bloodmoneyshared

[bloodmoneyshared]

"In a couple years, either the smokes or the whiskey is gonna kill me. Just waiting to find out which." Hector replied with a wry smile on his face. The kind of smile that wrinkled his eyes at the corners and creased his cheeks. "Hopefully they me someone with half a brain to train."

The old harbormaster paused to give Lorcan a once over. Really eye the kid up with the kind of inquisitive curiosity only permitted for children and the elderly. Hector might be middle-aged, but he considered himself older. Wise by nature of the salt and blood, old by the years he'd given to the sea.

"You don't wanna be stuck here forever, do ya kid?" This time, the question wasn't painted with bitter amusement or a dig for a reaction. This question was earnest, looking for something in Lorcan's face. What that something was, though, wasn't clear. "You gonna grow old and die here like the rest of us, or do something more?"

The bar cast a sickly glow to Hector's skin as he leaned back, the harsh shadows cutting his face into an almost mask-like expression. He laughed with a force that rattled his chest. It was a great heaving thing that made him lean forward after he'd finished throwing back his head.

"Naw, son. Retirement is for the slothful. My mother would rise from her grave and drag me under if I retired." The man scoffed. "I work until death takes me, or the ocean beats him to it."

They'd have to drag his body down the dock after he died in the red-orange sunset only sailors know to appreciate properly. Hector would die with salt air in his lungs and the breeze in whatever hair he had left, even if that meant he had to crawl out of his death bed to do it.

"Somebody's still gotta know the job. Don't want one of Oberron's pretty boys thinkin' they can figure it out while they fuck it up." Hector didn't look Lorcan's way, because he wasn't talking about the boy and didn't want the kid to think he was. Last thing he needed was more of an argument. "It's up to the mayor to promote, course. Gotta hope my word is good for somethin'."

[bloodmoneyshared]

"So yer just one of us townies who thinks being a busy body will save this shithold city from itself?" Barbossa's rasping laugh filtered through cigarette-worn lungs. "If you ever share what yer smokin', I'll be first in line."

What had the last woman he'd been seeing called him? A mean-spirited jackass, right.

Hector knew he was rough enough around the edges to sand down even the best of intentions. That usually worked in his favor, scaring off anyone with morals too good for what Barbossa's job required.

He could see those dark eyes glancing at his book, and Hector had never been a fool. Some good old fashions truth-bending needed to be employed here. He'd bother telling Hades later that Mr not-quite-a-cop had been poking around. For now, he shoved a calloused finger at the pages of his book.

Nothing there would give him away. That was the kind of education you didn't learn in school. Don't keep a paper trail of the wrongs, only the rights.

"Look, boss." The last word was drawled as spiteful as the harbormaster could sound without making it suspicious. "Some was on its way when the storm hit. Captains ain't gonna sail in until they're sure the tide won't crack their hulls on the dock. Some is sitting at the bottom of the ocean right about under yer feet. The rest is god knows where. I'm gonna worry about shit once I know my port and my people are sound."

"If somebody's running around destroying my buildings when I ain't looking, get me the name and I'll drown him myself. Don't need to waste money on a jury." Hector spoke as he walked, cutting from the conversation to shout orders at a group of men who stood talking near one of the warehouses. It scared em enough to hustle off to do whatever Hector had shouted their way. Hopefully.

"Only my workers. Nobody else bothers to stop by...'cept you now I guess." Blue eyes watched Basil, Hector uncaring as to how inconspicuous or suspect he might seem. If this detective had the information to arrest him, they would gave already.

"One of the mayor's boys came asking about what happened. I'm hoping that means some money ends up comin' my way. Don't see no other sorry motherfuckers trying to fix this place." Hector liked it that way. It was his business, his job. Only he knew the ins and outs well enough to run it.

Asking about the cargo of the ships was enough of an inconvenience that Hector pulled out his logbook. Flipping pages, he stopped and dropped it on one of the nearby stacks of crates. Since they'd lost a few storage buildings, the piles were erected everywhere.

