piratejournal | [Written] And now for something completely different from the last time

Marco here.

Sorry for my state in the last post, and thank you very much to those sweet enough to humor me, you're too kind.

Bepo, and Vyse, I have duplicates of my maps for you, assuming you both still want them.

For everyone else, I've made about twenty copies of various maps and directions to the Corsair Naval Masquerade Ball. Likewise, in the interest of furthering piracy rebelling against lawful order, I will teach the basics of ranks to anyone with enough brains to actually hold the knowledge. Remember, if you want to go, wear formal costume, and pretend to be part of the navy. Anyone in the Spades wishing to help infiltrate must be able to perform a correct salute and demonstrate ability to discern when it's appropriate. Those who cannot may help infiltrate as waiters.

Thank you.
- Marco

Edited Addendum: Dance lessons for Spades unfamiliar with waltz, samba, and tango will be held every night this week. Namur's breakdance competition comes with a reward, but this style of dance is not acceptable for naval officers, sorry Nam-chan.

[Locked to Nico Robin]

I am embarrassed to say I have about three favors to ask of you.

[Locked to Grell Sutcliff]

Hello Kitten. How do you feel about getting a little vengeance, eh?

[Locked to Sebastian]

My phoenix brother and I are in the mood to spread our wings. Think you can get a babysitter that night to come have fun?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He just groans and facepalms. No offense Codi, because you wouldn't know, but he's been at this for decades, and all you rookies scare the living daylights out of him with how little you know, but how much everyone thinks they know.]

Because strapping a sword to my waist would make fighting fifteen times more difficult, yoi. That's what it means. Having your weapon buckled at the ready, eh. Because those idiots are always trying to prove themselves. And a swash is a type of wave that those kind of swordsman mimic with flashy stupid swaggering movements. Don't get me wrong, I'm plenty flashy when I want to be, but not with a sword. Vista, Thatch, and Haruta wouldn't appreciate me taking their place.

Just be glad you don't have to go up against my Pops or Sengoku for that tactician title, eh? Pops always kicked my ass at chess, and even at seventy-two he was a genius at strategy. And Sengoku's a sneaky bastard. Fleet admiral, you know.

[If Marco could see her, Codi would be waving her hand at the journal hardly two sentences in.]

Yeah, yeah, whatever. You sure do talk a lot about stuff that doesn't matter.

[He just bangs his head into the journal.]

Everything matters.

You may not take an interest in it, you may not be wise enough to find a way to use it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't matter.

Che. This is why I loathe rookies.

[What a strange thumping noise! Marco seems to make that a lot. Maybe it's some kind of nervous tick?]

Yeah, you and me both.

[...This is a mess and I have no regrets.]

[Codi plz.]

I swear this is why Pops started drinking.

[Okay, she gets it, but now she's just rubbing it in.]

Look, it's not my fault he had to deal with you.

[Luckily that's not an insult that fazes him because his father adopted him and literally chose and wanted to deal with Marco, and he knows it. It's the main reason he's such a spoiled brat. And how.]

Now now, I kept him from drinking too much. Otherwise there wouldn't have been a drop of sake left in all four blues.

[That makes two of them! God help us.]

Sure--if only because he ran out of wine, rum, whiskey, bourbon, hard cider...

Exactly.

And don't forget the blue curacao, yoi.

How could I forget? Such a noble species, extinct after the terror that was your childhood. Such a tragedy!

[Whoops, slipped into silly melodrama again.]

[Written] And now for something completely different from the last time

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