64. 43 - Extract from the Diary of Aldrin Rogue
You will never believe what I fished out of the sea today.
Shut up, diary, I know you're a book. Just let me have my moment.
For some reason or the other, Queenie was holding to a plank of debris from a nearby shipwreck. I mentioned it to Patrick and I quite literally fished her out of the sea with Bex. We laughed about it, the three of us, and we chatted about idle subjects.
Why Queenie was out here, though, she just wouldn't say and I couldn't claim that my interrogation techniques had improved. After we left, I didn't really think she'd go off on her own...
Huh. Mum must have been in a piss about it.
But, anyway, Queenie's bothering Patrick right now, I think. She's become ridiculously attached to... urgh... Rum. God knows why, it's horrible. Very much prefer beer or cider. But she's half-drunk and Patrick hates a drunk on-board (although, he doesn't at all mind being drunk off-ship).
Hmm... This seems an opportune time to ask her questions, actually. After all, drunks don't lie. That was a lesson I learnt from Dad... though, Dad doesn't typically lie anyway.
My parents are really weird.
Cortés is just eager to get to land. Like, in all serious, you'd think he couldn't wait to meet Mum. Maybe he didn't like travelling by sea, maybe he was a closet Midnight Shadownight fan, I don't know. He still refused to talk to me though, but Bex seemed to get on his good side, so I hope she's asking the important questions - rather than sharing details on every stupid things she's witnessed me do.
I also have a letter to write to Mum... I just don't know what to write anymore. I could write about Queenie, I guess, but I still felt so... betrayed, you know? Like, kept in the dark for... for what? Because I wouldn't understand? Because Mum meant to be patronising? I just felt stupid and duped - and I don't particularly like feeling that way. Should I even bother writing? Why pretend?
Yeah, actually, why pretend?
I should come out and say it. But a letter wasn't the way to do that. I would confront her in person. But I'd let her know I was upset.
No more sugarcubes or cotton-tails or mumsys.