Stavanger Bay splice the mainbrace

If there had been a way to make rum, Raptor would have made some. He felt a lance of frustration at Smoke's comment that was borne of some deeper and more fragile part of his soul. It had nothing to do with the simple honesty his comrade had shared and had even less to do with this precise moment in time. It had everything to do with a desperate insecurity and inadequacy that he dared not admit to. But there it was, brief and burning, until he metaphorically shook it off.

Raptor hummed contemplatively for a moment. Could rum, or some palatable substitute, be made in winter he wondered. He thought of what he had on paw, or what was close enough to be had. He thought of burying a bunch of crabs and kelp but then immediately recalled what became of dead crabs... and it was not rum. Finding the same dead end down other various thought trails, he abandoned his pondering. Rum needed fruits, berries, and honey, and he had none.

"Oh I catch yer drift," Raptor winked, grinning toothily at his fellow thief. Smoke was quick to bounce the question back at him and his mind immediately went to a certain she wolf... but the sable pirate quickly snatched that bit of mail and stamped return to sender on it before sending it back on its way to whatever corner of his skull it came from.

"Nawww," he answered. "But I'm sure a nice ass will come along someday that I can charm and court," he snickered. "Say, on the topic of tail..." Raptor searched his friend's face, his joking expression taking a more sober appearance. "Do ye plan to keep wenches? Ye know what I mean... to keep the lads happy an' all..."