[Episode] A Titanic Mistake

Marissa sat in the local bar at a small round table waiting on the barmaid to return to her with her drink...well that and waiting to hit on said bar maid since she did happen to have quite a nice chest on her. Around her sat other men and women gambling and discussing various topics like politics, current events or attempting to start a fight with one another. The bartender did little in the way of stopping bar fights as he had barmaids go to tables and serve people along with making drinks for the people at the bar, a popular spot to sit if you wanted to be near any action that happened. Marissa had to throw back coins that landed on her table from drunkards haphazardly throwing their money around after winning a bet. She was a revolutionary yes, but a thief? No, never. She tried to follow as many laws as she could when she wasn't attempting to dismantle the government's authoritative control in fact.

When the barmaid finally arrived she was almost knocked over by a very drunk and very violent man fighting with some other poor soul, the more aggressive man having rough black hair with a thick beard. He'd punched out the man he was fighting before drunkenly shambling backwards right in front of the poor woman trying to do her job. "Ye wan' to go too?!" He'd aggressively snarl at her,  as the barmaid shrinks up and starts to cower and fall backwards. Marissa gets up and steps in front of her, looking the man dead in the eyes as she catches the falling woman, holding her safely. "Hey there man, you're getting a bit too drunk. I think you need to calm down." She says firmly with no fear being evident in her entire being, as if this brute was a mere insect to her despite the fact he was taller than her.

This would prompt a flintlock to be pulled out, aimed squared at Marissa's head. "Don' tell me what I need to do! I'll blow your 'ead off!" Panic started to spread, the bartender about to call the marine base as others started to egg on the man as well as Marissa like they're gladiators in a Colosseum about to fight for some big match. Things looked like they were starting to get really bloody really fast as an uncomfortable crunch filled the air after Marissa kept her face firm and serious. The barmaid looked up in horror at first thinking Marissa had been shot in the head only to see Marissa's hand morphed into what looked like a cybernetic hand designed off of a battleship crushing the barrel of the gun as it fired into it, her smirking very slightly like she knew she was the superior one here. The man was paralyzed by fear for a split second before scurrying away, the woman seeming to emanate a dominant aura that could rival that of even the most confident men.

The bullet was smashed like a tin can with the gun barrel being dropped after being reduced to nothing but scrap metal. Everyone there knew that she was a devil fruit user, someone to be seen as a demon that only brings death and destruction wherever she goes. Oddly enough, some seemed to be relieved that she ended this situation regardless, the barmaid blushing as Marissa pulls her closer. "Are you ok dear?" Her voice was deep and mature, but smooth as silk. The barmaid's blush grew and could only manage to nod, placing the drink down on the table. "If you're available later come see me at the hotel across the street tonight. I'll be in room 3." She whispers into her ear before she leaves, smirking as it becomes clear that she's being completely serious about this.

There was no response from her as this particular woman was the shy type it'd seem, the bartender letting out a hearty laugh at what he just witnessed as she presumably tells him. It became obvious to Marissa that what had happened in the span of the last couple minutes was a new one to all parties really though she figured it would be seeing as she tended to cause a stir wherever she ended up no matter what. It kind of came with the job, but it made her happy that things seemed to be calming down now at least. Of course people were still talking about it, but it wasn't as tense as when the imminent danger happened.

Black Drum Island was a big deal, or so Horus had been told.  A coalition of people, all sitting on their asses in some giant game of politics and checks and balances.  Nothing ever got done, which was apparently far better than the alternative, where things -very clearly- got done, and those who had it done to them had no question as to who was to blame.  There was a sort of neatness to tyranny that Horus could appreciate; when a king told his subjects that they were going to be skipping a meal tonight, that was one thing.  He'd seen the agonies firsthand when he'd left his island, and while the people were miserable, there was a sense of...solidarity in suffering, one could say.  Everyone knew that if they weren't the king, then they shared at least one thing, this being a seething hatred for the king.

