revivalproject | Damn your love

WHO: Edward Teach, OTA
WHERE: The Diner
WHAT: Ed's being a nuisance
WHEN: Mid Sept
WARNINGS: TBD, smoking

Sugar

Ed didn't realize quite how used he'd gotten to the taste of finer things aboard Stede's ship until he was a few months into his time here. He stared at his cup of tea, if you could call it that, a distant scowl forming as he shoveled a ungodly number of spoonfuls of sugar into it (7, if you cared to count), stirring it idly. He'd lived off far worse than this, for far longer, but this lacked the pleasant perfume of Stede's brand.

He caught his reflection in the drink and scoffed at himself. When had he gone so damn soft?

Smoke

The unlucky diners of the day would find an added haze to their meal. Edward had settled in quite comfortably, pipe in hand, quite unaware that there was anything offensive about this action in modern times. He had his leg propped up on a chair, and made for a rather intimidating figure as he sat there, smoke encircling him. Will you approach, or will your nerves force your lungs to suffer through the meal in silence?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ed certainly could have given him plenty worse. Little Captain was very nearly a compliment.

"Fucking hell, Man, they're plants," he said with an exasperated roll of his eyes. What was next?

Yeah, maybe it was. But still, he's just going to roll with it.

"And they are plants that are keeping us alive."

"Weren't doing such a good job of that recently," Ed noted petulantly, but he relented.

"I don't need to touch one of those glowy things that fuck with your mind, do I?"

"I ain't responsible for every plant. They were... wrong, though. Sick?"

He wasn't sure about the wording of it. It was... pretty difficult to deal with.

"No, you don't. But that means you gotta listen to me give you directions a lot. And you'll be limited on what you could do."

"Of course," he purred with a bow of his head, and gave look as though he was offended by the suggestion he might not follow directions, though it was rather defeated by that twinkle in his eye that said Tommy was right to worry.

"When do we start?"

"When are you ready, Big Ed?" he asked, rising and moving to collect his box of harvested food.

Ed spread his hands, and reached to tuck his pipe away.

"Got nothing but time in this place," he welcomed, glad to have something to keep him from sitting idle. And then a pause- "How did you know my name?"

Well, there's that. But then Tommy looks at Ed. And after a moment, he bursts out laughing. That's fucking gold.

"I didn't. I just chose a cliche biker name. Oh fuck, are you really named Ed?"

"Biker?" Ed still didn't know what that weird term had to do with him, or why it would be associated with his name.

He nodded though, and gave a proper introduction.

"Edward Teach. Ed's good."

Edward Teach. Tommy laughed and shook his head.

"Wow, you're really going in on the pirate motif. Using Blackbeard's name. You're hilarious."

Did he really not know? Ed looked amused, tilting his head with a coy look and simply arching a brow.

"Am I, now?" he asked, pushing to his feet. The boy had heard of him but still didn't recognize he was face to face with the man himself. Though if he was going off those ridiculous drawings of him he could hardly blame him, could he?

Dude, the guy is SO far in the past, no one can be sure what he looked like.

"Yeah. I mean, he's supposed to have been real. But you earn real pirate nerd cred to use the name."

"Oh, he's real," Ed assured with a little smirk, "Know the guy. Pretty well actually..." He stroked his beard and let that silence hang for a moment.

Seriously? Tommy rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I don't really think the 'demon the seas' would let someone else use his name. So I don't buy it."

He nodded in consideration.

"You're right, I wouldn't," he confirmed with a pointed look.
"So- where are we off to, lead the way."

Tommy stopped, watching Ed for a long moment.

"You? You are supposed to be 'the Devil's Son'?"

"'The Devil's Son'?" Ed hummed, "Haven't heard that one before. It works."

He spread his arms and gave a small bow of his head. "Beard's a little less black than it used to be," he excused.

No. Fucking. Way. Tommy chuckled.

"Man, I'm not sure I can buy that."

Ed's nose wrinkled, brows turning into a frown.

"What, not enough guns?" he asked, gesturing to his person. He hadn't been allowed the one that usually sat at his hip, let alone the nine or so littering the illustration in Stede's book.

Not enough guns? Tommy looked confused.

"Guns don't make the pirate."

"Mmm, good lad," Ed clapped Tommy's shoulder and moved towards the door, "Keep up, let's go."

Keep up? Tommy snorts and walks away toward the kitchen.

"We're not heading that way, man. You're starting by dealing with sugar for me."

Of course they were.

Ed stalled in his path, turning and rerouting to follow after Tommy.

Well, that's something. He moves to the back room, stopping to keep the door open for the guy. No reason not to be polite to someone with a brace.

Ed didn't give the courtesy too much though, all ready poking around in to nearly everything he passed as he made his way through the back. He clearly had a very tactile curiosity along with an 18th century notion of kitchen protocols, seeing no reason not to touch any of the stored food with his bare hands.

"Why don't you charge people?" he asked, a question he'd had long before he knew who ran this place.

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