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John Silver is a man who knows his way around a kitchen. Even one that's gleaming with more steel than the entire British Navy's armory. And this kitchen is a sea cook's dream. The pantries are stocked to the ceiling, and there's cold storage with fresh meat and eggs and even cheese.

First off, he wants a joint. Something that isn't pig or bird. A proper beef joint, like a fine gentleman would have for his Sunday dinner. And he's going to make it himself. There's something disturbing about having rats handle his food. They gave up trying to shoo him out of the kitchen when he waved his crutch at them, nearly taking one's head off.

'Go on! Bleedin' vermin. I run a fine establishment, and there are no rats in the larder!' Well, at least not for long, anyway. 'Get out, or I'll find a cat to turn loose in here, and then you'll see what for!'

He'll have this place up to snuff in no time, given half a chance.

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She smiles and shakes his hand, hers is calloused through years of work in the garden,

"No, I think I would remember you. As I said I'm Demeter."

'Demeter... As in...'

He's still holding her hand, bending to brush a kiss across her knuckles, wobbling a bit on his crutch.

'The woman who brought Hades to his knees?'

"No, that would be my daughter, but I do like putting the situation that way."

'Well, forgive me for not showing proper respect, my lady.' He dips his chin to indicate his stump. 'I only have the one, and it makes getting up and down a bit of a spectacle. Come in, come in. Can I get you anything? Cup of tea, perhaps?'

That's what proper ladies drink around here, isn't it?

"No need to apologize. What are you up to in here? I'd prefer some wine, join me for a glass."

His eyebrows go up and he greets her suggestion with a broad grin.

'I remember you Mediterranean lasses. Get a sailor drunk, and separate him from his coin, I know how you are.' The tone of his voice suggests those were some of the happiest days of his youth.

He's already snapping his fingers at a rat, and moving to find some glasses.

'We should find some cheese, to go with these beautiful figs.' And the wine, of course. He makes his way over to one of the many shelves, and pulls out a bottle of red. (Men like him always know where the stash is.)

"Ah yes, I should have brought some with me,"

She goes to the fridge and starts looking for a good cheese and finds a nice goat.

Mr. Silver leaves the bottle of wine on the sideboard, and takes up the basket of figs, moving to the sink to rinse them off.

'Lady Demeter. I knew a ship once, carried your name. She was long of line, sleek, and good in a fight.'

"That seems appropriate. I've never sailed that much, Poseidon and I don't get along."

'Oh, aye. He can be a right bastard, when he wants to be.'

Figs washed, he dumps them on a cloth to dry and carry them over to where the cheese is laid on the board.

That done, he pulls the cork on the wine bottle and pours them two hefty portions.

'So, what are we drinking to?'

"A good summer and yes, all of my brothers can be,"

They have their uses but she'd rather forget that they exist.

'Aye, to a good summer then. May fair winds find you, where'ere you are.'

He clinks his glass to hers and drinks.

"Fair winds, yes, you are more Poseidon's than mine if you're anyone's."

He grins at her and gives her a bit of wink.

'No, ma'am, if you don't mind my saying. I am a good Christian lad. I go to Church every chance I get.'

He belongs to the Devil, though he'd never admit it in polite company.

"Of course, of course, we're just stories except when we're real."

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