"Lumber, dry foodstuffs, some hair shit for the salon, more building material to fix up the warehouses. Real exciting stuff, blue." The old harbormaster knew Basil's name, of course. Just easier to remind them uninvited guest of his place here. No space for law enforcement in a lawless land.

[bloodmoneyshared]

Hector snorted at Tiana's rehrasement of his comment, sans curse word. They had a knack for making things feel a little softer at the edges, including himself. Though, their question made him pause.

"Anywhere? Yeah, once." Hector paused, fingertips rapping the bartop. "Back before Swann bought the Black Pearl out from under Jack." He recalled a much younger Sparrow, a much younger Swann. "I split the cost with Jack. He was just a kid, and I was younger. He had a nice little tavern going for awhile."

Then he'd gone and gambled his money away.

"Little too high brow for people like me there now," Barbossa explained. "Not that Swann wants me there either, little brat." The insult was chuckled, like he almost admired her for it. He missed when she and Jack got along. If they ever truly had, now that he thought about it.

"You keep a fine enough selection of liquor, I'd follow ya for good pours and better company."

"You buy a good whiskey and I'll park my sorry ass in a seat often enough to earn a plaque." If anyone understood good food and drink it would be the little bartender Barbossa favored. They knew more about him than he knew about their life, but that's what made Tiana such a good bartender. Didn't chatter on about themself, and given that he was paying for the whiskey and company, listened to what he had to say.

So many kids in this city didn't bother with dreams. Got outta high school with a degree or determination and either made money scamming people or went broke drinking away their sorrows by 35.

Hector ended up being a bit of both in the end.

"It'll be good to have a half-decent place to eat in town." That was about as close to encouragement as Hector got. Something in his expression was wistful, too. The scowl he wore was blessedly absent.

[bloodmoneyshared]

Hector paused, staring blankly at the boy in front of him. He could feel the sour expression on his face, equal parts flabbergasted and irritated. When did the kids nowadays get so entitled?

"Don't offer help if you ain't gonna do it, kid." The harbormaster snapped, turning away from Tim. "If you can't hold yer word, I can't bother humoring yer greed."

Barbossa had seen too many kids in this town exactly like Timothy. He had no desire to help fund the bad habits of a generation that was already far from his good graces.

"Take a hike."

"You offered," Hector scoffed. His eyes narrowed to points, glowering down at the younger man. "Ain't good on yer word, and can't swim. It's a wonder you survived this long in this town." It wasn't a threat, not yet. Just an affirmation that things happened in this town. Things that weren't always properly investigated.

"I'll toss in five bucks for your trouble, if that'll make those legs work."

[bloodmoneyshared]

A great job. Hector felt the bitter laugh clawing up his chest before he could stop it. A great fucking job? He was doing the best job anyone in the town could have done in this situation.

No one with any real money was gonna help them out, and all he had were the dock workers willing to put their blood and sweat into fixing the place. Even Hades, for all the product Hector facilitated movement of, couldn't give much a damn. Him and his goonies seemed content to watch the Harbormaster clean up any mess that got thrown at him all on his own.

Now he had this little man, who shared his name and nothing else, piddling around while he was honest-to-god trying to get things done.

"Listen, Payne." Or was he Panic or Panique or something? Hector hadn't bothered to learn. "I'm gonna get back to work cleaning this up. Unless yer boss wants to help via green in my pocket, life goes on as normal. Freak storm ain't something I got any say over."

Hector was always skeptical of the people closest to the mayor. The man before him was likely nearer to lackey than partners but the old harbormaster wasn't the trusting sort. Better to play it safe than risk anything making it back to Hades. He pushed the sharp end of the spear into the old wood near his feet and leaned on its handle.

Some of my sailors got hurt. Ships are trashed, parts of the docks are worse. Nobody dead yet that we've found." Small miracles were all he could ask for in a place like this. Not seeing the corpse of someone he called a friend was blessing enough.

"Glad all the town hall lost was a tree." Barbossa didn't sound all that glad though. In fact, he sounded downright spiteful.

