Captain Jack's

Bagugu walked into the front door of Captain Jack's, as Sir Muffinton and he always did on Thursday night. The place was always full of people, but Thursdays seemed to be a little more low-key on the whole, and allowed the two to engage in their favorite pass time; smoking cigars and drinking. Bagugu, dressed in his 'going out' top hat that Sir Muffinton had some time back suggested he acquire for their nights on the town, snaked his way through the crowd headed for the bar.

Once at the bar, he took a seat, and waited for Sir Muffinton, whom he knew would be just a step or two behind him.

"Two of the usual!" he said with a wave to the bartender, his voice gruff and raspy from his lifetime of cigar smoking. In only a few moments, the barkeep would bring two glasses, one filled with a dark liquor, and the other with fresh cow's milk.

Bagugu reached for the special case that he kept their hand-rolled cigars in, and retrieved two; one lighter in color and one darker. He took a small reed and lit it the end of it off of a candle burning on the bar. He put both cigars in his mouth, and lit them one at a time. After the ends of both glowed with a strong smoldering cherry, he offered the lighter of the two to his friend, Sir Muffinton.

Bagugu tapped his glass of intoxicating dark liquor against Muffinton's glass of cold milk with a clank. He handed the cigar over to his friend, and held his own in his mouth, taking several puffs off of it before taking a mannerly sip of his drink. He didn't hurry to answer his companion's comment. Thursday nights weren't about hurrying, or have to. Thursday nights at Captain Jack's were about taking it easy, and unwinding, and in the process enjoying a few drinks and a nice cigar. Sir Muffinton always arranged the delivery of the finest tobacco the pair could feasibly afford on their little luxury, and Bagugu expertly rolled them in the dried leaves of the pair's choosing - of course adding a bit of catnip to Muffinton's cigar.

The witch doctor took another long puff off of his cigar, the sweet smelling and pleasantly aromatic tobacco smoke filling his nose as he did so.

"A nice night, and a nice cigar." he said, his words pushing his mouthful of smoke out. Bagugu looked down at his feline companion slightly as he sat at the bar. "Looks like we beat the sailors in tonight. Must be too far out from payday for them to have much coin left you think?"

They were odd, the pair of them. Not only odd individually, but odd as a pair. A cat with all but entirely human habits and a witch doctor that, well – was what one would expect from a witch doctor. Despite their pairing, they had been in the area as long as anyone else, and their business for healing and other magical trinkets already had a reputation for being fair. It was only those that could be counted amongst the most foolish that would want to make the pair of them enemies, as if one ever got hurt they would likely find themselves in their shop.

Bagugu nodded at Muffinton’s words. The sailors were good customers, but they also were in the habit of bringing in some of the more exotic and interesting magical trinkets they found as their ships sailed to faraway lands. The witch doctor took his cigar around of his mouth, holing it between the first and second knuckles on his right hand. He reached with the same hand for the rim of his glass. He picked it up and took a slightly bigger sip than he had before, and set it back down.

He looked at the ember on the tip of his cigar, and rolled the tobacco-filled tube between his fingers; examining it.

“Monkey teeth.” he added, to Muffinton’s thought. “The red itch is making the rounds through one of the local fancy houses, and the sailors have been needing the ground teeth for the cure. You know those sailors; if one brings it back they all have it in a few weeks.”

Bagugu took his glass in his hand again, and threw back the remainder of the liquor inside as Muffinton finished his. As the feline asked for seconds on the milk, Bagugu held up two fingers and pointed to his own glass. They both received their refill. The witch doctor sipped the top bit off of his new drink before putting it back on the bar. He put his cigar in his mouth, and spoke around it as he leaned lazily on the bar with both elbows.

"Everyone has their little vice, I guess." he said, speaking just a bit out of the side of his mouth. "I bet they spend as much on fancy houses as we do on cigars and drink. And.." he reached up and took his cigar out of his mouth, a puff of smoke leaving as he did so. "Let us not forget they're good for business."

Bagugu smiled, showing his slightly discolored teeth; probably from all the smoking and dark alcohol.

"We've got enough for a few weeks at this rate, but if it doesn't wash out of the whore houses after about that time we're going to need to keep more on hand than we normally do."

The witch doctor ashed his cigar, the clump of burned tobacco falling to a small metal pan on the bar. Most people in the bar didn't bother with the trays for their smoking, but Bagugu figured someone had to clean it up if he just ashed his cigar in the floor like everyone else. Being a place he frequented with Sir Muffinton at least once a week, he thought it best to extend the small gesture of goodwill to the staff.

At Muffinton's gesture, Bagugu would ash his cigar again into the pan on the bar, and take his feline friend's cigar off of the bar. He put the catnip cigar into his mouth, and pressed the hot coal on the end of his own cigar into the tip to light it again. With a few puffs, and a little maintenance, he would have it back over to Muffinton again with a bright red smoldering tip.

"Supply and demand." Bagugu repeated as he used the thumb on the same hand that held his cigar to scratch his brow, the smoke from the cigar curling up over the brim of his hat as he did so. "Well at least one of the fancy houses is creating the demand, that's for sure. Maybe you should find time to make the rounds and offer our services to the madams of the houses. We wouldn't be losing money in the long run getting at the root of the problem. The first time one of the sailors doesn't wrap their weasel in some god forsaken hell hole, we'll be right back in the itch business."

