WC:: 356 -
The captain had taken no amusement in her supposed jokes, only watching her with a deathly seriousness. Now was not the time for jokes. Never was it a time for jokes, unless he called for it to be a time for jokes, which was rare, close to never.
Old-man? Dyin'?
Charcoal gaze narrowed with her words, that irritated anger fueling him enough to hoist his hulking form off of his rump and onto his feet, towering over the small shadow. He had half the mind to grab her by that busted arm and shake her about like a ragdoll for her insolence, though Percival's presence was enough to deter his aggression. An angered sigh hissed from between his ivories, lips curled back, without his realizing. When she donned the jacket, he was quick and brisk to adjust it, pulling at the collar with the kind of strength a militaristic father would use, and buttoning it up.
There. Now ye be prop'r, an' not some uncivilized- he paused to look over the male accompanying the girl, gaze still disapproving. imbecile... Y'look the part of a true lady, now.
Despite his dislike for girls, she was still just a child, and didn't deserve to be exposed to some strange nudist culture. Who on earth did such a thing? Wandering about in their birthday suits, the nerve of some people.
I be fine, Percival. None worse fer wear. The ship hit a rock outcroppin', busted the rudder and sent us straight t' hell, an' spat us back out with nothin'. His tone was dismissive, not wanting to think about watching the crew scrambling to readjust course, trying to save themselves. It was chaos. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was self-servant chaos. T'be frank, them mutinous bilge-suckin' rats d'served it.
Tattered hark gave a flick when he heard the small girl's growl, hand reaching out to administer a reprimanding shove to her right shoulder, lips pursed tight. It wasn't intended as aggression, but for the girl to mind her manners. Careful, lass. I be not afraid to misuse me 'and upon the back o' yer head.
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