Of course nothing the mayor held near and dear was damaged. Made Hector want to burn the whole damn warehouse he'd tried to protect. He was far from starting to believe the whispers that the storm wasn't natural, but shirt like this wasn't helping the case.

Cornflower blue eyes lingered on the muddy water where it lapped at the shore. Rain had spun up the silt into a mess, fogging up the ocean until even the best seamen couldn't see shit. Miserable state to match the miserable weather.

"What brings you down here?" It was as much an accusation as it was a question, spoken with Barbossa's former suspicion. Despite the man's smalltalk, the harbormaster didn't trust his intentions were pure. "Not planning on putting in any hard labor, I trust."

[bloodmoneyshared]

Saying "I Love You" In Other Ways

“Home is wherever you are.”

“Waking up next to you is my favorite of getting up.”

“You look breath taking.”

"This made me think of you."

“I made your favorite! I know you haven't been feeling well.”

“I brought you flowers to brighten your day.”

“You can always call me, even in the dead of the night.”

“Everything is so much more fun when you’re here.”

“Come under my blanket, I know you’re freezing.”

“Please be careful out there.”

"You keep showing up in my dreams."

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Your flaws are the best parts of you.”

"Go put on your favorite movie. I'll make popcorn."

“Here, take my jacket. You look cold.”

“I don’t care what happens, as long as we’re together.”

“Promise you’ll never leave me.”

"Not a day goes by where I don't think about you."

“I’ll stay with you. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Your hand fits perfectly in mine.”

"Here, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

“I’d do anything for you, you know that, right?”

“I want us to grow old together.”

“Why would I watch the stars when I can look at you instead?”

“You have made me a better person.”

“I’ll always try to make you happy.”

"Your smile is infectious."

"I thought it might rain, so I brought you an umbrella."

“Of course I worry about you! You’re important to me.”

“I belong right here with you.”

“Let me take care of you, please.”

“I heard you couldn’t sleep, so I made you some hot tea.”

“I’m only truly me when I’m with you.”

[bloodmoneyshared]

"Course," the harbormaster said with a strained half-smile. It only lasted a second before the expression fell again.

Hector's heel tapped at the floor. No matter how many times they met, the anxiety he'd felt the first time hadn't gone away. Something in him didn't like being here. Same sort of something a prey animal probably felt when it stood smack damn in the middle of a clearing. When Hades smiled like that, sharp at the corners but too calculated to reach his eyes, he appeared every bit the predator.

"Most the product was mid-move anyway," Hector grumbled. Blue eyes glanced toward the decanter with longing before the settled back on Hades. "Some is in the new warehouse we built last fall. That one kept it dry, and the boxes are buried under enough shit that Blue would need a team to carve it out." As he spoke, Hector stuck a finger out with each listed location. "Silver and some of his idiots have packages out on their boats. Those are still floating in the harbor, they waited the storm out in open water. "

Before he finished, Hector's expression darkened. "Some sank with sections of the old docks. The parts I kept sayin' needed to be shored up. If we pull the old building outta the water, the sealed shit should still be good. That's assumin' it didn't get crushed open in the storm."

The mayor's expression remained relaxed. Barbossa sometimes wished he had that skill. Smoothing the expressions from one's face was a talent that Hector lacked.

"I'll make sure there ain't nothing for the kid to get too curious about. Will make sure even harder if you keep that little lackey of yours outta my port. Gonna fall in and drown." Hector huffed. The man who shared his name was far from an experienced sailor. Maybe he could kill two birds and earn himself some deserved privacy. "It'd make it easier to keep eyes on the people you don't trust, is all."

The charming smile and silver tongue only lasted long enough for the liquor to hit his glass, then it was all business. Hector didn't bother swirling the whiskey in his glass, knocking back the pour in one gulp and setting down the glass. He had the good sense not to pour himself another without permission, but his eyes lingered on the bottle. More expensive than what he could afford. Smoother.

