formal introductions (based on a true story)

[Arabella Porter]

“It was dark, right? He’s not the same guy.” Roderick assured me, shuffling a recently read book onto its shelf. I stood in his doorway with a hand on the frame.

“You’re wrong. How many guys his size do you see on a daily, Roderick. This is bullshit. He’s not who he says he is.” I told him. Roderick just shook his head and laughed.

“Yes,” He said sarcastically, “Joannes, a pirate. Just because he’s a big man does not mean that he’s a criminal.”

 “That has nothing to do with it!” I yelled and crossed my arms, now leaning against the door frame. “I want him off my ship.”

“You are not my captain and this is not YOUR ship, Arabella.” Roderick argued. “Bring it up with the captain but this is one thing that you do not have complete authority over. My affairs are my affairs. Do keep a mind to stay out of them.” He said in my face as he closed the door behind us. I continued to follow him down the hall and just as my mouth opened,

“Arabella Porter,” I closed it when Joannes walked up to us. “Will you accompany me on a walk? I’m trying to get to know the crew and since you’re the first mate,”

“no way in hell.” I hissed. Roderick’s eyes widened and he turned to me, furious.

“You dare show hostility to my friend? He’s your guest.”

“We’re pirates. We don’t keep guests, we keep hostages. Stop acting like you’re my dad, Roderick.” I budged past him and turned when I heard his door slam behind me. Shit, I offended him and the only thing that stood between me and the hatch, was Joannes.

“I’m sorry to hear that my presence disturbs you.” He bowed. “I don’t know how I’ve..”

“Fuck off.” I said, staring at the scratch on his face. He took a deep breath.

“You’re quite the feisty one.” He finally said, looking down. “I was drunk.”

“Do you often dress like a desert bandit when you’re drunk or did I miss Halloween?” I stood my ground. “Get off my ship.”

“Do you dress like a lady when you go into a pub like that? I was blending in.” He explained and sat down on the side of the hallway. I stood in front of him.

 “Who were your sweet friends?” I asked. He put his head in his hands.

“I met them at the bar.” He answered.

“You didn’t have to attack me.” I said, sitting next to him. He took yet another deep breath and we sat there silent. “How’s your cheek?”

“still hurts.”

“good.”