Tsujo's Third Option

Or I could just keep wandering. Maybe I'd stumble upon some unguarded loot, or better yet, a stash of food that didn’t require brawling with my mates to enjoy.

Decision made, I kept wandering through the ship, hoping maybe I’d stumble upon some unguarded loot, or better yet, a stash of food that didn’t require brawling with my mates to enjoy. My steps were quiet against the lush carpet—a stark contrast to the usual creak of timbers below deck on our own vessel. I meandered through the ship, peeking into various rooms laden with gaudy rich people trinkets that might as well be treasures that sparkled under the bright sunlight pouring through the windows. None of it was food, but some of it might fetch a pretty penny or two.

Eventually, my wanderings brought me to a slightly ajar door from which a sliver of sunlight spilled into the hallway. Curious, I pushed the door open gently and peered inside. There, framed against the large window, was a couple so engrossed in the chaos unfolding on the deck below that they hadn’t heard me enter. They stood close together, the woman clutching the man’s arm, her other hand pressed to her mouth as her eyes scanned the scene outside with evident alarm.

“Oh, Reginald, they’re tearing the ship apart! What if they come in here? What will we do?” Her voice trembled with fear, her cute butt wiggling as she shifted from foot to foot, a stark contrast to the determined set of the man’s shoulders as he held her.

“Don’t worry, Vivienne. We’ll be fine,” Reginald—apparently—replied, his tone attempting reassurance. “The Marines must be on their way. They won’t let this go on for much longer.”

Intrigued by their exchange but more captivated by my growling stomach, I spotted a tray filled with an assortment of food on a nearby table. The sight of real, possibly delicious food momentarily pulled my attention away from the couple's plight. I sauntered over, the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafting up to greet me. Grabbing a leg of chicken, I tore into it with relish, the juices dripping down my chin as I leaned against the wall, still half-listening to their worried banter.

“They’re so violent, Reginald. What if the Marines don’t arrive in time?” Vivienne’s voice cracked as she clung tighter to her husband, her eyes wide and darting towards the window then back to Reginald as if seeking confirmation that they were indeed safe with him.

Reginald wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “They will come, my dear. Hold tight. Remember, these pirates are looking for loot, not hostages. We will not draw attention to ourselves.”

“But what if one of them finds us? What then, Reggie?” Vivienne’s voice rose in panic, her earlier composure crumbling as she considered the possibility.

I snorted, shaking my head as I stuffed another piece of bread into my mouth. Pirates finding them? More like finding their dinner first. I glanced over at Vivienne, who continued to tremble, her fear palpable and her disposition towards her husband showing a mix of reliance and desperation.

Reginald seemed to sense her escalating fear, his voice firm, almost commanding as he tried to soothe her. “Then I will protect you. We are not defenseless here. And besides, I doubt any of the pirates are as interested in **** as they are in valuables.”

Despite Reginald's assurances, Vivienne shook her head, her expression one of dread. “I just hope you’re right. I can’t bear the thought of… of any of them touching me…”

Her little shivers of fear and those enticing wiggles started to mix in my head with the rumbling of my now sated hunger. The room was bright, the sunlight illuminating her figure in a way that highlighted all her curves. As I stood there, tearing off another piece of bread, I knew I should be thinking about sneaking back to my ship, but all I could focus on was the way her dress clung to her every time she moved.

Then she looked right at me abruptly.

Caught with my hand still gripping a juicy leg of chicken, I paused mid-bite. There she was, every bit the picture of high society with her perfectly coiffed hair and a tiny beauty mark that seemed to accentuate her refined features. And when our eyes met, instead of the scream or panic I half-expected, she just smiled and gave me this dainty, half-hearted wave. It was like she was greeting a guest at one of her fancy soirees, not a pirate who had just crashed her floating palace.

"What?" I managed, my mouth still full of chicken, speaking more to myself than to her. My brow furrowed in confusion. Was she not scared? Her husband turned to see what had caught her attention, and his reaction was just a notch above indifferent. No yelling for help, no rushing to shield her or whatever a devoted husband was supposed to do in these situations.