But this city?  This was bleak, taken to a completely opposite extreme.  When he saw the haggard men at the tavern, drinking away their worries, there was nothing there.  In his wife's hometown, the talk of the day was always about whatever new silly edict had been passed, or what the king's new wallpaper was.  Everyone rolled their eyes, let out a groan of understanding, and returned to their own gripes of the day.  It was safe, in a way; if you ever spoke the blackened king's name, you immediately knew that you'd find a receptive ear.  Even if, in some cases, that receptive ear happened to be connected, in a distant and far-off manner, to the king's own.

But there was no chatter or attempt at connecting in this tavern.  Everyone drank like it was a professional sport, and they were going for the grand prize.  Which, given their demeanor up to now, would probably be a nice glass of water and an extremely dark room.  There was an air of sullen, almost weary acceptance in this place.  Horus entered, looking around the place for a few moments, and then brushing off his jet-black suit; a few strands of fuzz had gathered on it, and he was a bit concerned it would damage his appearance somehow.  He sucked at his teeth noisily while he entered, scanning the room for anything that could be called a happy face, and found only the employees.  Here, everyone was in their own little world.  A room full of strangers, all exuding their personal space into an area so large it felt dizzying.

He navigated his way through several of the people to approach the tavern, and rose a hand in a lazy gesture of acknowledgement, before drawing out a bill.  He held it out between two fingers, but failed to relinquish it as the bartender grabbed onto it.  She let out an irritated sound, and reached out with her second hand, before Horus finally spoke in a tiny murmur, his gaze deadlocked onto the form of a very small girl that had just taken a sip of ale.  He spoke, in a voice almost heavy with incredulity.

"Did...someone bring their kid in here?  Is that juice?  I -really- hope that's juice.  Tell me that's juice."

The bartender followed his gaze, before giving a weak laugh and shaking her head.  Horus relinquished the bill as he made a beeline towards the girl, his movements suddenly far more focused.  His own personal space bubble had expanded to the space of the entire tavern, and a few steps beyond, so everyone present suddenly had the very unpleasant premonition of a broken nose or a swallowed molar as he brushed past them, heading straight for the girl.  He crouched down, still standing taller than most men present, and spoke in a slow, almost painfully warm tone.  It was almost immediately apparent as the sound of an Adult being Responsible.

"Are you waiting for someone?  Did a friend go to the bathroom or something?"

Before she could even reply, he turned and rose to his full height, hands dropping to his side.  He spoke to himself, more in a whisper than a real attempt to communicate, but it wouldn't have been hard for her to make it out all the same.

"Well, since it looks like this place doesn't have a bouncer, it once again falls on me to..."

There was something in the way the kid replied, so reflexively and immediately, that it actually made Horus feel a tangible pain in his chest for a second.  He had to stop his reflexive desire to clutch at his chest, instead just balling his fist, and putting on the most boring expression he could muster.  She started her tirade, and he reacted as if she were just reading off of a sheet of paper, as if she weren't even speaking to -him-.  He finally tilted his head to the side, causing a painful-sounding crack to emit from the joint there, his hand resting on his neck for a second or two.

"Nice little tirade, sounds like you've rehearsed it a good long while.  Let me guess, there a lot of adults you want to try those lines out on?  I'll let you in on a secret.  I don't know who you are, and I really don't have much interest outside of the obvious.  You're no snot-nosed brat, but you still put the 'young' part in 'young adult'.  Sure as hell too young to be in the same room as people like this if you had a choice.  So who's keeping you here, of all places?  You could go to Weenie Hut Jr. and no one'd think any less of you.  Except for maybe yourself."

He rose a hand, waving off the bartender as they returned with another mug of alcohol, his expression turning dour, drawn.  He kicked a seat towards them with a long leg, settling into a position across from Miku, and folding both hands under his chin, looking at her with a gaze that was now halfway between bored and appraising, like he was trying to find some soft spot to probe at; for a second or two, it was unsettlingly quiet, as the intensity of his focus on Miku led everyone in the room to glance in that direction, and pause their conversations.  They resumed, but Horus himself still didn't talk for almost a full minute before he finally did.

