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The playground: a world of madness and tomfoolery where the weak flocked and partook in games of running and hiding and tagging. Jolly Roger stood at the edges, his one visible eye narrowed fiercely. A trio playing tag darted past him, laughing and teasing each other for their ‘slowness’. Jolly Roger remained unmoved. He might as well have been a statue. A very disapproving statue. Jolly Roger did not play. Jolly Roger did not understand why anyone would ever want to.

As for why he was here, well, he was a pirate. The weak minded who came to this place were easy pickings. Though looking at them all now, they hardly seemed worth his time.

A twinkle of something shiny caught his attention; halfway across the playground near the swings. Was it gold or just the leftover wrapper from someone’s snack? Jolly Roger was no more capable of ignoring a golden gleam than any other pirate. He took a deep breath and marched into hell, straight towards his prize.

He nearly didn't make it. A perky female with too-wide eyes and a vacuous grin had planted herself in front of him and asked if he was playing pirates. Playing pirates. Jolly Roger had stood there in righteous indignation until she had eventually seen her death in his eye (or maybe she'd just been confused by his rigid silent staring) and had scampered back off to join her friends.

But now, as he stood triumphantly over a shiny golden coin, he knew it had been worth it. "Aye..." He murmured to himself, pleased with his haul. Alas, his eyepatch, and the subsequent lack of peripheral vision on his right, kept from seeing the competition that was fast coming up at his side.

Jolly Roger couldn't have looked more surprised to be interrupted mid-treasure grab, but he covered it quickly with a scowl, turning his head so he could actually see Fruit Punch. If he had been a lesser pirate, one perhaps prone to mirth, he would have laughed right in the other colts face. As it was, he merely glared and lifted his head with a pirately pride.

"Nay. It's mine." He said gruffly, hoping the other would be deterred before he had to do something dastardly and make a scene. “Move along, landlubber, this be my booty.”

Jolly Roger almost let Fruit Punch leave out of sheer surprise. Not only was the other colt not even remotely fazed when faced by a pirate, but he seemed to think he could just walk away with the treasure. If looks could kill, Fruit Punch would have been dead three times over with the glower Jolly Roger was giving.

The young pirate quickly stepped forward to block his enemies escape and growled, “best drop that now, you knave. I won’t allow a bilge rat like you to come between me and my treasure.”

Jolly Roger’s heart was as dark as the ocean on a cloudy night and as cold as a drifting hunk of ice, or so he would say if asked. It certainly did not quiver when faced by the teary-eyed filly, it did not warm even slightly because he was a pirate and pirates didn't care about anything except the ocean, rum and treasure.

Treasure belonged to whoever was strong enough to claim it. However, Jolly Roger reasoned as he squinted at the girl, a lucky charm was a different matter. It’d probably be bad luck to go and steal someone else’s charm. That was the way things worked. There was no point in fighting it out for something like that.

"Aye…" He said and turned his head to fix his one-eyed stare on Fruit Punch. "We've seen it, lass." It wouldn't do his reputation any good to be the one to hand it over and so he continued to stare at the other colt, expecting him to do it.

It was done. Jolly Roger, hoping his reputation was not in tatters, gave Fruit Punch one last scowl and then turned to leave. He was done with the playground for today and he had nothing more to say to the other colt, especially if the other was going to expect some sort of comment on his un-pirate-like generosity.

He certainly would never admit to the happiness in seeing the girls grateful smile. Nope, he felt nothing of the sort.