psl | ofmd

[singlemalts]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[singlemalts]

[ Not until Teach has sat down does Michel come to a halt, leaning on his desk slightly in a way that might have seeemed domineering in most men, but in him, between them, seems more forthcoming, friendly even.

He chuckles at the comment about age, she does catch up to everyone, though Teach looks a good decade younger than him, going by his features, the amount of lines around his eyes. They're kind, when he smiles. But still, ten years, if not more. Life, Michel thinks again and glances briefly at the bottle of good red Goulaine on his desk, brought all the way here from the homeland. Ah, but it seems he shall have to break out another glass, then. Humming to himself, he waves his hand at Teach to encourage him to keep talking, he's listening, while Michel heads for the large cupboard to the right, fishing down another elegant wine glass and returning with a companionable: ]

Of course, the winds, the winds. [ A nonchalant wave of his hand that says, I don't know anything about all that, but I trust your expertise. ] I suppose you're here - [ Here meaning less in Michel's office and more anchored somewhere out of view of the harbour. Did they use to come in all the way? How many liberties had the former governor granted them? The King would be furios, no wonder he hasn't heard of this from anyone. No wonder Michel hasn't either, in extension.

Well, in reality, you had to consider how many liberties these men deserved. Teach is a person like anyone else, evidently. So his crew must be, too. It's only logic, and Michel is not a barbarian. Far from it. ] - because you can't catch much of anything on empty storages. Or am I wrong?

[ More humming. From anyone else, it might sound like a threat, but not with him. Not like this. He looks over at Teach with a smile, putting down the empty glass and his own emptied one as well, placing them next to each other and picking up the bottle of Goulaine, giving it a slight shake. The question comes completely effortlessly, no fanfares, but certainly no hesitation either. ]

Wine? It's a good vintage, a couple decades old. I was your age when this was made, I believe. Time flies.

[toleap]

[ 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. ]

[singlemalts]

[ A business endeavour, Teach says. Michel raises both eyebrows, tutting gently and pouring them both a full glass, pushing one towards the other man, the pirate. It takes not just any man, but evidently this man especially to build that amounts to a pirate empire on the waves. Not many can do that. Michel is either a fool or a hero facing him like this, people would think. What Michel thinks? ]

You're preaching to the choir, Mr. Teach. I believe most of us who live here now sees Martinique as a business endeavour which is truly a shame, considering how beautiful it is. How much more it could be, yes, but the world is what it is and we all need to eat. Necessities.

[ Another handwave, before he takes his own glass and sips it, watching Teach over the rim of it intently. The man is adjusting to the general stability of the ground here, no waves to reign over, no merchant vessels to intimidate into cooperation. Michel understands the terms. Working with Blackbeard comes with its merits. If he doesn't take this town, his pirate friends will take their cue and don't do so either.

Imagine, to be such a name. Michel is only the man who assaults young men, although Julian was neither much younger than him and it was far from an assault. His lips twist for a moment, and he sips his wine once more.

Only now does he take his seat as well, making them finally sit face to face, as equals, on equal height. He finds his quill and a fresh sheet of parchment, scribbling down the date in the corner. ]

I can allow you clear passage. Access to the vendors you need and know, but it will be on the terms of discretion. You and your men shall behave with understanding and adherence to the ways of the land. If you do, we can no doubt be convinced you are merely visitors, to be treated with the generosity and respect such men demand.

[ A beat, the quill lowering without spilling ink anywhere. As a lawyer, Michel knows the way of ink intimately. He looks over at Teach with a friendly, slightly amused smirk. ]

And what do you think that's worth?

[toleap]

[ 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. ]

[singlemalts]

[ What had he expected, writing down the contract which would be sure to disappear into the pirate's pocket and thus, disappear from all official records, should anything happen. Pirates knew nothing if not how to vanish things. From your shores, your towns, your pockets. And this man in front of him?

Michel taps the end of the quill onto the parchment, blotting ink in an elegant cluster of ink islands. Meets Teach's eyes, kind eyes, full of warmth, mirth, easily amused if you know, learn what buttons to push, what hidden compartments sit waiting inside of him. Michel smiles, gestures broadly with both hands, quill quivering in all its feathery fibres.

What more could he want, than to do his job, work for Martinique, keep her safe and sound? Well, he is more than this island they've dumped him on for moral transgressions and bad rep. Michel is more than what is good for the country. He looks at Teach and thinks, so is he.

Pursing his lips tightly, he leans in and, without answering, quickly scribbles down a brief note. Clear passage everywhere on the condition of good behaviour. Send the Captain to the governor's mansion on first sight. And probably second and third. But let that be what it is. Powdering the contract over quickly, he blows on it a few times, then pushes it over towards the other man. Quill, too. Holds it out. ]

A little bit of company in my old age, Edward. I meet many people, more than half I wish I never had and the half I wish would stay, well... Life takes us here and there and a bit of everywhere, doesn't it? [ A headshake and a deep sigh. ] When your ship docks here, come and see me. That's the only condition. The rest is fair exchange, I'm sure we'll agree.

[ He gives the quill a small shake, offering it with a warm openness to his expression. Michel can be kind, too. And more importantly, he wants to. Whatever else he wants, and there are many things, a fair few that could include Edward Teach as well, that goes first. Kindness. ]

[toleap]

[ 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. ]

[singlemalts]

[ Teach takes the quill, reads the terms and then, proceeds to change them.

Which must, of course, be said to be the really exciting part about the whole exchange. For their roles to be leveled out, not made unimportant, simply equal. Truly, anything else would be abhorrently unfair.

Michel has never been one to mind corrections anyway, it's how your learn and adapt and make it comfortable, pleasurable for others to be in your general vicinity. It's a condition of any functional relationship. And always what is missing, when it is anything less. Thus, his pride or masculinity or what have you isn't terribly offended when the other man, notorious pirate captain or not, scribbles in easily discernible handwriting above Michel's own stricken-out words. Visits. Willingly. He simply smiles, holds both hands up in front of himself as if to wave off the whole implicated matter. It's not a battle for power, a show of dominance or anything of the sort. It is simply one man to another saying, you don't have to order me, I'll come on my own.

As it should be, isn't it? As anyone should most want it.

So, Michel takes the document, folds it up twice over and holds it out to Teach, knowing it'll disappear easily in a pocket this way, but always be right at hand. As is its purpose. The meaning of it. ]

It'll be a greater honour to me if you come of your own volition under any circumstances. [ And then, completely casually, he gestures to the same cupboard that the wine glass came from, indicating a row of old flasks and bottles on display. ] Like tonight. A glass of whiskey before you go? I have an excellent Scottish single malt that I would like if you tried with me. Some roasted nuts. Biscuits.

[ And before waiting for the other man's reply, not as if to say it doesn't matter that he says yes, not to imply that Michel would ever force neither alcohol nor his company upon him, but to show that he'll have himself that whiskey with or without Teach because it's good and it's been a long night, however, with Teach it'll simply be that tiny bit better, Michel gets up and walks over to the cupboard, grabbing the old, brown flask of whiskey, two tumblers, a tray. Small bowls of nuts and salted things. Arranges with efficient neatness.

Then, he walks right back and starts serving up. This time it does say, you can't say no to this, surely. Or maybe he's hoping it'll be enough that the other man doesn't want to. Michel knows, if nothing, what you can offer others that makes life a little nicer, a little easier than it was before.

And that making such offers, as well as accepting them, is what binds people together. ]