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Izzy sucked the inside of his cheek between his teeth as he worked, grinding his jaw enough to pinch, tugging the soft flesh back and forth to pull a hint of copper to the surface. He pressed his tongue against the forming drops of blood, let himself be grounded by the tang of it against his tastebuds.
Edward had been half mad for fuck knows how long; Izzy never stopped to think about it, what with having to run the fuckin’ ship and keep the crew in line. And not in that brilliant, tactical way of his, either.
That sort of mad made grown men tremble at the mere mention of his name, hoist the white flag just at the sight of his flag. That was the Blackbeard Izzy had pledged his allegiance to all those years ago; the captain he’d sworn to follow right into the mouth of hell itself. That was the man who had seen the rage bubbling just beneath the surface of Izzy’s skin, given it direction—a purpose—in the heat of battle. And, when necessary, exquisite release in the rare freedom of complete submission.
No, the calculated madness of the great and fearsome Blackbeard hadn’t so much as sparked in Edward’s eyes for well over a year. The glint had dulled, the razor-sharp edges of his captain’s mind blunted like a child’s toy. Like something that poncey gentleman playing pretend might carry instead of a proper fuckin’ weapon.
Stupid fuckin’ pretend pirate Stede Bonnet.
“Are you almost done, Iz?”
Izzy gave the bloodied inside of his cheek one last, quick bite as he finished the last of the stupid little bows, then stepped back.
“Aye.” He took a step back, pulling his glove back on as he very much deliberately avoided looking up at Edward in that get-up. It was bad enough seeing the stupid little ribbons up close; no need to see the ridiculous full picture.
“Will there be anything else,” he paused, swallowing down a wave of bile before he snarled, “Captain?”
But he needn’t have bothered. Edward might as well have been on the moon now, what with his face gone all soft and gooey. Izzy didn’t even need to turn to know that Bonnet was back on deck.
He shouldered past his captain as he walked away, and the bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to get angry about it. Time was, he’d have pinned Izzy’s neck beneath his boot for that, had him clean it with his tongue for his insolence.
Fuck this whole fuckin’ ship.
Izzy grabbed a bottle of rum from the hands of…one of them, he couldn’t be arsed to remember fuckin’ names of this ridiculous excuse for a crew, and stormed below deck.
Because this? Whatever the fuck was going on between Blackbeard and that twat? Drinking himself stupid in the solitude of his own quarters beat the shit out of dealing with it.