"My men don't ask questions, and if they do: I pay em enough to shut 'em up." Hector shrugged. "We still get the shipments in from the city. Product always looks good. We switch the warehouse every week to keep anyone from getting suspicious." The everyday fishermen didn't ask questions so long as none of the Harbourmaster's business got in the way of their own. Hector did care for the people who called the docks home. He didn't want to make their lives any harder or more thankless than they already were.

"We do got one problem," Hector said as his finger tapped the glass. "One of the cops you don't have under yer thumb. Basil-somethin'. Been sniffing around the docks for something." What would have tipped him off about the back-room business? As far as Barbossa was aware, he'd been pretty good about not leaving any paper trails or incriminating evidence. Even if half of the boys in blue were paid to turn a blind eye, he didn't need to make it easy for the ones that weren't. "I'm assuming he ain't supposed to be there. Making my job a hell of a lot harder."

[bloodmoneyshared]

The bar cast a sickly glow to Hector's skin as he leaned back, the harsh shadows cutting his face into an almost mask-like expression. He laughed with a force that rattled his chest. It was a great heaving thing that made him lean forward after he'd finished throwing back his head.

"Naw, son. Retirement is for the slothful. My mother would rise from her grave and drag me under if I retired." The man scoffed. "I work until death takes me, or the ocean beats him to it."

They'd have to drag his body down the dock after he died in the red-orange sunset only sailors know to appreciate properly. Hector would die with salt air in his lungs and the breeze in whatever hair he had left, even if that meant he had to crawl out of his death bed to do it.

"Somebody's still gotta know the job. Don't want one of Oberron's pretty boys thinkin' they can figure it out while they fuck it up." Hector didn't look Lorcan's way, because he wasn't talking about the boy and didn't want the kid to think he was. Last thing he needed was more of an argument. "It's up to the mayor to promote, course. Gotta hope my word is good for somethin'."

"Shae, huh?" Hector let the name roll around in his mouth a moment as he considered the girl. He couldn't recall a woman ever holding the title. The world was changing, though. Barbossa found himself caught behind the times in most cases, something of a traditionalist to put it kindly. He didn't like to change his way of life, even if he didn't enjoy it. He hated to change more.

It was a long line of men running the town into the shitter though. Maybe some fresh faces would do them good.

"Ah, fuck it. Here." Barbossa snagged a paper coaster, scribbling his cell number and the one for the docks office. "Give it to the Shae girl." If he met with her and she wasn't a total entitled idiot like most the young adults around, he could have a chat with her about getting started working the harbor. Get her used to it before she took over. If she took over. Could be a loss in the end, anyway.

Somebody already versed in the dust business would help. If Oberron and Hades kept power, they'd need a loyal harbormaster to get the product in. Sometimes, Barbossa felt like a puppet. At least he was a really rich one.

[bloodmoneyshared]

"You offered," Hector scoffed. His eyes narrowed to points, glowering down at the younger man. "Ain't good on yer word, and can't swim. It's a wonder you survived this long in this town." It wasn't a threat, not yet. Just an affirmation that things happened in this town. Things that weren't always properly investigated.

"I'll toss in five bucks for your trouble, if that'll make those legs work."

Hector gave the boy a suspicious look, brow raised in doubt of the lie that Tim let slip so carelessly. Seaside townies usually got taught to swim one way or another. Hell, Barbossa's own daddy had tossed him in the water the day after his 5th birthday and told him to figure it out. Dangerous place to live if you didn't know how. Which meant this kid was sheltered or stupid.

"Runner then?" Hector said with a huff. It almost sounded like a laugh to the untrained ear. A friend would know it was a mocking one. "Sure, I could use a runner."

Fishing through his pockets, he produced a water-stained notepad and a sharpie. Scribbling a note onto the page, he folded it twice and passed it to the younger man. After seeing the detective snooping around again, Hades should know. Just in case. Plus, this saved him having to haul his old ass up to the manor.

"Take this to the mayor. Don't open it, or I'll send a couple cops to yer fucking bar." It wasn't Tim's bar of course, but Hector knew Peter wouldn't appreciate a handful of police in his gang's hangout. Hopefully, the kid was a good listener.

