Isabela has been on the ship for a while now. Long enough to know she's stuck here. Which sucks, yes, but on the plus side? She likes ships. She likes them better when she's in control of them. Which might be why she's opening door after door to try to find the captain's quarters so she could maybe take them out and take control.

Every day stuff for a pirate.

However, she finds a lot of other things instead. Possibly involving other people as well. She'll probably hit on them. The narration apologizes already.

Sonny has been on this ship for not long at all, but he is already behind the bar where he knows how to be. There's a sign on top of the advice that says Free Fuckin' Advice on top as he leans against the other side of the bar. He is not responsible for the sign for the record. Sonny is also not responsible for the fact that some people who end up at this bar will find themselves far more likely to share their troubles than they would be ordinarily. They'll suddenly find words for troubles they've never been able to describe before.

It's the ship's magic, and Sonny is a demon and a bartender who is over eighty years old. He's done some terrible things for selfish reasons, and he's done some terrible things for the good of others, and he's loved and had a family. Nothing's ever that fucking simple.

He has plenty to say, but he's going to say it all in his own fucking way.

Come have a drink.

Come spill the things you can't ever normally put to words. Come let someone listen or give a word or two that might set you on the right path or the wrong path or any fucking path.

It's what he's here for.

[ those ghost-robots have fished what appears to be a fresh corpse out of the water. where did this guy in a wwii military jacket come from? who knows. a door probably opened a little too close to the side of the ship at the least opportune moment knowing this ship's track record and the dead man in question's luck.

—or, perhaps, not so dead after all.

lifeless one moment, he's surging back to life the next. air rushes into his lungs with a powerful gasp and he sits up, turning and hunching over slightly so he can properly cough up the water that flooded his lungs out onto the deck. ]

Drowned. [ the laugh that mingles with the tail end of his coughing fit doesn't at all sound amused, but he doesn't seem all that bothered by any of this, either. ] Haven't done that one in a while. Gotta love the classics.

[ by the time he pushes himself to his feet, it's as if he did nothing more than take an impromptu swim. soaked to the bone, but breathing fine and showing no signs of having been lying dead on the deck mere minutes before. ]