singlemalts: (nine | good surprise then)
Michel ([personal profile] singlemalts) wrote2024-06-22 07:36 pm
Entry tags:

psl | ofmd





[ Martinique, then. Ah, well, still French soil, they say, though upon arrival, Michel wasn't so certain that was a definition he'd immediately ascribe to. It didn't smell like Paris here, which might in most cases be for the better, and the guvernor's mansion was quite grand and luxurious, but he'd left his wife, now former, and his son, now uninterested in talking to him, back on real French soil and had shipped out to this job, only because it seemed gentler on all of them. Easier. And because his father would have been proud.

The reasons a man can find to move to a different part of the Earth and most likely end his life there, really. Were they good? Who knew. Would it pay off? Who could say. Life!

He's up late tonight, as he is most nights, because since his arrival a month and a half ago, his new home has been overrun by people, politicians and merchants and captains who want deals and treaties and contracts, to make their life easier. And because Michel can extend that favour to them, he does. Much of it is his job. The rest is his fancy. If nothing else, the menagerie of characters is somewhat interesting to witness.

He's reading over the final contract he's just finished for a M. Bernard, importer of alcohol and spirits, allowing him an advantage of several percentages in distribution pricing. Sell it cheaper, sell it more, yes? Signing it lazily, Michel finally stands up, pushing the parchment out of the way and walking over to the windows, looking out onto the dark streets below. The governor's mansion is smack in the middle of Fort-de-France, everybody should be allowed convenient access, after all. Isn't that why the governor is there in the first place?

That's why Michel is here, at least. So It seems. He stretches, hands clutching at his lower back while he grunts slightly. Below, he can hear the servants milling about, someone calling out quietly, a door opening.

Ah, another midnight guest! Isn't that what life's about?

Michel turns around slowly, awaiting the newcomer with a far-from-credulous smile. ]



toleap: (twelve)

[personal profile] toleap 2024-06-22 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[ They're anchored in their usual inlet south of the island, the Queen Anne lying in wait further out whilst the Snapper's closer to shore and Ed's wasted no time at all, making his way to Fort-de-France by foot. It's always a journey, three hours at least, and he'd get on a horse if all of them weren't by default four-legged death machines - instead, he'd hailed a carriage once he could and made himself comfortable for the last duration of his trip. The carriage has the added advantage of curtains. Ed's wearing a long, dark coat over his usual get-up (thanks, yeah, it's hot as fuck in this weather, even with the stars out and the sun in hiding) but the beard's hard to disguise and even if it doesn't necessarily give him away, it makes him stand out.

He doesn't need any of that shit for this little outing.

They'd been told by messenger bird once the old governor had been replaced. At the time, they'd been a good many miles out from Barbados but Ed has contacts on Martinique for such purposes and naturally, they'd never dare to let him down; consequently, the news had been actual news when they arrived, not too back-dated. He'd decided to investigate the newcomer right away and Izzy had grudgingly agreed because the man might at times be a little slow on the uptake, but the gains of having political clout are pretty fucking obvious, no matter how impressive Blackbeard's reputation becomes.

Ed kinda fears the day when he won't even have to care about stuff like this anymore. When even the tiny, strategic squiggles of the game even out.

Prefers not to think about it, really.

A good few of the servants in the guvorner's house are familiar to him and they let him in without a fuss. He makes his way to the first floor, dropping his long overcoat in the hall, his leathers creaking as he walks. He pauses in front of the closed door, raises one, leather-clad fist and knocks a couple of times for the sake of politeness. Enter, comes a voice from inside and Ed straightens a little, chin raised, and steps inside.

He meets the new guy's gaze immediately and holds it as he closes the door behind him with one arm. ]


The newly-appointed governor, I presume.

