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The best part of restocking food supplies is the fantastic first few meals. The Riptide Pirates could enjoy a splendid variety in comparison to the sad dwindling rations, now feasting on vegetables, fresh meat, and bread that didn't have any weevils in it. The deck is filled with laughter and cheer as the crew enjoys themselves, clinking mugs of grog. Jay was opposed to letting Ollie have some too, but she relents after Chip assures her that his portion will be more diluted than usual. After all, the alcohol was necessary to make sure the water was safe to drink.
Of course, Gillion can simply manifest clean drinking water, but Ollie surely won't be staying with them forever. If he ever becomes a sailor on another ship, he'll have to learn how to drink and still stand up straight. Jay keeps an eye on Ollie while Chip drinks to his heart's content.
As their dinner draws to an end, the crew starts bringing their dirty dishes down to the galley. Chip returns to the main deck, only slightly buzzed now that the meal is settling. He couldn't ask for anything better than an evening like this one. He walks along to the stern of the ship, gazing at the moon and stars decorating a clear night sky. He leans on the railing and looks out at the gentle waves of the sea, light dancing as it reflects against the water. This place feels like home.
A familiar itch crawls across Chip's mind as he stands here, like he does every night. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out two small cardboard boxes. One of them rattles, being a half-empty box of matches. The other is a new pack of cigarettes.
Chip taps the pack against his hand a couple times before opening it, then brings it to his nose. The sweet, rich scent of the tobacco begs him to put a stick in his mouth. It was nothing special really, nothing like the fancy cigars being smoked back at the Paramount Tournament. But it was immensely comforting, smelling just like the way Chip remembered Drey did during his days with the Black Rose Pirates. It's a shame Drey can't use his hands anymore, because sharing a smoke now would've been the perfect opportunity to bond. The perfect chance for Chip to show how grown up he's become in the last ten years.
In a single efficient motion, Chip lights a match, cups his hand to protect the flame from the wind, and lights the cigarette. He flicks the match over the railing, then takes a long drag, breathing the smoke deep into his lungs. A wave of calm comes over him, emptying his thoughts, melting his worries away. It's almost as if he's drunk again, but in a way that makes him feel clear, not foggy. The perfect way to end the day, he thinks while taking another drag.
Just as Chip is about to finish smoking, Gillion approaches. "Hey, Chip?" he calls out. "I'm taking first watch tonight."
"Huh? Yeah, sure," Chip says. He looks at the cigarette butt in his hand, then drops it over the railing.
Gillion scrunches up his nose. Chip typically smells bad to begin with, but right now he smells particularly... burnt. Gillion didn't recognize what he was holding until he threw it into the water, realizing it was one of those stubby orange things he's seen littering the ocean. "What was that?" he asks.
"Oh, just a cigarette," Chip says nonchalantly. He takes the pack out of his pocket again and holds it out to Gillion. "Do you want one?"
"What do you do with it?" Gillion asks. He struggles a bit to take one stick out of the pack, accidentally getting a few of them wet when he touches them.
Chip regrets offering the whole thing and makes a note to take just one out for Gillion next time. He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and attempts to dry the pack, as well as Gillion's hands. "You smoke them," he explains. "I guess you can't really light anything on fire underseas."
Gillion is noticeably uncomfortable when Chip dries his hands, and starts getting confused when Chip pats his mouth dry too. But he manages to remember what he's seen other pirates doing in taverns, and puts one end of the cigarette in his mouth. Another common overseas practice to learn about, and Chip definitely isn't making this one up.
"No, the other way around," Chip says, taking it out of Gillion's mouth and flipping it around.
Gillion spits out the crumbs of tobacco that got in his mouth from the open end. It tasted incredibly bitter. Chip lights another match and holds it to the end, but struggles to get the wet cigarette lit. Gillion gets even more nervous with a flame so close to his face.
"You need to suck on it a little," Chip instructs. "Or else it won't light."
