#izzy arguing like look this one is more greyish while jim is like i know but literally does it even matter when we're grabbing basically

[izzy-b-hands]

"I'm gonna stab him," Jim mutters. "What are these for anyway?"

"Frenchie and Ed requested additional notions," Izzy sighs, a woven basket on one arm, already half full of fabric. "For the new crew uniforms and I'm not entirely sure what else. Not my place to ask."

"Why would any of that need to be a secret?"

"It isn't," Izzy replies.

"Then why is he treating it like one?"

"I know you don't want to be here," Izzy says. "If it helps, I don't want to be either. I hate these crowds. Fang's better with them, but do you think he'd let me send him instead?"

Jim smiles. "Wow."

"What?"

"Never thought I'd hear you complain about Ed like that."

They move to the next booth, covered in fabric and a few other crafts.

Including jewelry.

"Wish I knew where the fuck my money was," Jim says, staring down at the earrings. "I take it we're no longer salaried, since my funds disappeared from where I had them hidden."

"Previous to meeting Bonnet," Izzy says, absentmindedly tossing swatches and folded lengths of fabric into their basket. "Everything was kept in one place. You'd get your share of the last raid, and everything unallocated goes into a general fund."

"That's how we're paying for all this," Jim nods. "Cool. I guess."

"It was pointed out that one could see your and Frenchie's money was essentially like your cut of a raid and should be left to you both," Izzy continues. "But that opinion was voted out."

"Fuck," Jim scowls and starts to walk to the next booth. "I'll have to tell Fang thanks for sticking up for us."

"I suppose you will," Izzy calls out with what seems like hesitation. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you further down."

They walk on past yet another sewing and fabric booth, pretending not to think about the teal earring on the previous booth's counter.

They didn't need anything like that anyway. Surviving was the goal, not shopping and trying to match with Olu.

"He's not even here to see it," Jim scolds themself and passes the last merchant stall towards the beach. "You can wait till you find him."

They wander away from the main pathway onto the sand, finally dropping down onto it with a hiss. It's hot, but it almost feels nice on one's legs stretched out over it.

"Literally it's just fabric," Jim mutters after what feels like an hour passes. "How does it take this long?"

They flop back onto the sand and sigh. "I wonder what Ed would do if I ditched him."

"Me?" Izzy's boots push through the sand. "I don't know that he'd care all that much. But if you try to abandon him, right now?"

Izzy sits beside them, a few burlap sacks full of their shopping dropped at his other side. "I wouldn't. Were it me."

Jim waits for the command to get the fuck up amd get moving, but it doesn't come.

"Took a long time to track down the same color of fabric," they comment."It's all mostly black."

"It is, but there's differences in each shade. In the type of fabric. They asked for variety, so I did my best."

It occurs to Jim that this might be a moment Izzy would rather Ed not know about. This softer, tired voice and willingness to rest on the beach, watching the waves crash.

"Here," Izzy searches through one of the bags. "Don't tell Ed."

He motions for them to hold out their hand, and presses something into it.

A necklace, and an earring. Each with a small teal circular charm hanging off of them.

"He definitely didn't say we could buy something like this," Jim says, holding the jewelry as if it might burn them. "Izzy-"

"As if he doesn't use every stop as an excuse to buy new rings," Izzy interrupts. "Honestly, if you wear them and say nothing, he won't notice. He's got other things on his mind."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

The silence lingers for only a moment.

"I don't wanna make this any weirder," Jim continues. "But can you help get the necklace on? I don't want the charm sliding off-"

Izzy takes the necklace gently and moves to kneel behind them.

There's a moment of fear, hidden in the tension of their hand sitting on the handle of their knife.

But Izzy slips the necklace on and secures it without any attempt to garrote them.

"I don't know if you actually have a piercing," Izzy says awkwardly. "So the earring-"

"It's just been a bit since I wore one," Jim interrupts as they force the earring through the slightly grown over piercing in their left ear. "Hurts, but it still fits."

"We should head back," Izzy says, and stands from the sand with a groan. "There might be lunch leftover for us if we're lucky."

"Stew again?"

Izzy nods.

"Great," Jim mutters, and pulls themself up. "Or we could get something actually edible here."

They watch Izzy process it, the wheels nearly audibly turning.

"So long as we finish it before we get back," Izzy says. "That, or we get enough to share."

"May as well."

They make their way back towards the main path, sand shifting beneath their feet.

"And thanks," Jim continues, focusing on the horizon. "For the..."

"Would be hypocritical of me," Izzy shrugs, and gestures to the ring on the knot of his cravat. "To say you shouldn't want something that reminds you of someone else."

Jim lets Izzy get slightly ahead, and studies him.

As soon as they're back, this version of Izzy will almost definitely disappear. But now there's the question itching at the back of their head: is it because he wants it to, because he feels he has to, or because he doesn't know how else to be.

The situation at hand, frankly, sucks. But the experiment of finding out when and where Izzy lets himself relax is weirdly interesting.

That, and what might it take to convince that relaxed, sentimental, secret jewelry purchasing Izzy to help them get Olu back.