tampered | Oh look, they're getting drunk again, what a surprise. (Log, Incomplete)

Oh look, they're getting drunk again, what a surprise. (Log, Incomplete)

When; Evening of Truth Day
Rating; Oooh, this could go anywhere.
Characters; Captain Sparrow

13_year_captain and the Erstwhile Commodore Norrington

heart0foak (Did you miss us? XD). Other members of the Pirates Crew and their chums and acquaintances (Jan, Lieutenant Matsumoto, Agent Sands, etc.) should also feel free to stick their oars in for Great Drinking and truth telling.
Summary; In order to get Sparrow to leave him alone at Zack's party for Evelynne, Norrington challenged the pirate to show him a good time his next night in the city. Now he has make good on his deal. Oh, get your minds out of the gutter...

Log;

Thanks to their conversation just before meeting up in the corridor of the first floor of building eight, the silence between the two of them as far as the Underworld had been verging on oppressive. The Commodore had paused briefly to knock on Sands' door and when no response was forthcoming, to slip a polite note in impeccably neat copperplate handwriting (pressed down on the paper particularly hard to make it legible by judicious use of the fingers) under it explaining where they were going and that he was quite welcome to join them if he so wished. Then by unspoken consent, they left the building and headed into the dusky evening of the city streets towards alcoholic oblivion.

Norrington hadn't actually been in this close proximity to the Pirate Captain since their near duel some time ago. Certainly, they'd communicated a fair bit using the strange future glowing boxes (which made things a lot easier), but avoided actually meeting face to face. It was dashed odd enough not being on the verge of shooting each other, and it might well be some time before he got used to actually talking to the man like he was a fellow human being and not some sort of vile embodiment of all things piratical.

And then, of course, there was the whole Truth Curse issue...

Well, a question should at least be safe.

"Where are we going?" Norrington asked.

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Jack's silence is a far more rare thing, and bothers even him. For one, a lack of conversation means an over abundance of thought, and this makes him very glad for the question when it comes.

"Automatica. The drinks are good, the music doesn't bother me too much, and there are dancing girls. I think it's more than called for right now. I'll buy you a show."
The pirate told Norrington he'd start without him, and it was no idle threat. He's already done away with nearly half of the bottle of rum in his hand. He tips it to his lips again and, after a long pull, offers it over to his companion as an afterthought.

Norrington takes the bottle with a raised eyebrow, surprised at Sparrow's magnanimous gesture. He takes a long draught and returns it.

"Right...What sort of dancing girls? Native dancing girls? Exactly what sort of state of dress is implied here..." He asks, nervously. "Because, quite frankly, I've kept away from that sort of thing mostly, and the thought of all that is rather terr... BLOODY CURSE!" He cuts off, angrily. "Bloody stupid curse. I start off with a perfectly innocent sentence, and then all the rest of this r.. this n... these WORDS come out."

"Native to here, perhaps. And quite lacking in clothing, I'm afraid."

Jack smirks and laughs under his breath at the Commodore's prudish reaction to the evening's entertainment. "Yes.. bloody awful curse. Look, mate, there's nothing to be frightened of. These girls are paid well for what they do and they work hard for what they earn. They are doing a service and we're there only to enjoy it and watch, but never have a piece. I figure they're the ones better off in the end. They get all of what they're after and we, their audience, receive only a taste."
He shrugs.
"I'm far more accustomed to whores, and most among them will go farther for less. These girls are clever, and beautiful as well."

Sands has been incognito for the last two days. He was home when the note was slipped under his door and after listening for the two to leave- he slips out and follows them.
He would have stayed home if he was aware of the new curse but the lack of conversation throws a wrench in that.

He's just within hearing distance of the two of them, and the soft tapping of his cane is the only sound Sands makes. For a while he stays behind eavesdropping. When Norrington complains about the new curse he catches up. Signaling Jack to his presence, the agent pokes his twin in the back of his knee with the cane as he's midstep.
"I hear drinking. Gimme some."