"Yeah, hi," I said, a bit more loudly, waving the chicken leg in my hand as if it was the most normal thing to do. Vivienne's smile widened just a tad, not a trace of fear in her expression.

"Hello," she replied calmly, her voice smooth and unnervingly composed. "Seems you've found the dining service. Any good?"

I blinked. Was she seriously making small talk? With a pirate? In the middle of a raid? I glanced down at the food, then back at her, chuckling awkwardly. "Yeah, it's not bad. Better than what we got on our ship, that's for sure."

Reginald, finally stepping closer but still as calm as a summer sea, nodded. "Please, help yourself. No need for unpleasantness. We're all civilized here, aren't we?" His tone was almost jocular, as if we were merely discussing the weather or the state of the stock market.

"Uh, right..." I mumbled, unsure how to proceed. The whole scene felt surreal. Here I was, a pirate in the middle of looting their ship, and these two were acting like I was a neighbor who had popped by for a spot of tea. Was this some kind of rich folk bravado? Or had they simply lost their minds?

Deciding to test the waters further, I took a daring step closer, my gaze drifting from the tray back to Vivienne. "So, not worried about pirates, then? That's pretty cool of you."

Vivienne laughed softly, a sound that seemed too delicate and musical for the situation. "One does what one must, I suppose. But tell me, do pirates prefer red or white wine with their stolen chicken?"

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound booming louder than I intended in the lavish room. "Depends on the pirate, I guess. I'm more of a rum man myself."

Her laugh joined mine, creating a bizarre harmony that echoed against the polished walls.

As the laughter died down, a sly grin spread across my face. Their cool demeanor in the face of danger piqued my curiosity—and my more impish inclinations. If these folks were so unflappable, I wondered just how far their calm would stretch.

Stepping closer to Vivienne, I decided to push the boundaries a bit. My gaze dropped to the glittering necklace she wore—a pretty piece that looked valuable enough to make any pirate's heart beat faster. "Nice necklace," I remarked casually, reaching out as if to examine it but really just testing her reaction.

To my surprise, Vivienne didn't flinch or step back. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, allowing me better access. "Do you like it? It was a gift from Reginald on our anniversary," she said, her voice tinged with pride.

With a quick glance at Reginald, who merely raised an eyebrow but made no move to intervene, I unclasped the necklace and slipped it into my pocket. "It's beautiful. I think I’ll keep it," I said, watching closely for any sign of protest.

"Very well," Vivienne replied with a small, resigned sigh, as if I had commented on the weather rather than stolen her jewelry.

Encouraged by their bizarre tolerance, I grew bolder. My hand moved from the necklace to her shoulder, then down to poke at her side, testing her personal boundaries. When she only looked at me curiously, I let my fingers trace a more daring path, poking her boob lightly.

Vivienne just blinked, looking down at my finger then back up at me. "Is there something else you find appealing?" she asked, her tone neutral, almost as if she were discussing a piece of art.

This was getting weird, but it was too intriguing to stop. Chuckling nervously, I squeezed her boob, fully expecting this to be the point when Reginald would throw a punch or Vivienne would slap me. But no—she just stood there, looking mildly inconvenienced.

"Quite bold, aren’t you?" Reginald commented, his voice cool but devoid of anger.

Ignoring the odd comment, I let my hand drop lower, grasping Vivienne's ass. She stiffened slightly and a hint of discomfort flashed across her face. It wasn't the reaction of someone frightened or outraged, more like she found my behavior in poor taste, but not particularly threatening.

I stepped back, utterly baffled by their responses. "You two are something else," I muttered. "Aren’t you worried at all? Scared? Angry?"

Reginald shrugged, a slight smile playing on his lips. "One must adapt to the circumstances, wouldn’t you agree? Fear does little to change the outcome of such... encounters."

Vivienne, smoothing down her dress where I had been too familiar, gave me a look that mixed mild disapproval with a **** politeness. "It’s quite unseemly, but panicking doesn’t help either. Besides, you seem too... commonplace to be the monster we feared. I hope that doesn’t sound too harsh."

I mean... A little. But it wasn't like I was a real pirate. Maybe they just had maxed out social skills and could sense that?