23: [Action/Video] Pirates

[dashboardlite]

Who'll make his mark
The captain cried
To the devil drink a toast
We'll glut the hold
With cups of gold
And we'll feed the sea with ghosts
I see your hunger for a fortune
Could be better
Served beneath my flag
If you've the stomach
For a broadside
Come aboard my pretty boys
I will take you and make you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

Obscenely loud music is blaring from one of the first floor parlors, and it possesses a remarkable nautical quality that borders on the fucking epic.  You might be wondering the reason for these festive tunes, curious resident.  If you happen to be peering through your communicator or walking down the hall, venturing into the nearest open door, your vision is assaulted by a swath of colorful fabrics draped over the furniture, from the ceilings, along the walls.  The alluring glitter of gold winks up at you from piles on the floor, and a bust of someone who looks suspiciously like Edward Teach is bedecked in jewelry and scarves.

The captain rose from a silk divan
With a pistol in his fist
And shot the lock from an iron box
And a blood red ruby kissed
I give you jewelry of turquoise
A crucifix of solid gold
One hundred thousand silver pieces
It is just as I foretold
You, you see there before you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

You might even see Dean Winchester, sporting an eyepatch and a large, plumed hat, lounging on a silk divan.  His jeans are tucked into heavy leather boots and he's wielding a flintlock pistol, cleaning the barrel with a chamois rag.  Pausing for one moment, he sets the gun aside and reaches over to pick up one of the gold doubloons scattered across the floor.  He then peels away the leafing and pops the chocolate money into his mouth, enjoying it with obvious relish.  Turning the music down as soon as it breaks to an instrumental interlude, Dean crosses his legs on the divan, getting comfortable.

He pulls out a hip flask, taking a swig and saluting the camera with his left hand - observant residents might notice that he appears to have only four fingers now.  Then he spreads his arms to welcome the adoring audience.

"All aboard, bitches."

Comments

[Action] (ooc: Late~ Late~ This is late~ (Sorry about that))

[demon-bitch.livejournal.com]

[At this point, the only thing Sam can do is just stand in the doorway and stare. He's not sure what is is going on. He's not sure he even wants to ask.]

[But the eye-patch and missing finger are cause for alarm and he has to know what happened.]

Dean? What the hell?

[Action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Heyyy, Sammy.

[He's been drinking.

Dean pops the top of his flask and drinks some more.]

'Sup?

[Action]

[demon-bitch.livejournal.com]

Dean. What...what happened? [He's used to Dean being drunk, so he just bypasses that to get straight to the point.]

[Action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Spot of torture, mate.

[Yes, he is a pirate today. Just...just don't ask.]

[Action]

[demon-bitch.livejournal.com]

Torture? By- who- what did this?

[Action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Oh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy...this is your brother. You should know by now that he's not gonna give up the ghost so easily. Dean waves his hand. ]

Doesn't matter. I took care of it. Now I'm just kinda...rockin' the look, y'know?

Re: [Action]

[demon-bitch.livejournal.com]

So I noticed. You going to be searching for treasure later too?

[Action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[GRIN.]

You kiddin'? I am always on the lookout for booty.

[You walked right into that one, Sam.]

Re: [Action]

[demon-bitch.livejournal.com]

[He really did. And he has no one to blame but himself.]

[Doesn't stop him from rolling his eyes, even as he feels a grin slip across his face.]

Right. Of course you are.

[Action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

So-

[Dean fiddles with the stopper to his flask, because - let's face it - he's not going to talk about this "torture" thing. Not with anyone. Not even with Sammy or Cas. There are some things that were said that Dean's knows he can't repeat, because they'd prove just how easily broken he is.]

-get any booty yourself, Sammy? There's a coupla hot chicks around the joint.