The poke to the knee makes Jack stumble forward, sloshing a bit of the liquor from the bottle and pouting about it. He turns to face Sands, nose held high, and shrugs.

"Sorry, mate. Looks like your portion just got all over the street. Why are you following so bloody quietly? How long have you been there? That's a little creepy, you know."

Sands nearly walks right into Jack. He comes within an inch of the pirate's haughty little pose. Feeling an object close to his face he stops instantly and backs up. This is a skill he's only recently acquired and it only works about 10% of the time.

He voice becomes anal as he over pronounces each word.
"I'm a spy. I follow people all the time. Especially friends. I had a huge stalking problem in high school. Arrested a few times for it..." Why the fuck did he volunteer that information?
"Huh."

The arrival of his fellow serviceman cheers Norrington up quite a bit, mostly because it's a distraction from thinking about what he may have let himself in for, however clever the girls in question may be. He smirks a little as Jack stumbles.

"Quite stealthy indeed." He says, cheerfully taking Sands' arm to give him support and attempting to guide him between the two of them, and then looking completely and utterly bewildered when said arm turns out not to actually be made of flesh and blood. "Er..."

Oops! He found the fake arm Sands wears when he's up to badness. The agent smirks a little and snaps it off with his other hand- giving James his real arm. He's thankful for the help, not having Chiclet Boy around to steer him in the right direction.

"I was picking pockets. See- you bump into them and then slip the hidden real hand in their clothes to get the wallet. They never feel a thing."
That was something he really didn't want to say. He likes Norrignton but the man is kind of a stick in the mud. Sheldon doesn't want to do or say anything to lose his friendship. This curse has him fucked in that department.

"I see." Norrington says, raising the other eyebrow. "For stealing important documents from the enemy, no doubt. How cunning." He registers further surprise when he feels Sands' iron grip on his arm. How helpless must it make one feel to be blind? He doesn't want to think about it. "You intelligence boys always seem to have an awful lot of tricks, haha, up your sleeves. Excellent in a fight, of course. I remember one fellow we had on board once on a coastal run from Massachusetts in the colonies. Odd cove. Fellow had more little gadgets than a locksmith. Brilliant fencer, spoke about seventeen different languages as well, even some local Indian dialects. Mad as a hatter, of course. Refused to eat dinner with the rest of us in case of poison. The quartermaster was deeply offended and wouldn't come out of the galley for the rest of the evening. Never saw the fellow again after we dropped him off. Often wonder what happened to him."

Norrington's voice wandered off into the evening air as he delved the mists of nostalgia...

Oh, yeah. That's it.
"Exactly. I also use it to hold a gun on someone without them knowing. Useful in multiple situations."
Sands listens to Norrignton talk about his old ship mate with interest but his mind also wanders. They must look like an old couple with their arms in a lock like they are. He really needs to hire someone to do this for him and metally gives James ten gold stars for putting up with it considering how prudish he is.

"Sounds like a born agent. I've probably worked with or shot some of his descendants. I hope one of you plans to provide me with drink when we get to the strip joint. A man shouldn't suffer a lap dance sober. It's rude."

"Spying on friends and lifting the goods of innocents? Brilliant." Jack laughs and passes the bottle to Sands. It is rude to get a lapdance naked. There is a bit of an incredulous look, though. Curse or no, there's not full truth here. "Pulling a gun undetected I buy, but'Stealing important documents'? Feh. What secret knowledge does any bastard in this city possess? Nothing worth taking, surely."

Attention returns to the matter of the evening ahead, as Jack has no interest in 'talking shop' with his military companions.
"Joining us down to the club, then? I plan to have some girl with beautiful and enormous tits smother the good Commodore in her cleavage til the man explodes. I imagine the look on his face will be well worth the price. It may even help him to get over Elizabeth, which would be for the best, I feel."

Familiar voices draw Rangiku's attention from her brooding on the rooftop. Curiousity around, she peeks over the edge and chuckles when she sees three of her acquaintences passing below her. She's about to go back to her business when she overhears Captain Sparrow comment on 'some girl with beautiful and enormous tits'.