[bloodmoneyshared]

The dim bar lights weren't doing anything to illuminated the sketches, casting oblong shadows on the page as the man leaned in. Barbossa peered at the drawings before, with a grumble, pulling a pair of small reading glasses out of his pocket. He perched them on his nose and looked at the artwork properly.

"Not bad," he appraised. "Not that I know shit 'bout art, but they look like my girls." His girls, bobbing and drifting in their home port. One of the renditions of the Atlantis was near enough to life that he thought he might feel the barnacles if he ran his finger across the page.

Color Hector impressed.

Never saw many talented folks around anymore. Not any that bothered with him. It was refreshing. Warmed his old, frozen heart so to speak.

"You do anything with this? Money, I mean. Might be worth something." Barbossa tapped a page with one finger. "I'd buy this one off ya."

"Ain't boats. Ships. Callin' em boats is like calling a lady a bitch. Works the same but one's a hell of a lot more polite." Barbossa chuckled, certain that he'd earn a foul expression for such a comment. Though he didn't turn his head to catch it. "But these ships yer drawing, you willing to show me? I know some people are shy 'bout shit like that."

Most of the ships out there were his, or owned by his friends. Or the city, course. He knew them by their names, like the Second Star or the Wicked Wench. Some of the men got real creative when it came to naming a sailing vessel. Hector had all of them written down on the dock ledger, but he knew them by memory. A good harbormaster never forgot who called his port home.

"Not many artistic types see a dive like this and find it inspirational. Nicer spots in town for that." One finger tapped the cover of her sketchbook. The words weren't meant maliciously, said with a crooked smile. His momma always said a smile couldn't sit straight on his face. One canine poked out over salt-chapped lips every time. "And I believe that boy proved why."

Not many people under 40 frequented this spot in particular. Miss Liddel didn't look the type to go headhunting for a man or woman with extra cash, which was usually why her age bracket came sniffing around. Least he could do was make sure no more trouble came sniffing at her heels.

[bloodmoneyshared]

"If somebody's running around destroying my buildings when I ain't looking, get me the name and I'll drown him myself. Don't need to waste money on a jury." Hector spoke as he walked, cutting from the conversation to shout orders at a group of men who stood talking near one of the warehouses. It scared em enough to hustle off to do whatever Hector had shouted their way. Hopefully.

"Only my workers. Nobody else bothers to stop by...'cept you now I guess." Blue eyes watched Basil, Hector uncaring as to how inconspicuous or suspect he might seem. If this detective had the information to arrest him, they would gave already.

"One of the mayor's boys came asking about what happened. I'm hoping that means some money ends up comin' my way. Don't see no other sorry motherfuckers trying to fix this place." Hector liked it that way. It was his business, his job. Only he knew the ins and outs well enough to run it.

Asking about the cargo of the ships was enough of an inconvenience that Hector pulled out his logbook. Flipping pages, he stopped and dropped it on one of the nearby stacks of crates. Since they'd lost a few storage buildings, the piles were erected everywhere.

"Lumber, dry foodstuffs, some hair shit for the salon, more building material to fix up the warehouses. Real exciting stuff, blue." The old harbormaster knew Basil's name, of course. Just easier to remind them uninvited guest of his place here. No space for law enforcement in a lawless land.

"Ain't gonna have a moment 'til I'm dead. Better ask it now." Hector blew a gust out of his lungs, removing his cap to push back the mess of red-gray hair. He tugged the beanie back on his head with a grumble. "Make it quick at least, otherwise these idiots will be standing around with their cock in hand 'til I give them something to do."

He didn't have much faith in his employees until they proved they were worth the trouble. This lot was not doing too hot.

The last thing Hector wanted to do, below even that of ordering these idiots around, was talk to a cop. The mousy-looking bastard was always sniffing around things he had no business getting into. Most cops in this town were dirty, which made the clean ones all the more dangerous. Hector might need to get a little creative if he went snooping around Hades' merchandise.

Any time spent yapping with the police meant less time spent fixing up the harbor, which meant longer before they could get back to business as usual. The least he could do was play nice for five minutes.

