Adelise was a scruffy, rude, drunk, to say the least. Esme had no idea how Nightingale and Morrow were in any way related to her. Morrow, though a very stuck up man who devoted his life to thievery, still had a good bone in his body. Nightingale, even with a strange addiction to candy and a nasty attitude, was at least loyal.
But Adelise.... Adelise was different. Supersitious, snappy, sarcastic and unsanitary, Adelise wasn't exactly happy to see Nightingale. She was even more unhappy when Nightingale yanked the bottle of rum from her lips.
Esme already hated her.
"What do you need, Sister?" Adelise slurred, reaching below the table and unplugging yet another bottle. Nightingale's eyes locked on the alcohol, and, seemingly deciding that she couldn't stop her sister from drinking, sat down. Esme made to pull the glass from Adelise's mouth - if they were going to get Morrow back, they needed a strong girl, no a drunk one - but Nightingale pulled her down into the other chair.
"And where, pray tell, is our fugitive of a brother?" Nightingale rolled her eyes, clenching her hands together.
"We just got off of the Godspeed. Which, my dear younger stupid sister, was just attacked. Esme was knocked out-" Esme rubbed her palm against the stitches across her forehead. Wren had messily sewed the skin back together, and then had poured alcohol on the wound. Esme wasn't going to be talking to Wren for awhile, after that. "- and Morrow was taken. We don't know by who, though."
"And what do I have to do with it?" Adelise slammed the bottle down on the table, brushing her white-blond short hair behind her ear. She probably had lice and knits and... Esme shuddered, before putting a dagger on the table.
"We heard from a reliable source that you're a sort of... bounty hunter," Esme said, fingering the blade. Adelise's eyes locked on to the knife, her gaze panning over the dried blood stains on it.
"Yes, I am. A ghost bounty hunter. And I have a team. I can't just leave, if that's what you're wanting me to do." Adelise motioned to a group of five that sat at the bar. One, a girl with dark brown hair, was sitting on a boy's lap and slapping him. Another, a boy with glasses, was tinkering with a pistol. It randomly went off, and a girl with red hair dodged the bullet. The last person, yet another girl, was simply staring at the fire in the cobblestone oven.
Nightingale cocked her head to the side. "Some crew you got there. I don't think the girl who is busy snogging the boy will care if you're gone."
Adelise examined her fingernails, and said, "Hawthorne would never snog Fiver. She's slapping him. Because he's drunk."
"Oh, you mean like you?" Esme snapped, feeling impatient. She had no time for shenanigans. Morrow had no time for shenanigans. He could be being tortured right now, and she would've been here, listening to his drunk of a little sister ramble about her bounty hunting.
Adelise's gaze went from her nails to Esme. "I don't know why you even care about getting that stuck up blond out of whatever trouble he's in now. He is nothing but a coward."
Nightingale and Esme both shot to their feet at the same time, Nightingale grabbing the rum bottle and slamming it on the floor, and Esme flipping a chair over.
"My brother is not a coward!" Nightingale yelled. "He cares about his family, unlike you!"
"I'm sorry," Adelise said, standing up slowly, "but the last time I saw Morrow, he was running away from our father, and leaving me behind. Like. A. Coward."
Almost as quick as lightning, Esme grabbed the knife from the table, and thrust it into Adelise's arm. Dragging her towards the wall, she jabbed the blade even farther through her skin, finally reaching the wall. Adelise screeched like a banshee, writhing against the wall.
Esme leaned forward, and growled, "Morrow fought the Company, saved his sister, jumped in front of a gun to save a cabin boy and at least gives a shit about his crew. Unlike you." Esme twisted the knife around by the handle. Adelise screamed, kicking Esme in the shin. But Esme didn't move a muscle. "And you know what? Someone who hunts humans - dead or alive - for money are cowards. More of a coward than a pirate."
Esme suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see the dark haired girl from before - Hawthorne - who was flanked by her four companions.
"Please step away from our friend, Madame." She had a posh accent, one that said she was a lady of high class. Her deep brown eyes were staring Esme in the face, completely unnerving her. Adelise shook her head at Hawthorne.
"No, no. Thorne, I'm okay. Go back over there." Adelise looked at Esme and Nightingale as Hawthorne and the rest of them walked away, slamming their feet against the floors as they went. Adelise nodded. "Fine. Give me the details."
Esme bit her tongue, and yanked the knife out of her arm. Blood streamed down her arm, deeply staining her gray tunic. She sat down at the table again. Nightingale pulled out another bottle of rum, pushing it over to her sister. Adelise gulped slightly, keeping her arm plastered to her side, before reaching out with her other hand to get it.
Esme folded her hands together. "The last time we saw him, we were around one hundred and fifty nautical miles off the coast of Madagascar. The captain was a man of high status, wearing a black leather coat. White pants, black boots. Short hair. Probably a privateer, maybe for Spain, judging by his skin tone."
Adelise nodded, licking her lips. "What are you going to pay me?"
Nightingale tapped her fingers on the table. "If you find him, you might live a little longer. If you don't, all I can promise you...."