How can she resist?

Without a sound, she jumps from the room and lands lightly behind the group.

"I'm sure the look will be worth it."

Sands grins with a proud and cheerful smile as the pirate picks at the great excuse James came up with.
"Shut the fuck up, Jack!"
He laughs a little before he take s a swig and passes it to Norrington in an obvious show of favoritism. Suddenly he's having so much fun. And that's rare for him. The fun he does have is almost always by himself and involves cavity searches. But he might actually be making real friends here. Only friends stop by and invite you along to strip clubs after all.

"Who's Elizabeth? I feel like I should know that name. And I want massive tits as well. In fact I volunteer to test the tits for our Commodore. Make sure they are tip top."

Jack grins smugly as the 'shut the fuck up' clearly means he was right. He opens his mouth to go into exactly who Elizabeth is and is endlessly thankful when Rangiku shows up to interrupt him.

"Apparently, I've gained the power to summon breasts by their mere mention!" So very suave. Jack turns and grins at Ran...keeping it mostly at actual eye level.
"Evening, love. Care to come along on the adventure, or would you rather do the job yourself?" A brief glance down at the pale, full rise of her breasts. "Yours are among my favorites in this city. Speaking of..."
He taps Sands' shoulder.
"Sands! This is Ran, she's a member of my crew and quite ravishing as well. Get acquainted. She surely already approves of your looks aside from the whole eyeless business."

Her smile is a wry one as she bows to Captain Sparrow. "I aim to please, gentlemen." Her gaze slides over to Sands, the smile not faltering any as she looks him over. "I didn't think the resemblace would be THAT strong. It's nice to meet you in person, sir."

Sands mumbles something unintelligible to her looking like a small trapped animal.
Suddenly he wants to go home and be with his cat instead of getting boobs shoved in his face. That and this new curse is sure to get him in embarrassing trouble.

At the mention of Elizabeth, Norrington's face darkens. At the mention of breasts it reddens considerably more. Altogether this makes an interesting shade of purple.

"Test as many as you like." He says to Sands. "In fact, you can have them all as far as I'm concerned. You can tell him about Elizabeth, Sparrow."

He whips off a quick naval salute to Ran with his free arm (hand straight up and down, slightly curved). "Good evening, Lieutenant Matsumoto. I see you received my message on your box. I must apologise in advance for any extremely inappropriate language or behaviour that happens to issue forth from my companions here."

He then carefully steals the rum whilst Sparrow's attention is focused on Ran's.. presence and takes another draught before attempting to hand it to Sands and failing miserably (one hand on James' arm + one on a cane = difficulty).

Sands stops and fidgets at Jack's side when Ran shows up. He was under the impression this was a Guy's Night Out.

"We've met." Though Ran is aware of the eye thing he still frowns when Jack mentions it. Keeping close to James he mutters under his breath as he folds up his cane (not needing it with James around) and takes the bottle back.
"I'm claiming this as a 'Woman Tax'. I get to drink nonstop if she's around."

Sands is more uncomfortable around Ran then other women because she reminds him of Aljerez just a smidgen. She has the confidence of a beautiful woman. She's smart and you know right away she can handle her own shit. She's Sands' type. And that is the exact kind of woman that now gives him panic attacks.

"Oh." Even knowing the rough basics of what Sands has been through, Jack's surprised at his twin's reaction to the new addition to their evening. The pirate has more than enough bitterness of his own, but he still finds pleasure with women other than the one who wronged him.

He smiles at Ran and shrugs.
"Don't mind him, he's terribly antisocial as far as I can tell. Not to mention that the git's stolen my rum." It's important everyone hear that. "I'd be more put out if I didn't have such a bloody abundance of the stuff. I was looking for an exit from this place and all I found was liquor. It's almost poetic, isn' it? Though, if I have you over again very often, I doubt those supplies will last long....for a woman, you're a hell of a drunkard." This is, of course, said with the utmost respect. Jack points to her as he finishes the sentence, poking her lightly in the chest in doing so.