"Whiskey.  Strong stuff.  If she's able to complain about the taste, she's no grown woman in my book.  Proper alcohol you don't -drink-, you just feel the fumes as they hit your sinus.  You -are- in fact my business, and you are also what most people would call a curiosity.  So please, have a round or two on me.  And while we're doing that, you can set the record straight.  Before you decide to get...rowdy...might I suggest you instead try besting an adult in their field of expertise for a change?"

He let his emphasis on the word dangle as best he could in the circumstances, his expression giving nothing away. Even so, the bounty poster of the Rowdy Rascal was one that never had a chance to get too tattered on the job boards he'd run across in the past. There was an extremely good chance she would get the hint right away, and there was -no- chance whatsoever that he could take her in a fight. Even in this crowded place, where he could try to get a few people to join him in blocking an escape, the best outcome would be buying time for the marines to come and take her into custody themselves.

Consider this experience for the inevitable conversation he'd be having in the next year, then. If he couldn't at least get through to Miku, how could he call himself a dad?

Horus waited for the bottle to arrive, before pouring a shot of alcohol, and then sliding it towards her.  The other one he left in front of himself, his smile bloodless, almost grim.  There was something almost...sadistic there, you could say?  It was unnerving to see on someone who was dressed so oddly, for sure.  Did Horus even know what he looked like right now, as he contemplated all the snide remarks he could make towards the pirate sitting across from him?  If he could see himself in a mirror, would he like that look in his eyes?  That fatherly spark he was so sure he had was buried deep down, and right now it was his mouth running the show.

"You're my business because I am an independent contractor.  You know what I mean, so let's not make this worse by saying it out loud.  Because you asked a question that doesn't warrant an actual answer, take a shot.  That's how adults do it, in case you didn't know.  When you speak without thinking, there are penalties."

He paused, grabbing his own glass and looking into it, swirling around the contents.  He knocked back the entire shot without much more than a single muffled cough, and then placed it upside-down on the bar, right in front of her.  He seemed to be spending a lot more time thinking about her question than was reasonable, as if he hadn't even heard her.  It took almost a full minute for him to finally reply, his tone neutral, about as dismissive as it was possible to be.

"Horus is my name.  If you want to call me Bee Guy that's fine by me.  I won't bother saying the cliches, but...do I really need a reason to want to grab you by the ear and drag you through the streets?  It's the way of the world.  Like...I see a mess, and I want to clean it up.  That kinda thing, you get what I'm saying?  You're a mess, and I don't feel bad at all saying that one, kid.  Your clothes, your face?  Looks like you haven't had a good night's sleep or a healthy meal in a few months."

Horus shrugged one shoulder, doing his best to affect an air of nonchalant boredom.  There were a lot of hard types in the room, at least four or five that he could pick out, and all it would take is one little outburst to make this entire situation a wash.  He needed to keep Miku right here, and take as long as he needed to pound it into her head that all the fighting and screaming in the world wouldn't change the simple fact that she was in over her head.

"Let me guess.  You're heading for the Grand Line in the morning?  All the time, you see it.  Bunch of people who can barely tell when a storm cloud's rolling in think they're ready to brave the biggest, baddest ocean.  It's all that freedom, right?  Goes to your head, makes you feel immortal.  Like you're untouchable.  Must be nice to be young enough to think you'll never die."

Horus could still remember his first trip onto the high seas, in a boat barely big enough to hold one person. An absolute, abject failure, one wherein he sailed right back home before dinnertime, bawling his eyes out when he realized just how -big- the ocean was. Had it been like that for Miku? For his own kid? Or was there just something defective about him? He heard people talking about it, all the time; their dreams, the amazing things they wanted to do or see happen. Was it so wrong to just want to live a quiet life with his kid, in the end? Was there even anyone who'd have his side if she tried running off again?