[bloodmoneyshared]

"You buy a good whiskey and I'll park my sorry ass in a seat often enough to earn a plaque." If anyone understood good food and drink it would be the little bartender Barbossa favored. They knew more about him than he knew about their life, but that's what made Tiana such a good bartender. Didn't chatter on about themself, and given that he was paying for the whiskey and company, listened to what he had to say.

So many kids in this city didn't bother with dreams. Got outta high school with a degree or determination and either made money scamming people or went broke drinking away their sorrows by 35.

Hector ended up being a bit of both in the end.

"It'll be good to have a half-decent place to eat in town." That was about as close to encouragement as Hector got. Something in his expression was wistful, too. The scowl he wore was blessedly absent.

"When you open that restaurant, I'll be your first customer." Hector pledged it with a degree of honestly he usually didn't present to the masses. Maybe it was the hope that something could be made out of the skeleton this town was becoming. Maybe Barbossa just had a soft spot for the kid. Not a lot of young people were trying to make it in this town anymore. Seeing someone endeavoring to do better warmed the cold pit of his heart.

"I didn't do a whole lot to get this job. That was my daddy and his granddaddy. I just got born into the shit." Most of his childhood was spent working toward a preordained position, something he'd have been given even if he didn't give two fucks about the place. His blood and surname meant more in this town than anything he'd bother doing with his life. Maybe he could have done more good with it, but it was too late now. "Not so many get their life decided for 'em."

Tiana's didn't seem decided. He hoped they got all the shit they wanted, even if it was after he was dead.

"Maybe, you get this place, and I can sent the sailors over there to eat. So long as you don't mind a sticking group of men who drink shit beer. They tip well if you got enough Bud Light." Hector chuckled. "We might not be the kinda clientele yer after, but I can promise bodies on bar stools."

[bloodmoneyshared]

Hector was always skeptical of the people closest to the mayor. The man before him was likely nearer to lackey than partners but the old harbormaster wasn't the trusting sort. Better to play it safe than risk anything making it back to Hades. He pushed the sharp end of the spear into the old wood near his feet and leaned on its handle.

Some of my sailors got hurt. Ships are trashed, parts of the docks are worse. Nobody dead yet that we've found." Small miracles were all he could ask for in a place like this. Not seeing the corpse of someone he called a friend was blessing enough.

"Glad all the town hall lost was a tree." Barbossa didn't sound all that glad though. In fact, he sounded downright spiteful.

Of course nothing the mayor held near and dear was damaged. Made Hector want to burn the whole damn warehouse he'd tried to protect. He was far from starting to believe the whispers that the storm wasn't natural, but shirt like this wasn't helping the case.

Cornflower blue eyes lingered on the muddy water where it lapped at the shore. Rain had spun up the silt into a mess, fogging up the ocean until even the best seamen couldn't see shit. Miserable state to match the miserable weather.

"What brings you down here?" It was as much an accusation as it was a question, spoken with Barbossa's former suspicion. Despite the man's smalltalk, the harbormaster didn't trust his intentions were pure. "Not planning on putting in any hard labor, I trust."

Barbossa was aware of who'd approached him by scant conversation. Their interactions to this point were limited to the occasional meeting at Hades home and messages passed by way of the pair the harbormaster referred to as 'the minions'. They were only important so long as the man paying his bills said they were, meaning he had to humor him right now. Blue eyes angled down, mouth curling into a scowl that sat easy there from many years of practice.

"Mister Payne, to what do I owe the pleasure?" What he really wanted to say was closer to the lines of 'tell me what you want so I can get back to work', but he kept his tone clipped to make sure none of his sourness slipped through the cracks. "Working hard to get the port back up and running for Mayor Zika. Don't got much time if I wanna keep everything on track."

Hopefully, this wasn't a scheme to let Barbossa know there were eyes on him. He knew that plenty well already.

Right. Politeness.

"You weather the storm alright?"

