On the right-side of the trio, a man was seated, not overly far from them. Not too far to throw a knife or bottle straight at them, that's for sure. Fortunately, that was just hypothetical; The man smirked at his aggressive, and truthfully quite suicidal, train of thought...He really should have just stuck to light ale instead of that damned strong swill pretending to be rum. Letting out a soft rumble from his throat, without any meaning other than to get the damn phlem stuck in his throat cleared out, he spat next to him on the hardwood floor. One hand grasping the bottleneck casually, keeping it in place as it rested on the man's knee, another hand dangling off the back of the bench, he couldn't be in a more casual and defenseless position really. Apart from the near-by wall behind him, there wasn't much protecting him, was The Guardian to misinterpret the audible spitting as an insult. To add injury to that insult, the man's eyes were drilling into said Guardian, there was little to misinterpret at this point in time, if only she was to turn her face to look at the origin of the sound. Why was it this man was so suicidal passive-aggressive, picking a fight he had, beyond any doubt, no hopes of winning?!
Was he that drunk? That stupid? That brave? Nah, he was just that smart...Cough.
He had been there, quietly, drinking for quite a while now and sure, yes, he was drunk..stupid...brave...But none of those factors mattered, he had just seen that the drunken fool, who had dared to publicly taunt and even engage in combat with one of the Pirate Lords, hadn't arrived at the pub alone. Something that the other patrons must have escaped, or perhaps the ones that did notice, saw no reason to alert the Guardian of such a thing. Hoping for a grand spectacle where the young'un of the Pirate Lord would get shanked in the throat from behind, Scalvorians were weird like that. As the blurred gaze of his eyes scanned the filthy bar, mainly because of people doing as they see fit..Like spitting on the floor...Those bastards!! Most of the faces and eyes in the bar were turned to stare right back at the next fool to taunt the Guardian, he figured the Guardian and her entourage near-by must be looking at him too, good, makes it all the easier to snuff out that skulking rat. He remembers that talking meatloaf who got cut up real nice, was talking to a shorter-than-average man, but he can't remember his face for the life of him---Goddamned matchsti---That was it, he had red hair! Flaming red hair like a lit matchstick, where the fuck was that vermin?!
That's when he saw him, clear as day and not surprisingly, his eyes weren't focused on the man at all, they were trying to call down lightning straight on the Guardian, rage filled, wet eyes...Must have been a close buddy of Meatloaf Man; the taunting man's eyes didn't break away from Matckstick Boy, especially not once he started moving, with one hand digging around the inside of his vest, he doubted the avenging sidekick was about to whip out a cupcake. Throwing table and bottle aside in a sudden outburst of energy, the man shouted "Watch out!" As he dived right on top of the avenger, the two rolled on the nasty-as-fuck wooden floor, insults and limbs flying everywhere, until they came to a halt. Embarrassing at it may be, without his cutlass, Matchstick Boy was tougher and living a longer life than the heroic man, cough, had initially hoped for.
The copperhead was laying on top of the man, pushing down with all the force his soulless body could muster. Oh, right, he had a knife aimed right at the man's heart to boot, he wasn't exactly aiming for an eskimo kiss or whatever the hell it looked like to the oh-so courageously brave and assisting patrons of this latrine-smelling establishment. "Don't mind me, no no, I CLEARLY GOTS THIS!" Heaving and breathing heavily, the man was less than an inch away from getting his heart pierced when he kneed Matchstick Boy with all his ferocious might, right in the coinpurse...His only weakness!...And with a 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmpppfffhhhh' from between closed lips, Matchstick Boy was vanquished!
Laying, on the stickiest non-candyshop floor he had ever laid sprawled out on, he looked at the trio near the bar, wink-pointed at them and with a huge grin said "You're welcome!" Right before he grabbed hold of the knife and plunged it to the hilt through Matchstick Boy's jugular.