Gillion almost can't believe that people sincerely want to suck on an actual fire. But it really is just like Chip, the pyromaniac, to do this kind of thing. Gillion tries doing what Chip says and the cigarette finally manages to catch the flame. The first wisps of smoke enter Gillion's throat and he immediately starts coughing. Chip quickly catches the cigarette before it completely falls out of his mouth. Gillion thanks him and takes it back, trying again and breaking into another coughing fit. A cloud of smoke immediately puffs out right into Chip's face. His gills flutter, searching for clean water to breathe in the absence of clean air.
Chip waves the smoke away. "Not all at once, buddy. You gotta sort of, take a sip like you're drinking something, then you breathe in."
Gillion manages to say "okay" between coughs. Once he catches his breath, he raises the cigarette to his lips and tries Chip's suggestion. Take a little sip of the smoke, tasting the flavor of the (admittedly cheap) tobacco. Then a deep breath in through the nose, pulling it in. And an exhale from the mouth, now leaving only a faint cloud of smoke after absorbing most of it. The nicotine finally hits him properly, making him a little woozy and light-headed. But strangely, it feels good too, and Gillion can feel his body and mind relaxing. He braces himself against the railing, feeling like he could just sit or lay down at any second.
"Yeah, now you got it," Chip says, lightly patting Gillion on the back. He contemplates lighting up a second cigarette so they can smoke together, but once a day is enough. Maybe tomorrow.
Gillion takes another careful drag. The flavor brings him back to a particular moment: when he kissed Chip as an act of true love. He wasn't thinking about it much back then, but he remembers the way Chip's lips felt on his, and how they tasted like fire too. The cigarette starts to feel uncomfortably hot in his hand, and the taste was becoming more acrid. He feels incredibly dizzy.
Chip sees Gillion struggling to keep himself together. "I can take the first watch instead," he offers. "I'm already awake anyway, you should go get some rest."
Gillion holds the cigarette out to Chip, who takes it and puts it in his own mouth. Chip thinks to himself about this being an indirect kiss and smiles.
"Don't throw that into the sea this time," Gillion advises. "We'll get you one of those tray things."
"An ashtray," Chip says.
Holding his queasy stomach, Gillion makes his way down to the sleeping quarters. Chip finishes smoking the half-cigarette and tosses the butt overboard anyway. He spends the next couple of hours up in the crow's nest. Once it's time to change watch, he climbs down, encountering Gillion on the deck again.
"Sleep well?" Chip asks.
"I couldn't fall asleep at all," Gillion answers. "Jay noticed that I smelled like smoke. I tried drinking more water, but I can't get the taste out of my mouth."
Gillion starts coughing again. By sheer coincidence, Chip starts coughing at the same time. Normally he would've disguised it as simply clearing his throat.
Gillion starts to realize why Chip is always clearing his throat. "Why do you smoke? Doesn't it hurt?"
"Well, yeah, but," Chip says. "You gotta admit, it does feel nice. I always have a smoke at the end of the day. Doesn't feel right without it."
Gillion continues giving him a worried look. Chip scrambles for more things to say. "Being a pirate is stressful, but it's all worth it when I get to relax on my ship, looking at the sea and the stars, y'know?"
"I'm not sure it's worth it when it makes it harder for you to breathe," Gillion says, laying his hands on Chip's chest. They glow for a moment, cool and soothing against his body, then soothing his insides too. Chip takes a deep breath, deeper than he's been able to before. The crisp ocean air completely fills his chest. That little urge to cough, the roughness in the back of his throat is gone. He didn't realize until now how bad it had gotten.
"Thanks," Chip says slowly, eyes wide. Then he walks past Gillion and goes down to sleep for the night.
The next morning, Jay approaches Chip. "You're mad at me," Chip says preemptively.
"What? No, I'm not mad at you," Jay says.
"Oh, you're definitely mad at me, then," Chip responds.
"Listen, I also smoke every once in a while," she explains. "But Gillion's kind of the last person I expected to be smoking. He's a bit too wet for that, don't you think?"
"Yeah, it was definitely hard to light his cigarette," Chip adds.
Jay frowns. "I just don't want you teaching Ollie how to smoke. You already pushed it last night letting him drink, and now he has a headache."
Chip raises an eyebrow. "But he barely drank anything."
"He's just a kid," Jay says. "Don't go shoving your bad habits on him just because you want to have a mini-you. Let him be a kid."