Sir Muffinton was always looking after the finances. That was how their partnership worked, and worked best. Bagugu did the magic, and Muffinton did the books and kept the store stocked. Their friendship had given rise to a mutual partnership that yielded a business they could depend on to make a living. If nothing else, it kept them in cigars and drinks at the bar on Thursdays.

Bagugu was about to say something else when a roar went up behind him. Several patrons were shouting all at once as it appeared two men were about to engage in another pass time of the bar; beating each other senseless. The witch doctor turned in his seat at the bar, towards Muffinton, and looked on lazily. It was nothing new, and the fights rarely got out of hand, but it was something to watch.

Bagugu wasn't quite as put out with the fighting as Sir Muffinton was. The witch doctor was certain his companion knew intellectually what was happening between the crowd and the fighters, but was unsure that he had the human experience of being viscerally attracted to something like a bar room brawl. To be young and stupid, and think being beat to a pulp was a way to blow off steam or prove one's manhood. It was an entirely ridiculous idea if you let it at all appeal to your intellect. Bagugu wasn't an old man, but one-the-less the witch doctor was no young pup anymore; no longer the boy eager to inform everyone around him that he should be counted among the men. Everything changed with time, it seemed, and if these brawling sailors and bar flies were here in another decade, Bagugu could imagine them sitting right where he was - watching another bar fight, and thinking the same thing. 'Morons'.

The man turned back to his drink, and took a big gulp, leaving only a tiny bit left in the bottom of the glass. He swallowed, and followed the gulp with the last little bit of liquor. He would wait for now before ordering another, content to give the alcohol a minute or two to do its work before making the decision on a third glass. Bagugu was a drinker, and at times saw fit to drink entirely too much - but there again - Thursdays were not about getting blasted out of their minds on booze and catnip. The pair's nights out were a much more measured, civilized affair, as odd as that may have seemed coming from a witch doctor and a cat.

“Speaking of small minded humans-“ Bagugu responded, obviously moving to change the subject away from business and punch-drunk bar patrons. “Some interesting gossip came through if you’d care of hear it.”

Of course Dapper Cat was going to hear the gossip whether he wanted to or not. Bagugu laid his cigar down in the tray on the bar.

“The Fierna family owns the largest estate on the island, and on the whole they seem to be a bit on the reclusive side; a family of bankers apparently, with plenty of money. Anyway the scuttlebutt coming out of the Fierna house from the workers that built it is that they’re a family of devils. Weird going’s on in there and whatnot. They even say the head of the family is an old crone – a thousand years old and ugly as original sin.”

Some might have expected Bagugu to move to help the cat with the task that would otherwise be trivial to a being with thumbs, but he didn't. He knew well that Dapper Cat was perfectly capable of unfolding the bill, and had the type of patience that would allow him to sit and watch the cat unfold the bill slowly. Sure, Bagugu was in the habit of helping certain tasks along (like cigar lighting) but Muffinton was his friend and compatriot, not a baby or someone in need of his constant care.

When Muffinton had paid, Bagugu took his cigar out of the tray and put it in his mouth again - more or less holding it there until it would go out. He stood, the tall almost lanky figure of the man rising to his feet as he tipped his hat to the bartender.

"Thank's for the drinks Dapper Cat." he said, thanking his friend, not bothering to mention that Muffinton had just told a witch doctor that devils don't exist.

Assuming they were ready to leave to avoid any of the fighting, Bagugu waited for Dapper Cat to jump down so he could follow his friend out.

Jack looked down over the bar from his customary place on the upper balcony. It had a good view, but still left him out of the path of the occasional brawl. The bouncers and the bartenders handled most of the business of actually running the place day-to-day, leaving him mostly only to see to the broad strokes. He had to work at not thinking of them as ship’s officers some days.

He was an old sailor, and like most old sailors, he had seen a lot in his life. Most of the strangeness that wandered through Jack’s was old hat to him by now. But the walking and talking housecat in a waistcoat was something different. He came in with that witch doctor fellow at least once a week, occasionally more, ordered expensive drinks, and didn’t cause trouble. By all logic, Sir Muffinton was almost the ideal customer.

But something about the creature just didn’t sit right with old Captain Jack. Probably the way he was a walking and talking housecat in a waistcoat. He leaned over and whispered to one of the crew standing nearby. It was time to see what he could learn about this cat...

A warm laugh accompanied the woman’s entrance. She waved at someone outside as she pushed open the door and stepped into the bar. Jack’s was where people new to the island often came, so most of the customers didn’t know who the tiny woman in the white coat was. Those of them that did quickly moved out of her way and opened a spot at the bar for her.

“Hey there, darlin’.” She smiled brightly to the bartender. “Somethin’ strong an’ sweet, if it ain’t too much trouble, yeah? Whatever comes easy to hand. I ain’t too picky.”

The tiny woman leaned forward over the bar, watching curiously as her drink was prepared. Once she had it in hand, Layla took a sip and nodded, then placed a rather substantial stack of coins on the bar. “You let me know if that runs out.” With another laugh, she turned to look over the bar, scanning the crowd for anyone she might know.