Oh, Izzy couldn’t be worse. He’d lost it all. His leg, his captain, and his pride. He was reduced to this shell of a man, drinking the emotions away. Izzy sat below deck, against the side of the ship, and breathing slowly.

He glanced down at his wooden leg, admiring the black against gold paint, and smirking lightly at the fact that it was shaped like a horse’s leg. He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Fuck.”

He muttered weakly, glancing to the side as he heard approaching footsteps.