he came, no one in your crew could even read, much less figure maps out. He came, he worked and he's the reason your crew is so accomplished. So as the brains of the operation— Zale is always calculating.

He's your perfect quartermaster, your second in command.

But tonight, he's calculating more than just this month’s provisions.

The waves rock the ship, bellowing cheers fill the deck, whiskey being poured left and right, and the winds are strong but pleasant— propelling the ship forward. And when it came time to dish out shares, you grabbed generous handfuls of treasure— tossing them to every single eager crewmate aboard. Aye—!

They accept the pay with joy— all except one.

When came his time, Zale doesn't take the money. Instead, he lowers his mug onto the wooden rail with a firm thud. “Captain, have you considered my proposition?”

Aye—?!

You pause before attempting to awkwardly brush him off. You fill his cup with more liquor and he quietly lets you with unwavering eyes. But he doesn't drink, instead—

“Captain. Do you have an answer for me?”

Gods, he's persistent.

Over these last few months, Zale has learned a thing or two from your crew. That every man has a price and there is no such thing as a service done for free. Zale has single-handedly kept this vessel afloat, kept your crew alive— Zale has charted maps, anticipated storms, and planned raids to ensure you left with more spoils than corpses. Zale has done more than his fair share of service. And he has grown impatient.

He's a man who's come to collect his pay.

You understand his determination, so like a great captain— you give him even more gold. Even if it hurt you, you cannot afford to lose Zale. So if it was more gold that he wants then—

But Zale is merciless.

“I don't want your gold.” His voice is low but heavy enough to drown out the celebration on the deck. He finally takes a sip, not out of his cup— but yours. “...need I remind you?”

Ayeeee… You wanted to escape before he brings this shit up again. But Zale doesn't let up, “Captain,”

Fuckin’ hell…

“I want your heart.”