Jack is depressed

He reached over the small bar and grabbed two bottles of rum that had been pushed out of sight, pulled the cork of one out with his teeth and took a big slug of the liquor. Jack Rackham was depressed. All around him the brothel was filled with men and women drinking and fucking, even Anne who was upstairs with max was drunk and fucking. Everyone but him. The stench and noise was getting to him, fuck this place, fuck them all. Jack pushed through the throng of flesh out into the street for fresher air. Another swig of the rum started to make him feel a little better and he headed down to the beach. How Anne could have betrayed him like this was a mystery. It wasn't as if they were exclusive or anything but he knew that max was manipulating her and Anne would get hurt and he'd be there to pick up the pieces. He dreaded to think what would happen if she truly left him. Jack and Anne had been together for years, like family. Except you didn't occasionally fuck your sister. Well, not that anyone admitted to anyways.

Even though it was late the street was filled with people, the merchants mostly open, sailors fighting, the sounds of music from the tavern and brothel all clamouring for space. It was quieter towards the beach and halfway down the bottle of rum he stopped by some rocks just outside the light of the last torch and made himself comfy, listening to the surf and staring out into the harbour.

After his earlier misadventures, Vane found himself alone on the beach, out of sight of all the nightly ruckus he was usually so fond of. It wasn’t that he was hiding as such, he had no one to hide from. Tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, just him, a smoke and a bottle of rum.

Lounging back against a mound of sand, the captain exhaled a puff of smoke, removing the cigar from his lips. He could just about hear the drunken cheers and laughter, the yells and screaming of the people of Nassau, the sound of free people. It was unusually calming. It was home.

With a glance further up the sandy beach, he spotted a figure dragging his feet; even from this distance he could recognise the man. Jack Rackham would stand out in a crowd of a thousand, it was hard to miss him really.

Pushing himself up off the sand, Vane placed the cigar back to his lips and grabbed the bottle of rum as he stalked over to his ex-quartermaster.

“Jack.” The captain spoke in a gravelly voice as he sat inelegantly next to the other man, unconcerned if he was welcome or not.

“Where’s Anne? I thought you were inseparable.”

O great, now Vane was here to torment him, could this day get any worse? "Charles." He nodded and knocked back most of what was left in the bottle,
"she's fucking that whore...AGAIN. And I wasn't even invited." He grumbled, not that Vane would give a damn. He waved the little towards his former captain, "drink?" He scratched himself as the sand got into his breeches. Throwing off his hat he leaned back swatting a moth away, he missed being on board a ship, missed the water and open sea, this place was stifling him.

Shaking his head, Vane raised his own bottle of rum to decline the other's offer. "Heh.. Then we have somethin' in common." The whore had gotten around so it seemed, of course having started with Eleanor and now moved onto Jack's woman.. Not that he could even imagine Jack and Anne separated for long.

"She'll come back. You wouldn't survive apart for too long." Vane drawled out, a small grunt of a laugh finishing off his sentence. These two would be together forever, the world would end before they did.

"I thought you were tryin' to get your own crew t'gether. No one willin' to follow you?"

"actually I'm not so sure about that. She's changed." Another swig of rum and the bottle was almost empty, how the hell did that happen? " Its more her looking after me now, than the other way around. FUCK! When did my name become shit Charles? Why can't life be simpler? What happened to just piracy, rum and fucking? Life was simple then."
Jack lay back resting the bottle on his chest, his words had started slurring. At least one thing was heard in the right direction.
"What about you Captain?"

“Lust is a powerful thing.” A small smile plagued the captain’s lip as he flicked the end of his cigar into the sand nearby, taking up the rum for a deep swig. Lust was something Vane knew a lot about and it wasn’t something he was afraid to embrace. He also knew it to be something that didn’t last, but tending to Jack’s emotional wounds wasn’t on the list of things he was planning on doing tonight.

“That was probably when you both decided to take it into your own hands to kill off the remainin’ of my crew for that exact whore your woman is fuckin’ as we speak.” Although the words were harsh, they weren’t spoken with malice, not anymore. Sure, when he’d first found out, he was more than slightly fucked off, but this was Jack.. And for some reason unknown to Vane, he just couldn’t stay angry at him. If anyone else had done that, they’d have been dead, but Jack and Anne.. They had a place with him, not that he’d ever let them know that.