[bloodmoneyshared]

"Fuckin' journalists, huh?" Hector had never had much issue with them personally. No journalist bothered with a harbormaster in some tiny town. He'd seen the local news at the Mayor's speeches and social events, at the occasional festival or parade, but never otherwise. Godscobh would be a good spot to hide out for someone on the wrong side of the gossip pages. Not that the girl deserved to be in the line of fire.

Hector had known her daddy got wrapped up in some nasty business, crucified by society for work not too unlike his own. Still, sins of the Father and all that. Not a young girl's fault. Were they gonna start locking up the sons of people like him next?

"Well, yer out here with a decent job. Better than most people, in Godscobh or otherwise." Most girls probably would have run off to LA or Vegas and blown the money they had left. If he was a millionaire in disgrace, he might have done just that. "If people give you trouble here, let me know."

If he was a good man, he wouldn't have offered. Hector was a man easily swayed by a pretty face, especially when that pretty face was singing his praises. It made him sit up a little straighter, and not-so-subtly fix his beard. He wasn't a young man. He didn't feel like a young man either, but damn was she helping him toward it.

"Why you humoring me though, Miss Lottie?" He set his empty glass down again. "Not a lot of women with good sense and good looks chat with a washed-up sailor. I ain't here to help you do charity work if that's yer goal."

"Hell if I know. Told him to make something nice." Hector wouldn't know a good cocktail if it slapped him 'cross his mouth. His palate and wallet were limited to a two-ounce pour over ice. Neat when it was cold. At least the bartender had done a good job. Most of the people who worked here were too up their own ass for him to bother with. Calling themselves fucking mixologists for godssake.

Besides the point.

Hector couldn't help the laugh that erupted from him at the implication of a wife. "Sweet of ya to say, miss. Ain't had a woman who could tolerate me for more than a night and that's unlikely to change." At his age, he'd given up on the prospects of marrying. Not that he'd want to shackle a woman to this town like he'd been at birth. Anyone who managed to leave was better off for it.

He'd caught the panic in her eye, tasting it like blood in the water. Something in Hector's black heart chased the terror he could instill in people with a glance. Now he just needed to figure out what about him was making her worry. City girls always avoided him, save for this one. She'd been on the hunt until he'd mentioned a thread of recognition.

Oh, that did it.

"Ah, no. I knew yer daddy." Barbossa was struck with a memory of a younger version of the same girl. Not too much younger, somewhere in her twenties probably while she hung on her father's arm smiling at his business partners. The memory made him feel further like an nasty old sailor, looking at a girl like her. Damn. "What you doin' in this backwater city?"

[bloodmoneyshared]

"Shae, huh?" Hector let the name roll around in his mouth a moment as he considered the girl. He couldn't recall a woman ever holding the title. The world was changing, though. Barbossa found himself caught behind the times in most cases, something of a traditionalist to put it kindly. He didn't like to change his way of life, even if he didn't enjoy it. He hated to change more.

It was a long line of men running the town into the shitter though. Maybe some fresh faces would do them good.

"Ah, fuck it. Here." Barbossa snagged a paper coaster, scribbling his cell number and the one for the docks office. "Give it to the Shae girl." If he met with her and she wasn't a total entitled idiot like most the young adults around, he could have a chat with her about getting started working the harbor. Get her used to it before she took over. If she took over. Could be a loss in the end, anyway.

Somebody already versed in the dust business would help. If Oberron and Hades kept power, they'd need a loyal harbormaster to get the product in. Sometimes, Barbossa felt like a puppet. At least he was a really rich one.

"Everybody is, even young bucks like you who think they've got the world in their palm." Hector chuckled, taking a sip. "Ain't got a son to replace me for the first time in my family's long an sordid history. Who knows who Hades'll appoint to it. Because believe you me, ain't gonna have no fair election."

Hector didn't have any grand plans of being remembered. He didn't flatter himself with the possibility he'd be remembered fondly other than what good he could do for the mayor's coffers. He was a hard worker and something of a scoundrel, no point in praying he'd go anywhere but hell. Hopefully, he'd leave no one behind praying otherwise. All he wanted was to be cremated and tossed in the sea.

A thought planted itself in his head, giving the old sailor pause.