[ He strides across the floor and holds out his hand in greeting. He's met rich types who, at first sight (and second and third, really, except then they'd been under duress and less likely to fuck around with him) wouldn't wanna even touch him - it's always a great way to settle your initial impressions of someone. ]
toleap: (eleven)

[personal profile] toleap 2024-06-22 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Well, there you have it. Ed shakes his hand, his slightly impassive expression warming into a smile as he accepts the staging set by Laurent (Michel, says the man, who apparently has no need of formal shields), such as it is - that in here, now, he's not Blackbeard but Edward and whilst he hasn't used his last name in basically forever (it's his Dad's last name, what the fuck do you want here), something about being met like that, like a person rather than the shadow of one - that's nice. Nearly makes the long trip through the jungle worth his while. ]

Don't mind if I do. Legs definitely in favor of a rest - age catches up to all of us, doesn't she.

[ The knee, in particular, but there's no need to get overly specific here. He sinks down into the chair, stretching out his legs and bending one to fold it over his thigh. It a slouch, basically. The chair's excellent, doesn't even creak beneath him but then again, that's the rich life for you. He's got a very sturdy chair in his own cabin, too, lifted off a three-deck Spanish gunship. Quality's a way of life and he wouldn't be a pirate if he didn't get it. He looks Michel over briefly, one eyebrow slightly quirked. ]

Sorry for barging in on you this late, we've got some winds to catch in the morning.

[ They couldn't do a layover in Bridgetown, what with having, uh, commandeered the Snapper only days earlier after it left Barbados. Coming all the way from Nassau, it had been a bit of a bust - all things being equal, he's got a big crew to feed and not enough left in storage for the return-trip. Logistics. Boring. But people gotta eat, he supposes.

With the deal he used to have in Martinique, however, they would've been able to moor both ships right down in the harbor like fancy folks on pleasant business. Hah. But more importantly, they would've also had access to certain warehouses, certain vendors and he could really use that deal now. Looking at Michel, he's got a great feeling, too.

Man's the right type. ]
toleap: (five)

[personal profile] toleap 2024-06-23 09:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ It strikes him then, as Michel waves him onwards and heads for his cupboard (presumably to find another wine glass, man seems to be the type) that he hasn't been in the company of any none-pirate who weren't on the brink of shitting themselves for... what? Weeks? Months? It's almost jarring once it hits him; being met like this, like any other guest, even though the man clearly knows who he is, has said as much and simply left it like that, a fact and nothing more. He's either an immensely talented actor or simply unintimidated and fuck, Ed hopes it's the latter.

Would be new. Would be different.

Judging by his follow-up, it might indeed be his lucky day - Michel susses out the business Ed used to have with the former governor and puts it out like they're just talking about the color of the fucking sky or the wind in the trees. Easy as that. Empty storages, yeah. Exactly. He tilts his head a little to the side, watching the other man with an even keener interest and nodding towards the beautiful wine glass, restraining himself from running his fingers over it. ]


So it does.

[ He's not used to people seeing past the beard and all the grey so easily, nor willingly. He's Blackbeard. He's a myth, ageless, certainly not young. And well, he isn't, not anymore but compared to Michel, he's not exactly old, either.

Perhaps that's what ageless actually means. ]


Yeah, the waters around here are generally safe - if I don't want it, chances are my friends don't either, you know how that goes, right? If it ain't in, it's out. [ His smile sharpens a fraction. ] And vice versa, as it were. Martinique, to me, is a business endeavor; I'd love to keep it that way.

[ He's had to wrestle Vane around a bit - metaphorically, thanks - to keep his prior agreements stable and functioning but helpfully, Jack's always prepared to get that psycho distracted (hopefully, also on a figurative level but who really knows or cares). He's got his cards, safe and sound. He leans back in the chair, his butt slipping off for a few inches before he pushes himself back against the backrest. He's used to the movements of the sea. Gotta compensate when everything's at a stand still. ]
toleap: (Default)

[personal profile] toleap 2024-06-23 11:14 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wine's a very deep, dark red - not necessarily what he'd expect of some fancy French shit - and when he sips it, it coats his tongue in heavy notes of wood, smokiness. Touch of blackberry, maybe, if he remembers right. He closes his eyes for a second whilst Michel talks, just savoring the taste of it. It's luxurious. Extremely nice. He'll need to get himself some of that, he decides, and enjoy it on his own in his cabin, maybe share a drink with Izzy because if nothing else and unlike the rest of his crew, he'd know how expensive it is from the taste alone. Might not appreciate it much, the way Ed does, but that's par for the course in their relationship, isn't it, and there's no use lamenting it. Most days, Izzy barely does what he's told to do but he gets shit done in the end, regardless.

