You and Wilbur had a long and conflicting past and history.

You were a witch, he a pirate, a good one at that. Neither was very fond of the other, but from time to time you needed each other’s help.

Wilbur entered your cramped and colorful shop, filled to the brim with trinkets he couldn’t name.

His eyes locked with yours and a grin spread across your face. He studied your atypical outfit, leaning against the counter. “I need your help.”