"That is, unless somebody wants the role. Know any of those kids up at the casino with a knack for professional crime?" Couldn't be a young thing versed in the petty stuff. It was different when a couple thousand dollars were involved. "Teaching somebody the ropes would be better than some goon-" he emphasized the word a second time, "- taking over and not knowing sails from skeg."

Maybe not Lorcan. Kid seemed too delicate for day labor. Maybe one of his friends could work, though.

[bloodmoneyshared]

"When you open that restaurant, I'll be your first customer." Hector pledged it with a degree of honestly he usually didn't present to the masses. Maybe it was the hope that something could be made out of the skeleton this town was becoming. Maybe Barbossa just had a soft spot for the kid. Not a lot of young people were trying to make it in this town anymore. Seeing someone endeavoring to do better warmed the cold pit of his heart.

"I didn't do a whole lot to get this job. That was my daddy and his granddaddy. I just got born into the shit." Most of his childhood was spent working toward a preordained position, something he'd have been given even if he didn't give two fucks about the place. His blood and surname meant more in this town than anything he'd bother doing with his life. Maybe he could have done more good with it, but it was too late now. "Not so many get their life decided for 'em."

Tiana's didn't seem decided. He hoped they got all the shit they wanted, even if it was after he was dead.

"Maybe, you get this place, and I can sent the sailors over there to eat. So long as you don't mind a sticking group of men who drink shit beer. They tip well if you got enough Bud Light." Hector chuckled. "We might not be the kinda clientele yer after, but I can promise bodies on bar stools."

"Don't think there's room in this town left for heaven, kid." Barbossa's eyes lingered on one of the neon signs on the back wall, staring without seeing. "If there was, she wouldn't last long before all the hell killed her."

The outlook he carried with him was heavy as an anchor. Maybe that was why his shoulders sagged under the old flannel he wore. The hopes and dreams of something better had long been beaten out of him. If this town became something other than a shithole, it would be long after he died and be better for the lack of him.

"Just an offer in case you get sick of working for people who don't give a shit aboutcha." The older man shrugged, unbothered by their declination. "Plus, we got health insurance. I hear that's what kids yer age are gettin' excited about."

How miserable was it that the promise of medical care was all it took for most people. He'd seen the cost of it, balked at the amount. At least the Mayor paid him well enough to cover the co-pays these things demanded now.

[bloodmoneyshared]

Hector gave the boy a suspicious look, brow raised in doubt of the lie that Tim let slip so carelessly. Seaside townies usually got taught to swim one way or another. Hell, Barbossa's own daddy had tossed him in the water the day after his 5th birthday and told him to figure it out. Dangerous place to live if you didn't know how. Which meant this kid was sheltered or stupid.

"Runner then?" Hector said with a huff. It almost sounded like a laugh to the untrained ear. A friend would know it was a mocking one. "Sure, I could use a runner."

Fishing through his pockets, he produced a water-stained notepad and a sharpie. Scribbling a note onto the page, he folded it twice and passed it to the younger man. After seeing the detective snooping around again, Hades should know. Just in case. Plus, this saved him having to haul his old ass up to the manor.

"Take this to the mayor. Don't open it, or I'll send a couple cops to yer fucking bar." It wasn't Tim's bar of course, but Hector knew Peter wouldn't appreciate a handful of police in his gang's hangout. Hopefully, the kid was a good listener.

Hector knew this kid, another one of the many Oberron had scuttling around on the street like rats. This one certainly looked the part, with big, wide eyes stunned open by his shout. The harbormaster hadn't meant to startle him, hell, he hadn't realized the kid wasn't one of the dockhands.

Least this one had manners more than Kane.

Kindness in this town always meant someone was trying to swindle you or make themselves look good. This time, Hector was too busy to bother sussing out which befell the boy in front of him. Half the place was ruined. He'd worry about interpersonal relationships when he was dead.

"Don't offer if you ain't got the time, kid." Hector forwent a greeting in favor of getting to the point. "If yer serious, I could use a hand getting cargo outta the water."