Chip sighs. "You're right."
"What kind of cigarettes were you smoking anyway?" Jay asks. "Gillion looked like he was sick last night."
Chip takes the pack out of his pocket, absentmindedly flipping it open too. Jay closes it to look at the label. "Holy shit, these are strong!"
"Strong cigarettes for strong guys, am I right?" Chip says, flexing an arm. Though he certainly wasn't as strong as Gillion, who was currently occupied with his regular training.
Jay takes a single stick anyway. "It's the brand Drey used to smoke, isn't it?"
Chip pauses for a moment before confirming. It was a little embarrassing, admitting that he was such a wannabe pirate. But he only remembers Drey smoking occasionally, not on the daily like he currently does. "When he wakes up, can you tell him it's a gift from me?" Chip asks.
"I was just gonna keep it, but yeah, I can give it to him," Jay says.
At the end of the day, Chip finds himself standing at the stern again. The sky is more cloudy tonight, making it hard to see the stars. He's thankful they have the spyglass to navigate with, being far more reliable in different weather conditions than the traditional method. But the more he thinks about it, the more he starts to worry about their travels, so he takes the cigarettes out of his pocket. Gillion notices Chip standing there and approaches him.
"Hey, glad you could join me," Chip says, taking another stick out of the pack and handing it to Gillion. He realizes that it's only going to last him a few days if he keeps giving these out to everyone. With some quick mental math... Yeah, it should be okay to give one to Gillion every other day. He'll ask for 1 copper, no, 1 silver from anyone else who wants one.
"Are you okay?" Gillion asks, with concern in his voice. He closes his hand around the extra cigarette, accidentally making it completely soggy.
"Aw, you got it wet," Chip grumbles.
"I felt really sick after I tried smoking yesterday," Gillion continues.
Chip lights his cigarette and takes a puff before he responds. "That's just the first few times. After a while you get used to it, so it just feels good."
"So you always do this? Every day?"
Chip shrugs. "Pretty much." He looks out onto the dark sea, tapping the ash over the railing. "I mean, it's just one," he says. "I've heard of guys who smoke a lot more, even a whole pack a day! But if I had that kind of money, I'd rather start smoking cigars." Not that he's ever tried one. But in his mind, a big fat cigar looks better in the mouth of a pirate.
"What happens if you don't smoke?" Gillion asks.
Chip stares at the cigarette in his hand. The delicate glow at the end, the way the ash crumbles and falls, the wisps of smoke rising from it. There's something almost romantic about how he can fuel the burn with his breath alone, making it glow brighter as he pulls the dark, bitter aroma inside himself. Some part of himself feels satisfied too when it feels a little too hot against this throat, when the smoke makes his eyes tear up. He watches the clouds come out of his mouth and float away. His heart races a little.
"Well," Chip starts, reflecting on Gillion's question. He can't actually remember a day without his evening smoke. There was no way he could forget to do it, because he simply couldn't settle down without it. Instead, he remembers nights when he would sneak outside to smoke before bed, even crawling out windows or picking locks if he had to.
"I really need it to, to calm me down," Chip says. He clears his throat. "I don't really know what would happen if I didn't. I don't think I'd even feel normal without smoking."
Gillion is confused and honestly a little heartbroken that Chip would willingly hurt himself after being healed yesterday. He reaches out his hand again.
"No, don't," Chip says. Gillion has done this before, using his ability to neutralize poison to sober up a drunk person. He wouldn't be surprised if it cancelled out the effects of nicotine too.
Pretzel whirls around in her flask, bubbling and gesturing at Chip. Gillion nods while watching closely. "It seems like you're suffering from addiction."
"What? Like an alcoholic? No," Chip denies. Unlike a bumbling, raging mess of a drunkard, Chip feels perfectly under control. If anything, smoking makes him feel sharper. Why be tired, why be grumpy, why be anxious when he could just have a quick smoke and be back to his senses? It's in this moment of sharpness that he makes another declaration. "I could stop any time, no problem. I'm not addicted, and I'm definitely not suffering."
