Captain Kirkland: How He Came To Be

Chapter X

Alcohol clashed with perfumed oils and human scents. This all would hit one had they stepped in even momentarily. Had that one had any ounce of common sense, they would have stepped out due to the odor alone. Had this not been the case, they would have waltzed straight in. 

As did Arthur Kirkland.

An occasion hosted by a certain Francis Bonnefoy, and an invitation like that simply could not be turned down. This is how the event's undercover pirates suddenly doubled. In addition to that and much to certain cabin boy's  displeasure, the alcoholic drinks seemed to be constantly refilling. 

Jonathan was one who couldn't handle his liquor very well, therefore he didn't flit near the drinks. The rest did, with no heed for sobriety. Soon enough, the drunken yells in English joined the French. Currently, amidst the chaos, Arthur had challenged a more sober Francis to a duel, had Jonathan not intervened at the last moment, leaving behind an amused Francis. 

"You can't just do that. It would turn out wrong on so many levels." Jonathan hissed to his now drunken Captain, who pondered this momentarily before clicking his tongue and saying; "Perhaps. Yet it seemed... Exciting. Oh, I near forgot. I have a little challenge for you. A game of Russian Roulette. What say you to that?" As the slurred words left his throat, Jonathan felt panic join his broiling worry. That was death.

"With all due respect, sir, isn't that played with a gun and a singular bullet?" It seemed the panic had inflicted all the manners. "Yes, of course it is." Without warning and faster than humanely registered, a gun was drawn out and shot, yet only a click was heard. A blank. Jonathan silently thanked everything dear to him before disarming Arthur, who pouted. "And there goes the fun." 

Arthur sighed, while Jonathan worried at his lower lip. He had no idea how much the blonde had to drink, whether or not he would recall this in the morning, and how he would react. It might be dangerous or passive, the lad was unpredictable. 

There was a jeer from behind them, so Jonathan physically dragged Arthur away before one of those unpredictable reactions could occur. Yet an event for such a reaction seemed inevitable, as the moment they stepped outside, they were joined by someone they had not previously noticed to be there.

A smirk played on the recently arrived albino's lips that eerily matched Arthur's usual one. Jonathan had come to the conclusion the two spent a tad too much time together. Gilbert sauntered closer and chuckled. "Oh, what have you done so horrid that fate left a drunken Artie in your hands?" He asked rather melodramatically, and the nickname confirmed Jonathan's earlier theory.

"'M not s'bad." Arthur had protested childishly, but was ignored in favor of a sober conversation. "Really sir, I have no clue." The title had slipped out due to old habits with the Captain. "You look really familiar, you know that?" The Prussian accent coated the words once it rolled off his tongue. "A trick of the mind, sir, no doubt." Came the instant reply, to which Gilbert shrugged.

"Unlikely, but I'll spare you the trouble and go with it." He glanced back to the drunken Brit. "Keep a close eye on him, lest he shoots someone with a bow and quiver." The Prussian said, and turned on his heel, beginning to stalk off when Jonathan decided to question light-heartedly; "Past experience?" 

"Too much, yet I should not be surprised."

"How come?"

"Well, he is my twin, after all." The albino disappeared, leaving the cabin boy agape.