“I’m good Jack.. Couldn’t be better.” Lips curling, he took another gulp of liquid, enjoying the warming feeling as it settled in his stomach. “Took care of some business earlier and got myself a ship out of it.”

"yes well, it wasn't my idea to do that...she thought that one up all by herself....it was a bit extreme for me..." he weighed the rum knowing that if Vane was pissed with him he'd be dead by now. This man didn't hold grudges for long. "O yeah? You got a ship??? Don't happen to need a quartermaster by any chance?"

Finishing the first bottle he opened the second one, it was getting a bit warm but who cared? "Damnit, I need to fuck. Everyone else is...I own a bloody whorehouse and I can't even get laid, that's what I'm reduced to...a pirate without a ship a whoremaster with no whores to play with. I should just blow my brains out and have done with it. It's all fine and dandy for you, your own ship, the fort. Lucky bastard." His hand was shaking so hard he spilled some alcohol over his shirt, swearing he wiped at his chest.

"I might've removed the black mark from your name, Jack, but I don't think my crew would forgive me if I allowed you back on board." Finishing up the last of his drink, Vane tossed the bottle somewhere over his shoulder.

"A sad existence." Another small grunt of a laugh passed the captain's lips as he listened to the other man's pitiful whining. "But I work for what I've got, luck's got nothin' to do with it. You've just got to be willin' to get your hands dirty." It was true, everything he had was gotten was through dirty means, but that was how things worked out here... Jack was sometimes a bit too soft.

Eyes lingered over the other man's features, or at least what he could see of them in this light, an idea popping into his mind. "Just how much do you want to fuck exactly?"

"ugh, don't care what you say...hic...is luck all the wayyy" with a loud belch he agreed," I know, they won't have me, no one will have me now, I mm mm a prariahhh" he shook himself as a cool breeze came in off the sea carrying with it the smell salt. "Sorry been maudlin all day. God I'm horny" he scratched at his crotch, "what? You know of anyone available?"

Vane may have been his captain once but they'd been through enough as brothers to be at ease with each other, and he respected Charles, as much as he respected anyone that would stab him just because he was in a bad mood. But in a strange sort of way they were friends of a kind. Time on board ship had made them so when their lives were in each other's hands. Long as that was over now, those kind of ties didn't fade easily.

Vane could hardly be considered sober by this point, in a matter of fact, he was miles from it, but Jack was fucking wasted. "As it happens, I do." The captains eyes roamed the other's body, weighing up what he really wanted from his long time accomplice.

Lounging back slightly, a smirk played on Vane's lips. "Suck my cock, Jack." Simply, he waited for a response, probably a sputter as he choked on air or rum... Much better his dick.

"hmmm? Christ I was just saying" he sat up wiping at the rum still before giving it up as a bad job and pulled the shirt off his lanky frame to wipe at himself with it, why Vane had to swear at him was beyond him. Maybe he'd been whining too much. "So where's this vision of beauty hot for fucking? And how much is it going to cost me?" Totally wasted and oblivious.

Watching the other in disbelief, Vane took a short moment to realise this was Jack he was talking to; as smart as he could be in some areas, he was a total fucking idiot in others. His reaction made perfect sense for Jack, drunk or not.

"Do you ever stop 'n listen to yourself?" Feeling moderately turned off by the other man's reaction, the captain's eyes went back to the sea. "You shouldn't be allowed to talk sometimes, Jack. You ruin your own opportunities before you even know they're there."

"you know what...I actually don't...I think it'd be dangerous if I did..." he giggled stupidly at his own humour and swigged some more rum.
"Jack Rackham... dangerous pirate...I like the sound of that if only my name wasn't worth shit around here. Maybe I need to open a room at the whorehouse? I might actually get a fuck or two and some profit" he burst out laughing, "c'mon Vane, you can be the first customer ! But bring rum....lots of rum!" He flailed his arms about along with the almost empty second bottle. He really was wasted and he didn't care, it beat feeling bad about everything and himself.