That wasn't so bad.. but he knows what would be. Jack wrinkles his nose, turning his half scowl/half pout to the Commodore. "I don't want to talk about Elizabeth, thank you."

"No, no more do I." Norrington replies, smirking a little at his successful thievery.

He can feel Sands tensing up in the presence of the woman and glances over at him. Insofar as there's any recognisable expression on the man's face, he looks almost frightened. He remembers what Sands said about his last romantic association and the way he feels about women.

"Cheer up, man." He says, patting Sands on the shoulder. "Nothing to worry about, you're among friends. Have another drink, and let's be off, shall we? How far is it to this place now, Sparrow?" Norrington directs his attention to the Captain and puts his best foot forward, carefully guiding the blind man along. He's never done this before, except for elderly aunts, and probably isn't very good at it.

It doesn't help that Sands is resisting. He turns around, his cane unfolding before him as he lets go of James.

"Nope. Not going. I forgot to feed my cat." As soon as the lie comes out so does the truth.
"I don't want to go to a strip club. I haven't had an erection since coming here and breasts in my face will just depress me. What's more I can't see shit anyway so my strip clubbing days are over for good."
He stops in his escape- thinks about what he just said and shakes his head in dismay. Now he's just sad and tired.

"Fuck this place. I'm not going to a club where the entertainment is naked bodies that I can't have or see or touch or fuck. And I'm not going with my unbroken half and a woman that reminds me of El Diablo. I just can't."
Sands would be honest and mention that having real friends bothers him as much as anything but he's not aware of that. Instead he makes his way home by himself, not actually needing Norrington or Jan to help him. Just preferring it.

"Why, thank you, Captain. You're quite good, yourself."

A slender eyebrow climbs when Jack pokes her chest. Grinning, she snags his finger and pulls up to her lips, nipping it lightly before letting it drop. "Watch the fingers, Captain. I bite." A wink tempers the comment, then she slides into place next to Sands, close but still out of arms reach.

Very softly, she tilts her head in his direction and murmurs just loudly enough for him to hear, "drink all you want. I'm not here to be a bother. I'm just out to have some fun, if that's alright."

Apparently, it isn't enough to mollify him, making her sigh as she watches him walk away. "Well, that went well."

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Norrington shakes his head in bewilderment as Sands slips away from him.

"Intelligence coves." He says. "There's no accounting for them. None whatsoever. Well, at least we got him out of the building for a little while. I'll check on him tomorrow, if I'm still here."

He's a little disappointed that Sands is gone, to be honest. He rather likes the CIA man's wit, and the way he lightly mocks Sparrow.

After picking up the discarded rum and handing it back to Jack, he politely offers his arm to Ran in 17th century fashion. "It seems his position is vacant. Would you care to take it up, madam? Refusal will not offend, I assure you."

Jack takes the bottle and takes several, deep draughts as he stares off after Sands, barely hearing anything Norrington says. His mood is quite thoroughly ruined with that strange sort of empathy he has for his double. Or, perhaps, he's always capable of this sort of identification with another's position, he just chooses not to.

He scowls and turns, taking another sloshing swig from what remains of the bottle and stomping off down the horrid underworld street toward the club.
"It's not far now. Those lights up ahead...with the orange and yellow? Right."
Oh, there will be more drinking now, and less talking should be be able to help it.

Ran drapes her hand along Norrington's arm and moves to walk beside him, but her good mood seems to have soured a bit. A tiny frown creases her features as she shrugs, trying to look nonchalant.

"The intelligence division in Seireitei were always an overly secretive bunch... and stiff as fucking boards, too."

It's plainly obvious the curse is still running stong.

And thus, under a slight cloud of confusion at Sands' sudden departure, they strolled past a faceless doorman into Club Automatica.

Norrington blinked in the near darkness, surrounded by noise and punctuated by the occasional flash of of lights. The club was packed with the shapes of people outlined against the spotlight, fuzzy around the ages, and smelled of smoke and bodies. They found themselves a table in the corner (although not too far from the dancing girls, on Sparrow's insistence and much to James' chagrin) and sat down with some drinks. Norrington opted not to be adventurous and asked for beer, and then nearly spat it out again in surprise when he was presented with a trendy belgian lager.

