Yes

“So Castillo…” It wasn’t by accident that Brenan failed to address the newcomer by his given name, “you led a boarding squadron?”

“Yes captain,” Castillo nodded, “I worked my way up from the bottom.”

“Well, if you led the boarding squadron then you ought to know to carry yourself in a fight,” Brenan glanced down at Castillo’s sword, “I take it that you don’t carry that around just because of how it looks.”

“No captain,” Castillo appeared adamant not to perceive Brenan’s remarks as being insulting, “I guess I can look after myself well enough.”

“Seen a lot of combat?”

“A bit,” Castillo replied, and Brenan didn’t know whether it was because that initial social **** was over and done with or Castillo adapting to Brenan’s taciturn behaviour, but he had begun to make his sentences shorter. Brenan didn’t know what to think of that, nor did he know what to make of Castillo showing up at such an opportune moment. It was possible that Castillo was a spy sent out by Captain “Black Bart” Simonds to keep tabs on Michaels, though the chance of him finding any need to do so wasn’t all that great, but then it needn’t be Michaels that Castillo had been sent to watch. Paranoid though he may be, Brenan was acutely aware of how small the world of prominent pirates was, and that he had accumulated enough wealth and enough of a reputation to count as being part of that world, and he and Simonds had never thought too well of each other, so when Simonds, who was a sly and dishonest bastard as well as the sort of scum who preyed on women, found out that Brenan was now a captain and looking for a crew for his ship, he might just decide to try and have one of the most loyal and steadfast of the scum that served under him infiltrate Brenan’s new crew and set to work on setting them up for an ambush in which Simonds could have his **** on Brenan for persisting in viewing him as a mean, cowardly, slaving asshole of the worst possible order. And if Castillo was a spy sent to get inside Brenan’s crew, then could simply have chosen to hang around the Powder Keg waiting for him to show up looking for a gunnery officer.

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

“Am I hired?”

Of course, the man sent to infiltrate his crew and to spy on him might as well be Michaels, who needn’t at all be as perpetually confused and decent as he made himself out to be. Or the Jones or the Caruthers brothers, the former because their friendly demeanour might hide an anger towards the world for how their heritage led them to be treated and the latter because their esteemed grandpa might just have been an utter bastard who brought his two boys up to as big a blackhearts as he was, if Brenan wanted to go around and suspect everyone of being a spy. And Castillo hadn’t been **** to mention that he used to serve as one of Simonds’ men, not if Michaels was as eccentric and oblivious to the world around him as he seemed, while a person’s interest in dressing in fancy clothes and desire to fit in socially weren’t irrefutable proof that he or she was a disloyal, backstabbing swine, no matter how much Brenan wanted that to be the case.

“Yes, you’re hired,” Brenan finally replied.