He generally had no qualms. Despite everything that had been going on, he never really complained. Even when he had his supply of rum stolen by Flat Sails… though, that had long since been dealt with. But now, oh no, now he had met his breaking point. And it rudely informed him not to let the door hit him in the a** on his way out to b***h-slap lane.
Drake now sat at the base of a tree, wincing in pain as he recovered from the shock of having a sharpened stick lodged through the fin of his tail. The sharpened stick actually happened to be a harpoon. Exactly where it came from or how it ended up spearing his tail was beyond him. The gray mini otter, Cap’n Flat Sails, scrambled down from the tree that he was next to. “Admiral Barbossa-Swann!! I swear that didn’t mean to hit you!! Are you alright?!”
The larger male grimaced bitterly. “Does it look like I’m alright?”
Several moments before, Drake had been napping languidly in the fresh, autumn day, having curled up right outside his den. The next thing he knew, his niece was smacking him awake with his own hat, shouting something that he couldn’t comprehend at the time. When he finally rolled onto his paws, Finch had run off with his hat. Exactly how the pup managed to slip past her parents and several siblings and make it all the way to his den alone, he wasn’t quite sure. Nevertheless, he followed after the pup, not entirely trustful of what might be lurking in the woods. That and he didn’t appreciate the abusive nature that his hat was receiving. Somewhere along the way, his paw apparently caught on a trip-wire near the base of a tree, which triggered something over-head, which in turn left him in the state he was now; silently seething in pain while his captain frantically babbled on about how the trap was to catch enemies, not him, and how he was so incredibly sorry, this-and-that, blahblahblah.
The shrill ring of little girl laughter alerted Drake of the pup standing a meter away in front of him, wearing a familiar red hat that kept falling over her eyes. “HA! You incompetent fool; you’ve fallen directly into my brilliant trap!” Finch declared triumphantly. Drake glowered at his niece and then at the mini pirate next to him. “You’ve teamed up with her? How long has this-” he flicked an accusing finger between the mini and the pup “been going on?!?”
“Uncle Drake,” Finch ignored her uncle’s accusation as her voice dropped to a level tone, and she pushed the large hat back to stare him dead in the eye. “There’s something you need to know…”
“What?” the older otter growled through clenched teeth, indigo eyes narrowing as he stared down back at the pup. She inched closer to him, just out of his reach, and, with a glance to Flat Sails, flicked her paw to indicate for Drake to lean in closer. He gave her a suspicious look and remained still. “It’s important!” she urged in a low whisper, flicking her paw once again. With a reluctant sigh, the admiral leaned forward, wincing as the harpoon kept him pinned in place. Finch moved closer as well, gesturing to whisper in his ear, but instead (God, he should have seen this coming) shot her paw up to thwap his nose. “TAG, you’re it!!” she squeaked and darted away. Drake quickly jerked back and recoiled from the smack to his maw. ‘Holy hell, did she inherit her father’s claws?!’.
The pirate clamped a paw over his nose and hissed. “Bloody hell, I swear I’d strangle ‘er if she wasn’ me own flesh an’ blood.” The mini next to him simply nodded and chuckled nervously. “Wom’n, can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.” The admiral turned on the small captain, as much as the harpoon in his tail would allow him, and harrumphed. “Don’t try to smooth talk your way out o’ this one Sails. The question of how this bloody stick got in my tail is still in debate.” He muttered, none-to-pleasantly.
Sails shrunk back a bit at his admiral’s feral tone. He couldn’t help but notice how Drake’s light accent came out more in fervor when he was agitated. Extremely agitated, in fact.
“I mean, what the bloody 'ell were you trying to kill? Are there whales living in the trees that I don’t know about?! And how in God’s name did you get this blasted thing up there to start with? And don’t gawk at me like I bloody grew a second head!!”
Sails stared up at Drake, mouth slightly agape as he was at a loss for words. “C-cor, now where did Miss Finch run off to?” he quickly changed the topic while falsely looking about in a frantic matter. “I reckon it wouldn’t do if she was lost, now would it?” he murmured anxiously before scampering off in Finch’s direction. Faintly, Drake could hear him yell: “Quickly, before the Redcoat’s militia escapes the barrier!”
“It’s not like I don’t bloody know where you live!” he bellowed after the mini, growling as the small otter disappeared from view. Fuming, the admiral turned around with bitter resentment and attempted to pull the elongated weapon from his tail. Why did the bloody thing have to be wedged so tightly into the ground?
A low, amused chuckle from behind caught Drake’s attention as his ears perked sharply. He swerved his head to look over his shoulder and almost immediately narrowed his eyes, ears flicking back unwelcomingly.
“Loxley.”
