Hooked

10.

Pierre walked home that evening with a spring in his step and his head held high. The date with Jack had gone so well, that they had agreed to meet with each other again the next morning for breakfast, and Pierre was beyond thrilled.

Pierre's boots thumped faster along the cobblestone street as he grew more eager to get back to the inn and tell Ash all about his lunch with Bakery Boy.

But when he knocked on her door, there was no answer. He knocked again, this time louder, and yelled: "ASH!"

Still no answer.

With a grumble, Pierre swung around on his heel and dragged himself outside to look for her.

Always losing her, he was.

Winding his way through the streets of the village, Pierre didn't think the place was as boring as Jack had made it sound. He thought it was rather pretty, actually.

Pots of plants hung from posts on houses- which were all nicely colored-, the smell of fresh bread constantly lingered through the air, and there were a lot of friendly cats that wandered around under carts and on the rooftops.

Pierre supposed that maybe Jack had been talking about the habitants, of the town, not how the town was. And as he observed the other people on the street, he realized Jack was right.

It was rare that you found a person who wasn't frowning, and those who weren't held expressions of annoyance or distaste. It was more often that you saw people arguing loudly then greeting each other nicely.

With still no sign of Ash, Pierre thought he would very subtly happen to walk past the bakery to see if Jack was making up his shift from lunch.

He adjusted his shirt sleeves and strode over to the bakery's store window, giving the inside a look over. But instead of seeing Jack, all Pierre saw was the big, bald man glaring back at him with a look Pierre knew all too well.

Not in the mood to deal with Baldie, Pierre moved on from the window and down the street. But it was too late- the pirate heard the telling bell that sounded when the bakery's door was opened. And when Pierre glanced behind himself, sure enough, there was the owner, striding determinedly in his direction.

The first mate really didn't want to make a big commotion, but what else was he to do?

He pulled his best knife from his belt, smoothly slipping it up his shirt sleeve, before turning into an alleyway and facing Baldie, who had surprisingly caught up to him quickly.

"Yes?" Pierre demanded calmly.

"What are you doing peeking through my store window?" Baldie thundered, staring down his nose at Pierre. "Looking for someone?"

"Just Jack," he replied matter-of-factly.

"And why was it that Jack requested off his shift this afternoon?"

Pierre looked up, straight into the man's eyes and said, "Because Jack and I went on a date and ate a delicious meal and talked together and laughed together and I kissed him right on his lips. And he loved it. He. loved. every. second."

(Of course, Pierre would never have the courage to kiss Jack right away like that, but Baldie didn't know this.)

Baldie gave a cold, sick grin, but before he could speak, the other spoke first.

"There," Pierre threw him a condescending smile. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Some sort of 'proof' that we don't love the same as you do? If you're even capable of love. Proof that would somehow justify you killing me?"

He made a show of eyeing a knife clutched in the man's hand, which was terribly hidden behind his back.

"Is murdering a couple of queers justifiable with your beliefs?"