Glasses Raised to the Blood and Sugar

The Steel Coin wasn’t the kind of vessel that ever saw battle with anything but the weather, and during its last trip, the weather had nearly won. The Coin’s crew was safe in the end, nearly all of it gathered in the same tavern just off the docks, drinking both to celebrate and with hopes that it would warm them up. The storm had passed the day before they’d arrived, but every last one of them still felt soaked to the bone. The drinks were hard and hot and, along with the atmosphere, worked well to edge away the chill, which was when a sailor off another ship shared the rumour. It made a fine story, it made a fine toast – glasses raised to the Blood and Sugar – but the conversation moved on from it just as soon as it had come. The story meant little to most everyone in the tavern that night, the traders and travellers of small enough vessels that they never had the misfortune of crossing paths with the pirates' ship.

Lancaster met Ellis’s eyes only for a moment before she looked away, face still as ever. She did not join the toast.

...

He had been keeping an eye on her throughout the evening but still hadn't managed to notice when she left. Tally and Jules did their best to pull him back into his seat when he stood, searching the room for her. As soon as he was sure she was no longer there, he pardoned himself with some flashy excuse and with promises that he'd be right back.

The tavern let out right onto the waterfront. The warm lanternlight spilling from the window did not reach all the way to the end of the docks where Ellis was standing. When he came up beside her, she glanced over just long enough to recognize him, then cast her gaze back over the water. It seemed so calm after a storm so violent. She held a shot glass, still full, running her thumb back and forth along the rim. Only when it was clear she had no intention of speaking did he start instead. “Do you think it’s true?”

“Could be.”

“Are you alright?”

A long pause. Then Ellis shrugged, withdrawing her eyes to her glass. “‘S not my ship anymore.”

“Were they your friends?”

Ellis’s jaw flexed in warning displeasure, but still, she gave a tentative nod.

Lancaster returned it. “I figured. It’s never wrong to mourn for friends.” He set a hand on her shoulder, gave it a rub.

With a touch not nearly as gentle, Ellis took the four-fingered hand and removed it from her. He turned his head to her with the expression of a kicked puppy, but her stare was resolutely towards the water beneath her. “What does that make me?”

“What?”

“Mourning pirates.”

“Ellis…”

“Friend of pirates.”

“You know better than anyone that they were still people.”

She shook her head, kept shaking it. “Bad people, Cassie.”

“Then what does that make you?” He didn’t catch it until it was said out loud and Ellis shut her eyes. “... That’s…” He stuttered, laughed, shook his head. “It’s not true. That was the point I was making. You left. You're proof. You aren’t a bad person.”

“Then I shouldn’t be mourning for the ones who didn't.”

“You still knew them.”

“Because I’m one of them.”

“Please, Ellis, you’re breaking my heart.”

She looked at him, pained. “Sorry.”

Lancaster fell silent. Ellis quickly redirected her gaze to her hands as she wrapped them carefully around her glass. He watched them, too, for a moment, then spoke again: “You're not going to be able to make it stop hurting just because you think you should. Trust me, I've tried.” Her shoulders trembled with her slow exhale. And Lancaster said, “Do you wanna know what I think it makes you?”

Almost reluctantly, she turned her head. "What?"

Smiling, he said, “It makes you Ellis Jackwell. World’s best swordarm. Former pirate. Hard working member of the Steel Coin’s crew. My teacher, my mentor, my friend.” Looking back over the water, he sighed. “I suppose the question now is what that makes me.”

This time, when she broke her stare, it was to hide the twitch of a smile cracking her face. “Makes you someone I fuckin’ worry about.”

With a soft gasp, Lancaster set a hand over his heart. “Me? There’s nothing here to worry over except my good looks and fantastic taste, I assure you.” Ellis’s grin fought harder and she hid it behind the hand holding the glass. Flourish gone from his voice, Lancaster slowly raised an arm towards the sky and said, “So. How about a toast?”

Ellis glanced skeptically up at his empty hand. Then she raised her own arm to fit her hand along with the glass into his, feeling the missing end of his little finger brush up against it. “To the Blood and Sugar,” she told the sea. Then, lowering her voice as if it were a secret between it and her, “May they rest in peace.” With that, she broke her hand from Lancaster’s, shot back the glass, then threw it down against the dock, spectacular shards of glass bursting around her feet and spilling into the dark water.

In answer, the sea was quiet. After a moment, Lancaster whispered, “That glass was the tavern’s.”

“... Shit.”

“It’s alright, we’ll get you back inside and you can pay for it, come on.”

“Right. Fuck me.”