EP

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

The door opens, revealing a mere glimpse of candle-lit dimness before being blocked by the tall figure of Barbossa in the full gaudy glory of his usual attire, ostrich-plumed hat included. The old pirate's lips curl slightly into a faint sneer as his dark eyes gaze around the alien place. Sooner or later, the door was bound to reappear, he knew.

With solemn if slightly limping strides, he walks up to the Bar and leans slightly towards it, both a gesture of greeting and a practical way to make sure his voice is heard above the local din.

"Good evening, Señora. A mug of rum with something good for scurvy in it would do me a mighty fine amount of good right now. May I say, you look exceptionally polished and beautiful this night?" After that bit of flattery he stands back, taking the mug when the Bar offers it. "Thank you so much, Señora." Then he heads to one of the booths, sitting a tad heavily, mug cupped in both hands and his long legs stretched under the table.

Come bother the old pirate as he nurses his grog.

[OOC: I'm back for a few hours at the very least. Continue to tag away!]