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“I saw them! Ok, I did! There was a sock on the door and I walked in and—“
“We know you’re the designated relationship man on board, but there’s no need to lie.”
Lucius was furious. The minute he ran out of Oluwande’s (and now Jim’s again, apparently) room, he had booked it to the deck and slammed his pocket contents onto the crate-turned-poker-table they had set up out there, back when they had all first met. He had been so prepared to win the bet, he had solid proof now, and he was about to win big.
Except he didn’t, because the crew didn’t believe him. Lucius had his hands on his knees, panting heavily. “No clothes! Not….not a single fabric between the two.”
The crew murmured, and Lucius’s head was pounding so hard (he was a scribe, not a runner) he couldn’t make out exactly what they said, but he knew it was something along the lines of mocking. Frenchie smirked and slapped him on the back condescendingly. “Look, we get it, we all want it to happen—“
“Except me.” Buttons looked indignant, arms crossed and all.
“Except Buttons, but you can’t cheat him out of his belongings Lucius! We need hard proof, not lies.”
Lucius was fucking seething. “Get your hand off of my back or I will fucking tear it off.”
Frenchie pulled his hand away.
“I saw them. I’m not lying. I’m not a liar.” Lucius’ eyes were crazed and he had a grimace on his face as his spoke. He did not just witness the end of Jim, dear sweet quiet Jim, and Oluwande, compassionate cool-headed Oluwande, blowing each other's brains out just to not be believed. “No, you know what, don’t believe me. But follow me before you make your clearly wrong opinion, and I will show you what I saw.”
Lucius inhaled deeply, scanned the crew, and stomped back off to Oluwande’s room, pretending to not care if anybody was following him (but if asked on how he felt about the footsteps of people behind him, he wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t not relieved).
The journey wasn’t long, and soon enough his hand was back on the doorknob, suspiciously now without a sock. “You lot are going to eat your words when you see this.”
He slammed the door open with a certain flair and pointed dramatically to the bed…that was now empty and made. Lucius furrowed his brows and looked around the room. Jim was in the sitting nook. Oluwande was all the way across the room from them. No. No no no. Fuck. FUCK.
“It’s okay to be wrong, we know how much you wanted to win.” Wee John shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”
“What’s up Lucius?” Oluwande smiled pleasantly, but that was the last thing Lucius wanted. Pleasant his ass.
Lucius took another breath to compose himself. He tightened and fixed the scarf around his neck. And then he looked calmly at Jim. “What’s on your neck there, Jim.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.
Jim shrugged. “Bruise.”
“And why , pray tell, is there a bruise on your neck .” Lucius tried to portray the image of being composed, but by marking each of his words with underlying venom, he failed miserably.
“I don’t know. You tell me.” Jim met Lucius’ venom with a challenge, staring him down. They didn’t even need to grab a dagger to be menacing. The stare was enough.
Lucius, spluttering, gestured between Jim and Oluwande, looking desperately at the portion of the crew that had followed him.
“Use your words, Lucius. ” Jim tilted their head and raised their eyebrows.
Fuck. Fine. Whatever. He didn’t even care. No, no, please. He didn’t care about this bet whatsoever and he couldn’t care less about winning. He groaned, stared at Oluwande expectantly, and groaned again when he didn’t give an answer. Lucius threw his hands in the air in exasperation and left the room, slamming the door pointedly behind him, resulting in muffled laughter from inside the room.
He glared at the crew, shoved awkwardly into the hallway. Failing to find words to communicate how absolutely pissed he was, Lucius tossed his head back and stomped back onto the deck. Fuck. Shit. God damn it. Fate worse than drowning this crew is. Fuck.