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16 July 2007 @ 11:51 pm
Anthony Glasier  
There are disreputable bars, and then there are dives, and then there's the Pig's Hoof. A place so run down and out of the way that not even the usual crowd of scoundrels will touch it, but the rum is cheap (just...don't examine it too closely) and the sole barmaid has at least half of her teeth, though they're rarely seen.

The drinkers tonight are mostly grizzled old salts, already deep in their cups, so if a fellow was just looking to think it wouldn't be such a bad place to do it in, as look as he wasn't particular about the venue of his thought.

Harlan, though, is just here because it's cheap and the goddamn 'captain' with his pretty little uniform doesn't know where it is. A man has a right to drink if he wants.
 
 
 
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 05:28 am (UTC)
Anthony's not of a mind to either think or drink this particular evening. He's just looking for somewhere to go, someplace he might sit a moment. And if the thinking and drinking come after, so be it.

He doesn't suit the place-- he's not nearly big and grizzled and smelling of alcohol enough, though his dazed expression as he takes the nearest empty seat fits very well.
hellboundknaves on July 17th, 2007 05:35 am (UTC)
Harlan eyes the newcomer distrustfully, pulling his tankard closer to his body- through why he'd think anyone would want to steal that is a mystery.

He tries to ignore Anthony, for a while, but in a tavern this empty being that close has got to be about something.

"Oi," he says, clearing his throat, "You one of my bastards?" Harlan has quite a lot of children, at least three wives he can remember, and more ladyfriends than he cares to try to recall. This would not be the first time he met one of his sons in such a situation.
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 05:43 am (UTC)
When first addressed, he looks around quickly, to make sure it isn't someone else that Harlan is addressing. He looks closely at Harlan, as if considering the question, before he answers, "No, I'm not."
hellboundknaves on July 17th, 2007 05:48 am (UTC)
"Oh." Harlan examines him for a moment. "Well, good, you don't look a damn thing like me. I'd say your mother'd been whoring around behind my back."

He knocks back a swig of rum, apparently satisfied with that.
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 05:58 am (UTC)
He nods and turns back to his own drink, which he soon makes the mistake of looking too closely at. Suddenly rather less enthusiastic about distracting himself through those means, he finds himself shooting occasional half-worried glances in Harlan's direction.
hellboundknaves on July 17th, 2007 06:06 am (UTC)
Harlan doesn't seem too badly off, despite the nature of what he's swilling, but all that glancing can put a fellow's back hairs up.

"...boy," he says, somewhat warily, "Ashore, I've not got an interest in what lies 'twixt your cheeks, so you'd best be moving on if you be tryin' to peddle your fleshy goods."
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 06:13 am (UTC)
"I don't want that!" he says quickly, looking startled, then fixing his eyes at once on the table before him. "Begging your pardon."
hellboundknaves on July 17th, 2007 06:22 am (UTC)
"Then why in the name of Satan's tits are you staring at me?" Harlan demands, peevishly. "What are you wanting, then?"
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 06:32 am (UTC)
"It-- it just seemed like a strange question," he says, resisting the urge to edge away.
hellboundknaves on July 17th, 2007 06:37 am (UTC)
"I'm not the one who's lookin' to get my damn nose cut off for staring at strange folk in taverns," Harlan grumbles, without much real irritation. The boy's obviously not all too bright, but he reminds him of a few of his own boys- it's been a while since he's seen any of the ragged lot.

"What's your name, then, if that's not too horrible strange of a question?"
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 06:44 am (UTC)
His hand starts protectively for his nose before he realizes that Harlan doesn't mean it. So he offers the hand to shake instead. "Anthony Glasier. What's yours?"
hellboundknaves on July 17th, 2007 06:48 am (UTC)
Harlan takes his hand with a grin meant to be reassuring, though the state of his teeth might make it simply revolting. "Harlan. Benjamin Harlan, lately of the 'glorious' Hellequin."
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 06:51 am (UTC)
The sentiment is felt, and he offers a smile in return. "You're a sailor, then?"
hellboundknaves on July 17th, 2007 06:55 am (UTC)
"Aye," he says, and smirks, "Of a sort."
a_glasier on July 17th, 2007 07:01 am (UTC)
"What do you mean?"
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