"What in heaven's name is this?" He spluttered, sniffing at it and peering in the half light. "It barely tastes of anything, there's not a bit of sediment. And it's got bubbles in it. That can't be right."

"I've found not one of the drinks to be right in any real sense. Some are bloody brilliant, though. Not the beer, however...that's piss."

Jack waves a waitress over. She asks what he wants and he confesses that what he would like is for her to be dancing on their table, or at least replace the poor skinny girl working on the stage, as her breasts and buttocks are both too small. With that out of the way, however, he orders two 'Dead Bastards' and a bottle of Captain Morgan 'private stock'. "And, of course, whatever these two are having. Which, in the Commodore's case, would include her breasts..." Jack points to a well endowed dancer. "..on his face as soon as possible."

This comment causes Norrington to cringe back along the long seat around their table, and glance nervously over at the excessively blonde dancer, who, as she gyrates, seems to need an extra few seconds to allow outlying areas to catch up with the rest her.

"Sparrow! You cannot be serious!" He splutters, turning to the waitress. "Believe me, that won't be necessary, I'm quite all right keeping my distance."

With a roll over her eyes, Ran tells the waitress to 'surprise her, extra large, please', then pleasantly warns her to refrain from trying to water the drinks down just because she's a girl. Done ordering, she turns her attention to the stage and tilts her head to the side, gazing at the young women dancing.

"Gentlemen, there are far prettier girls here. I'm sure neither of you would have trouble finding one to dance for you if you asked nicely"

She leans back in the chair, smiling warmly at the men.

"I refuse to ask, nicely or otherwise. Believe me, I'm quite happy for them to dance right where they are. Over there." Norrington replies, his embarassment further compounded by Ran's response. He's used to nice, demure, corsetted girls who flutter fans and talk about what they'll be doing when the next season comes. And of course, Miss Swann, who although she's a tad rash and ruthless, is, let's face it, no overly well endowed in the chestal area, and certainly not in such an obvious fashion.

Resigning himself to a fate worse than or equivalent to breasts, Norrington decides to take the coward's way out and drink himself into not caring any more. He addresses himself to the waitress, resisting the urge to order a bottle of the house Claret. "Bring on the rum, please, in generous amounts."

"I know you're happy with the girls in the distance, and that is why I want them over here. Our wager was that I would show you how I live and that you would see if it rates as well as your more ... reserved lifestyle."

Jack slides one of the two small glasses that come with his order over to Norrington. Inside is a tall mix of brandy, bourbon, gin, rum and lime. The pirate downs his own in two large swallows and smiles at Ran.
"Or perhaps Ran will dance for you, James? How about it, love? Is a simple 'please' really all it takes, eh? To be honest, I'm well aware how easily I could have a show from many of the girls in this city. Beautiful ones such as yourself. But when I'm paying for it, I know exactly what the girl is expecting in exchange. It's comforting."

Hoist by his own petard as usual, dash it all. He had said that. Sparrow's logic was impeccable, for once in his rambling life.

Best get fortified then. He takes hold of the drink Sparrow slid over and downs it in similar fashion, and then steels himself as if for battle.

"Right. Bring them on."

Ran laughs and slides her fingers over her chilled glass, leaving behind a discolored streak. She levels a wicked smile at both men and shrugs. "I'd have to have a bit more in my system, but I assure you, I can out dance any woman in the building."

The smiles twitches up a notch as her gaze turns to the taller man. "I'm sure I could be convinced, if that's what you really want."

"Finally...things are getting interesting. My vote, if anyone is interested -though I wager not most often- is that we have the lovely working girl over at the stage give a bit of a show and then, Ran love, you can show us what you can do. Norrington here may be the judge as I am surely too jaded and already biased in your favour, besides."

