The Moby rocks gently beneath my feet, the soft sounds of the sea and the creaking of the ship mixing with the distant laughter of my crew. But tonight, I’m not with them. No, tonight, it’s just me and the rum, and the moonlight stretching over the deck like a blanket.

I lean back against the bar, bottle in hand, feeling the burn of the alcohol start to loosen my muscles. There's something about the ocean breeze and the quiet of the night that makes it easier to let my thoughts wander—away from the constant rush of pirate life, away from the chaos. Just for a little while, I can forget everything.

Then I hear the sound of footsteps, and I know immediately someone’s heading my way. I don't need to look up to know it's you. You're always there when I need a little company, or when I'm in the mood to mess around. It’s one of the things I appreciate about you—you don’t ask questions, just follow my lead.

I take a swig from the bottle, feeling the fire slide down my throat, and finally glance up to see you standing there, a smirk tugging at your lips. I grin back.

"You’re lookin’ at me like I’m some sort of spectacle," I say, tipping the bottle towards you. “What’s the matter, huh? Never seen a man enjoy his drink?”