The god of bad luck cursed him to start coughing violently at exactly that moment. Gillion gently puts an arm around Chip and heals him anyway, clearing the poison out of his system and leaving him de-nicotined.
"Oh, fuck you, man," Chip says after he stops coughing, noticing the calm buzz in his head fade away completely. His cigarette also burnt down to the filter when he wasn't looking, so he opens his hand to let it fall into the ocean. Gillion tries and fails to catch it. Chip takes the pack and matches out of his pocket again.
"I'm worried about you," Gillion says. "I have both gills and lungs, so I can breathe water if I need to. But you only have lungs."
Chip had already taken another cigarette out of the pack. "Huh, so it doesn't matter if you keep smoking," he says, putting it in Gillion's mouth instead of his own.
As the unlit cigarette sits in his mouth, Gillion can smell the sweet, rich, almost intoxicating aroma of the tobacco. Sure, he remembers feeling nauseous the day before, but this time around he would know how to smoke it. If the headache was really only a one-time thing, this time it would just be that unnatural rush of calm he felt before. And the fact that he has a backup breathing system means he's not risking much, especially since he intends on returning to the sea anyway. He starts inhaling as Chip raises a lit match, but at the last second, he catches the glint of the flame against the platinum ring that Chip is still wearing. He swiftly commands a cup of water out of the sea to put out the fire as well as soak the cigarette in his mouth. He puts both soggy cigarettes in his pocket to throw away later.
For now, Gillion holds Chip's hand, matching rings side by side as their fingers weave together. As he chants the spell, the rings begin to glow very faintly, and Chip feels his skin getting clammy.
"This again? Seriously?" Chip says.
"I know you want to share this moment with me, but it's hurting you," Gillion explains. "I care about you."
A different sort of feeling wells up in Chip's chest. Holding hands with Gillion, being told that Gill basically loves him, it was almost too much to bear. Closing his eyes, he leans in for a kiss.
Gill pinches his lips together and leans away from Chip. He releases his hand too, but the rings continue glowing softly.
"Sorry, uh, got ahead of myself," Chip stutters. He looks down at his pack of cigarettes. He didn't get to finish the one he started, and the feeling got neutralized anyway, so he still wants another. He flips the lid open. "What happens if I smoke while we're married?"
"We're not married," Gillion clarifies. "It only lasts an hour."
The rejection feels a little bitter. "Right," Chip says. Watching Gillion's reaction, he slowly takes a cigarette out of the pack and puts it in his mouth. Gillion observes him curiously, not stopping him yet. Chip goes ahead with lighting it. It feels even smoother than usual, and he's immediately less bummed out about Gillion not wanting to kiss him again.
The rings glow a little brighter for a moment as the damage is transmitted. Gillion starts coughing when Chip takes the first drag. He doesn't feel the nicotine, but he does feel the heat and roughness in his throat.
Chip realizes what's going on. "Shit, you're taking yourself hostage! Don't fucking do this," he says. He remembers the first time Gillion used this spell, under much more dangerous circumstances, and how much more damage he suffered back then. If it weren't for this stupid spell, Gill wouldn't have gone down. Jay wouldn't have nearly killed him.
This was nothing like back then, but Chip is still terrified of losing him again. "Please," he says, less angrily. "I don't want you hurting yourself when it's my fault."
"I don't want you hurting yourself either," Gillion responds. "You said you do this every night, right?"
"Yeah, but," Chip says. He doesn't actually have anything to add to this answer.
"Then I'll bond us like this every night. I'll keep you company until the urge passes," Gillion says decisively.
Chip looks at the cigarette in his hand and the night sky above them. The clouds have started clearing up, letting the moonlight shine a bit more brightly on the two of them. He holds his hand over the railing, ready to drop the barely-smoked cigarette. This time, Gillion recognizes the motion, and grabs it with a bubble of water. A third soggy cigarette goes in his pocket.
Chip sighs, breathing in the fresh air. "Why can't you just say you love me like a normal person?"
"I do," Gillion says.
Chip contemplates handing the rest of the pack over to Gillion, but he's not ready to separate himself completely. At least not yet. So without another word, he allows Gillion to take the first watch tonight, and goes down to sleep.