Young Writers Society

Kate scowled. This girl again. "Neither." She shoved her glasses back up her nose and crossed her arms. This asshole could fuck off with her 'dry clothes' bullshit. And the food for that matter. Kate didn't eat.

Her scowl deepened, and she looked pointedly away from Bella, or whatever her name was.

Bella's smile faltered.

"Ah. Okay. Well, would you like to join--?" she cut herself off when James entered the room again.

James stood in the doorway, leaning on the side.

"Oh! You're back. That was quick," Bella said.

James was tired.

"Yeah," he said with a small smile. "Uh - Kate, would you like a look around? Just so you know where everything is?"

"Fine," she grumbled. This place was more crowded than her ship with none of the charm. She couldn't just toss someone over the rail if they were being an obnoxious prick. Keel hauling was also out of the question, not that she really did that much anyway. Some forms of punishment should be for special occasions. Sending her sailors to the sirens was really less useful than just teaching them a lesson.

Sailors, after all, were in short supply on that island in particular.

James flashed Bella quick smile before withdrawing into the hallway again, waiting for Kate.

Kate followed. "What was your little chat about?"

James smiled a little and shrugged. He still felt a little wobbly, but he was managing.

"Ah. Jusht -" he cleared his throat. Trying not to slur took a lot of focus for some reason. "Just talking."

Gods that was a terrible lie. That wasn't even an answer, was it?

"P-pershonal... matters."

Kate snorted, "Bullshit." He slurred more the more he lied. Besides, Rita didn't look like she was calling him in to chat about his crush, or whatever 'personal matters' meant.

James's eyes fluttered and he glanced back into the dining hall. No one was paying attention to him. No one paid attention to him anymore. That was the only blessing of being hated, now. His smile faltered. Kate saw right through him, and he wasn't sure how to act. His drunken brain couldn't seem to reconcile that his act had been called what it was - fake - and now he had to let his guard down. Or he didn't, but was expected to?

HIs smile twitched, before fading completely. He started slowly down the hall.

"Mmh," he said in a muffled form of almost-agreement. "I just - um - I'm not well-liked here is all," he tried to explain. "It's complicated."

She rolled her eyes, "No, it isn't. Bitches don't like your drunk-ass. I don't give a shit about why." People might advise her to give that shit about what made this loser so hated, but those people weren't here, she was, and she made the rules. The rules here were, she'd judge this guy when he gave her a reason to. For now, he was just some sad, drunk loser.

James scoffed lightly. "Okay. Good." He didn't want to explain, and if Kate wasn't having it, he wasn't going to give it.

He started walking slowly and decided to point out the rooms instead.

"Well. The dining hall you already saw - that's self-explanatory. We have meals there in the morning and evening. You're welcome to them."

He skipped over doors that weren’t relevant or important.

“The Kitchen. If you’re hungry,” he pointed as they were walking.

“Outhouses are outside to the left-“ he pointed. “Of the building. People use the middle one the most. I never go in it.”

He brought her around to a wooden staircase.

“Sleeping quarters are up here.”

Kate hummed in acknowledgment every time he pointed out a room as she counted the exits, planned for ways to sneak out in a day or two when she needed to feed. She might have to prepare something with some nasty-ass rabbit blood or something while she was here.

She was not looking forward to that crunchy-glitter-tasting bullshit.

"Where I'm I sleeping?" she asked. She didn't have to sleep, but her crew did, and she got into the habit when she found out Lully liked to snuggle.

"Ah, there's a bed in one of the roomsh," James said with a small wave of his hand. "I'll show you."

With a sudden but brief burst of energy, he hurried up the steps and made his way down the hall. At the third door on the left he pushed open the door into a small room with two beds. With a clumsy, not-at-all-graceful wave of his arm he pointed to it.

"Yours."

Kate looked the room over. Two beds. A roommate. Great. How the fuck was she supposed to keep some fucker from realizing she had fucking nightlight installed in her eye sockets when they were spending the night in the same room?

Besides, that made it harder to sneak out.

Kate heaved a sigh - making a big show of how yes, she, a living being, did breathe - and shook her head. "I'll just sleep outside," she decided. "You need to go nap off the alcohol or whatever it is you people do to sober up. You look like boiled shit."

James blinked, suddenly finding himself wishing that he'd acted like Kate from the get-go when Rita dragged him into her crew. Being blunt and unkind seemed like a much easier facade to keep up than being so bubbly and cheery all the time.

James didn't feel like arguing. Rita might ask him why their guest was sleeping outside, but even she wouldn't force Kate indoors, especially when Rita didn't really want her there in the first place.

Still, James felt bad that she would be sleeping outside of all places.

"I... I mean, eventually, yes, I need to sleep," James agreed. "But are you shure?"

Kate rolled her eyes again and turned away from the room, facing the sad drunk, "Yes I am sure," she said slowly, "Now, go on, sober up. You're probably more fun when you don't look like you're on the verge of wallowing in a puddle of your own tears with whatever edgy depression music you could find blaring in the background."

Okay, he didn't look that devastated by the fact that he was still breathing, but it was close. People's emotions were all over the place when they were drunk. That's why she'd tried to ban alcohol on her ship.

It was around the time she woke up with a stake in her chest that she realized that a few blubbering sailors were really not that difficult to manage.