Jack grins widely at his brilliant new idea and takes the cap from his bottle of rum to get back to the important matter of assuring he remembers none of this in the morning.
"What say you, Commodore?"

The erstwhile Commodore looks at the stage, then looks at Ran (very carefully keeping his eyes on her face and off everywhere else) with a certain amount of admiration and worry, then at Jack, then back at the stage again. Back in the real world, he'd have been heading for the door in disgust by now, if he'd even come in at all, but this strange dream city has different rules for its people.

The drink is definitely starting to kick in now, and the kick in question is somewhere between a furious donkey, and a Chuck Norris roundhouse, and truth day has a terrible power.

"Fine. Bring the dancing girls over, for as Sparrow says, they're given proper recompense for flaunting themselves. But I won't have you degrade yourself, Lieutenant. You're a fine figure of a woman, seeming full of drive and passion, who I'd have been proud to have under my command, despite any question of gender, and it would be beneath you, however much I'm sure you'd have an amusing time doing it. No, I won't have you sully your beauty with such...GAH."

At this point, he realises what he's saying and claps his hands over his mouth in horror.

Each word of praise from the Commodore sends slim eyebrows climbing higher and higher. "Well, good sir, I'm so thrilled to hear someone here thinks so highly of me. If I remembered my captain back home, I'd like to think his opinion of me was as kind."

One quick gulp and the odd drink is gone, leaving Ran staring down at the glass. "That wasn't what I had in mind... too sweet." She motions to the waitress and orders another 'surprise' and shoo's her off before she leans back even more in her chair and smiles smugly at Captain Sparrow.

"The thing he doesn't seem to realize is that most women like to flaunt themselves in one way or another, especially women like me."

As Ran leans back, Jack lets his eyes wander. Why hide it, given conversation? Still...there are other things distracting him. Unpleasant memories and thoughts.
"Exactly the thing, love. I've yet to meet the beautiful woman who was not fully aware of the effects she had on men. It's a thing to take pride in, most certainly, and a gift quite often abused."
His lip curls a bit, but he takes another pull from the bottle and erases the tension from his face.

Somewhere through the alcoholic haze, some part of Norrington wished the floor would open up and swallow him. He was starting to see why Ran intimidated Sands so much. She had it, and she knew it.

"All right then." He said, after a little more steeling of himself. "If you insist, Lieutenant. Do as you like."

Ran accepts a new drink from the waitress with a murmured word of thanks and takes a sip before she turns her wide smile back to her companions.

"Maybe later, Commodore. After we've all had a few more. I wouldn't want you to be embarassed, even if I knew Captain Sparrow wouldn't be."

Hearing his doom postponed for a little longer, Norrington decides it's time to carefully divert the subject elsewhere before Jack unleashes dancing girls on him.

"Later, yes of course." He waves the hand not currently occupied in drinking. "Now, I've been meaning to ask you about that interesting sword for some time, Lieutenant. I've never seen a design like that before. Is it standard issue or a personal possession?"

A proud gleam shines in her eyes as she slides a loving palm over Haineko's saya. Nimble fingers slide the lacquered sheathe free of her belt and move to lay in on the table. "All shinigami are given unnamed blades, but when they rise in the ranks, they're given the chance to chose or be chosen by one of the named zanpaktous. She chose me."

After a quick glance around to make sure no one else was paying attention, she slides the blade free with a satisfying rasp. The metal is a soft, shining silver, ending in a wicked tip.

"She's a good one, but she's a little lazy at times... and she complains when I have a hangover. It gives her a headache too."

She pauses, realizing she was rambling...

"Would you fine gentlemen like to meet her?"

((Sorry. I've just been burnt out on rp really suddenly. I have fun and I like doing it but at the same time I just can't sit at a computer for hours on end. So I kind of used Ran and Sands' impotence as an excuse for him to bail.))

[[ooc: Woman, you have less patience than me and seem to be twice as capricious. XD Don't worry about it in the slightest. I'll need sleep soon anyway.]]

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Oh look, they're getting drunk again, what a surprise. (Log, Incomplete)

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