One Remarkable Mistake [USUK]

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

If, by any chance, being placed into an undesirable situation once was pleasant enough, then surely Alfred had won the jackpot in the most peculiar of ways, seated within a rather visually thunderous room with a window being positioned near the top, illuminating what littered the few shelves behind the Captain that had been imperviously placed into the wooden slots, all of which had been aligned with maps and various items that he could only assume were brought aboard from past raids, along with a various amount of ruthless assortments.

Through all the golden trinkets, along with possible contraband that could only be stowed far into the ships crevices, only one thing garnered his attention, now trained to the one who had long since seated themselves at the opposite side of the desk, waiting almost in a patient manner for those few seconds, a forced distance between them to where one may suddenly stand and rush towards the other's throat. Though, without much of a glance, there was already a solution if that became a concern and it almost seemed to be something the other was proud of as his chin was slightly raised, and he slacked into the chair he had previously looked so high in. Any lingering thought of attacking the other washed away, Kirkland's right arm held him as he elbow rested upon the armrest, pistol held steady with the tip of his pointer finger wrapped around the trigger, prepared to ease onto it at any wrong move by an imbecile that dared to stray into his line of sight. In that unfaithful moment, that person was none other than Alfred, who sat rather stiff and straight, especially for someone who had been pushed into the seat, eyes never moving from the desk in an anxious attempt to not dig his nails into his hands.

Perhaps a lack of will laid in the man now presented to him, but rather it seemed far from that. No, it didn't take much of a glance to notice the wrinkle of his nose as the salt scent washed away, or how the collar of his shirt had been straightened with care. This man wasn't accustomed to such a rugged life, there wasn't an imperfection insight that could constitute months or years of duels that had gotten out of hand, or the quirk in his neck that may hint from any familiarity associated with a magazine being shoved in and the pull back barrel to load the first bullet.

Hands shaking Alfred gripped onto them with a tighter force, striving for a calm demeanor in order to seem collected, but he could tell it was falling apart, unable to draw his eyes from the weapon positioned and ready. "So, what now?" Lip curling at the sound of his own voice, troubled by the thought of that trigger being further pressed on. 

Arthur's gaze became hooked upon the other, gently setting his beloved weapon down onto the desk, deeming such a fear tactic to be pointless, the corner of his mouth turning upright at the notion that all it took was his mere presence. A tidbit of information he had gladly accepted, in such a sense being loved was a rather difficult art, one wrong move and cracks would form along until reaching the center, and hate was a rather unchallenging vice to maintain. After all, even in the deepest of hearts, no matter how sweet or charming, something always stirred, waiting for the fire to provoke the powder to set off the final blow.

Getting up from his seat as he strode over, the sun was soon to set and yet after their various encounters he had no true idea of what lay before him, rather who he had ended up taking into his clutches; furthermore, what to do with the lad. That was the piece of this puzzle he himself hadn't considered, Antonio's first mate would have been held for ransom, possibly succumbing to brutality may have awaited or followed; however, he had no known account of who sat before him. Still, without that disclosure what light was provided into the room was far more than enough, lifting his chin ever so slightly to get a better glimpse, the urge to pull back in shock only to stand his ground. Ever so delicately removing the frames as he swept Alfred's bangs back.

What was to be done with him would be decided, while it was a task that had no room to be spared, it certainly wasn't the most demanding in this time.

. .