He opens his eyes, listening to the rest of Michel's terms with maybe half his actual attention span, the wine still heavy and warm at the back of his throat. Another sip. Mmm. Fucking good. Anyway, yes, adherence to the ways of the land, that'll be Izzy's job, keeping them all on the straight and narrow. It's fine. They can be normal about this or they can stay in the fucking brig.

At the question (and the smirk - hm, that looks... pretty good on his face, actually, not evil or condescending as one might expect of a man in his position, it's a nice smirk, round, mild), Ed cocks an eyebrow at him and swirls the liquid around in his glass. ]


The safety of the town. Of the territory, even. [ He gestures loosely towards the window and what lies beyond. ] What more could you want, I wonder?

[ Said with polite curiosity, maybe a slight twitch of his lips because come on, he's not above the implications, even if the old governor definitely didn't appreciate them. Fuck, the pearl-clutching. The outrage. He knows nothing of Michel apart from the fact that he's here when he could be back in France which does signify something, supposedly, but not enough to make any informed guesses. People do lots of stupid shit. It's like a rule of humanity that most decent folks try desperately to brush off as somebody else's fever dream. Something tells him, though, that it'll take more to scare him. Can't blame a man for testing the waters. ]
toleap: (two)

[personal profile] toleap 2024-06-23 01:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Michel looks at him from across the table and Ed looks right back, easily and without hesitation. He's not where he is today for being shy or insecure - at least, he's learned how to push all that crap down so far that it only ever breaches the surface of his mind when he needs it to, when things have to get done in the worst of ways. Right now, though, all he feels is contentment. The lingering after-taste of wine and the warmth of Michel's gaze, the quiet between them infused by the cooling breeze from the window. He leans back a little. Sips his wine again, trying to make it last.

When Michel finally starts writing up his terms on the contract, Ed frowns in concentration as he reads along because yeah, sure, he can read shit upside-down, it's not his favorite thing to do because it kinda makes his head hurt but you know. He's not letting anyone surprise him these days. Too many creeps hoping for a shot, too many items on his fucking dossier to give them the time of day.

Thus, when Michel looks up at him, pushing the contract towards him, he lets the quill hang between them, his gaze darkening for moment. Send the Captain to the governor's mansion, yeah? Yeah? His lips tighten dangerously for a second because from just about anyone else, that would be offensive as fuck and probably deserving of at least a smack-down, if not some proper maiming. But when he meets Michel's gaze, the man looks... open. Uncomplicated and kind. And Ed's chest aches a little in response because kindness is a rare treasure out here and something within him is longing to respond, to echo the sentiment.

He gives the quill another long look. Says, quietly, voice low-pitched: ]


A bit of everywhere, you say.

[ And where did it take you, before it took you here? It's the kinda shit you don't talk about on your first meeting, maybe not on your second either. But perhaps on your third, over a proper glass of expensive wine? Ed's not particularly curious for the sake of strategy or political influence - after all, the man's here, isn't he, and it's gotta be punishment, meaning the sin's already been processed. But it's been a while since he... knew another person. He's got a few friends, sure, meaning they all know each other exactly well enough to spot the next fuckery before it hits them face-first. It's not... quite what he's picking up here. ]

Don't have to make it a condition, mate. I've got nowhere else to be these days. [ As he speaks, he strikes out the first few words and writes above them, his hand-writing a dirty but easily discernible scrawl: The Captain visits the governor's mansion on first sight. ] Gotta fix that, though, in any case - top of the chain, no one's about to send me anywhere.

[ Said with a smile and a small hint of teeth as he signs his name beneath it and turns it back around for Michel to re-read as needed - signature's already there but you know. He's fair. He can afford to be. ]