#also yes. gimme jackaboy. let's work something out! >:D

[neverhangd]

@izzyeffinhands doesn't know how to say please, apparently.

The bottle was pulled from Anne's loose grip and she frowned, turning her head to follow the bottle but making no move to intercept it. Asshole. Her frown was broken by an errant snort at the thought, an insult meant but not wholeheartedly, and any thought of pouting or badgering to get it back was blown away on that snort. Never sober. That's a funny one, though, and belatedly makes Anne snort anew, seizing up in a surprise laughing fit at it. She was hardly known to touch the shite, snottily deemed a teetotaler behind her back--not that she minded. Better a fighting Irish than a drunk one: dulled wits make for dead pirates.

Alas, boredom and unprocessed trauma, a driving need to be at work and a lack of anything the fuck else to bother working at, a touch of petty pride and a drinking contest to be won combined had resulted in her drinking well past what she ought.

Good thing it was Hands that found her after. She didn't fancy dealing with an actual dumbarse with her inhibitions blown and her hot temper made more dangerous by the liquor in her system. She leaned against him, a little dizzy but happy to be so, almost smiling (if such a thing could be said of Anne).

"I--. I'm only not sober now 'cause I'm feckin bored. Should'a seen me arter the first shot: Fang said my eye twitched an' that was that until three shots later." She couldn't help but feel chuffed with herself, managing to drink someone under the table on her first go. With dead winds and fuck all nearby, it was a lucky thing Anne had been provoked into drinking instead of fighting. Be a real shame to go down a crewman this far from shore.

"Jaysus! That en't water; come up f'r air, for fuck's sake!"