"Ooooh~!" Usopp practically skipped over to a display. "Look at these beauties!"
Carrot bounded over after him, trying to ignore the stares she was getting from every passerby. You'd think they had never seen a mink before from how much they were gawking.
When she arrived by her half anteater mink friend (there was nothing else he could be with that nose), she saw that he was practically drooling over some firearms. She never saw the appeal of weapons like these, but she supposed that not everyone could be brave enough to face their enemies up close and personal.
"I thought that you didn't use these things, Usopp?" Carrot asked. She didn't want him to start now, either; she much preferred all his funny little gadgets and plants.
"I don't, but I can appreciate them!" Usopp confirmed with a fond smile. "When I was younger I wanted to be a gunslinger, just like my Dad; but I didn't have the money to buy one, let alone all the shot and powder for practice. The slingshot was my compromise, and then… I guess it was my destiny, because I can't imagine using anything else now."
"That's so sweet!" Carrot chirped. "Are these guns really that nice, though?"
"Look at that one!" Usopp pointed. "It has a crank on the side for repeat firing, over a hundred rounds a minute!"
"Is that very fast?" Carrot asked.
"Well, not for a quick shot with a revolver, but the difference is that ammo drum there that feeds into it as you fire," Usopp explained. "I'd love to get a hold of a few of these just to tinker with them."
"Why don't you?" Carrot tiled her head.
"I don't have that kind of…" Usopp paused. He dug around in his pockets where he stashed a pretty good chunk of change that Nami exchanged for the gold they brought. "Huh. I think this is the first time I've gone shopping since we robbed the Gran Tesoro. We're filthy stinkin' rich now, aren't we?"
"Really?" Carrot perked up. "Can you buy me some vegetables to snack on?"
"I'm pretty sure Sanji will more than take care of our food, but I don't mind," Usopp hummed. "It's not like Luffy is going to steal anything green before the meat is gone."
Now Carrot was excited!
…
"You've been in a right mood all morning, Commodore," Lieutenant Brittle commented idly.
Commodore Norrington James frowned and swiveled to look at his adjutant. "I know I told you to loosen up a little, but I am still your superior officer, Lieutenant."
"Only following orders, sir," Brittle stated in that perfectly bland tone he's had since the day he was assigned to Port Royal.
"It wasn't an order," Norrington grumbled, but he knew it was useless to quibble with Brittle. The younger man was painfully dull, and every word out of his mouth was mind numbing. He was also stubborn as a mule. "Why are you making observations on my mood, then, Lieutenant?"
"I've only seen you this annoyed without a discernable cause on two previous occasions, Commodore," Brittle spoke plainly. "Once right before a pirate escaped from the jail, and then set the jail on fire. The other before you were pushed by a pirate into a muddy ditch last month, ruining your uniform and causing you to be late for a dinner party at the Governor's manor."
Norrington grinded his teeth. Before he had to deal with the burning jail, he had planned to invite Elizabeth on a picnic to propose. Then he had been planning to propose to Elizabeth at that dinner party, but his late arrival made proposing then an utterly shameless thing to do, so he naturally hadn't done it. Fortunately, he was going to try again soon.
"What's your point?" Norrington pushed him to continue.
"Twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern. I am merely suggesting that perhaps we shouldn't wait to confirm whether you have an uncanny ability to predict pirate shenanigans with your mood swings, sir," Brittle laid out his theory.
Norrington hated superstition. Certainly, there were tales of people who could predict the future with a sixth sense, but he didn't think of himself as one of them.
Then again, did he want to risk a bunch of rotten pirates foiling his engagement plans a third time? However, he couldn't waste manpower and taxes for his own self interest, could he?
"Have those two layabouts patrol the town and report back on any strange occurrences," Norrington settled on. Murtogg and Mullroy were, in every sense of the word, idiots. It was hardly a waste of manpower to send them out to look around, and they were already a waste of taxes. It was such a brilliant compromise that Norrington could already see himself being promoted to admiral.
"Right away, sir," Brittle assented placidly, as expected.
…
"ThOsE aRe YoUr OrDeRs, GeNtLeMeN," Mullroy mocked. "As if we didn't already know. We get no respect around here."
"Keep your voice down," Murtogg begged his larger comrade in arms. "What's it matter if Brittle is on another power trip. Walking around town is hardly worse than guarding the docks. Least we get to stretch our legs, don't we?"
"I suppose you got a point there," Mullroy agreed. "Would a please and thank you every now and then be too much to ask, though?"
"I don't much care so long as I have enough money for beer at the end of the day," Murtogg said, and Mullroy grunted his agreement to the sentiment.
"Looking for pirates in the town is pretty silly, though," Murtogg scratched his neck. "Pirates'll come from the sea, won't they? What's the Commodore thinking?"
"Perhaps he suspects they've snuck in?" Mullroy offered. "If they stole a ship and didn't fly a black flag, then how would we even know?"
"You'd smell 'em," Murtogg waved his hand before his nose. They both had a laugh at that. Murtogg continued, "Seriously, though, I think I'd know a pirate when I saw one. Not used to civilized life, are they?"
"Or they'd be checking out the ships where all the trade goods come in, or just be looking to steal one for themselves. You know, like we're meant to be guarding against instead of this nonsense," Mullroy huffed.
"Excuse me?" a loud voice called out to them.
Murtogg and Mullroy spun around to look the voice's owner in the eye, then tilted their heads up until they found his eyes. An enormous figure stood before them, with arms thicker than their torsos and wild clothing that didn't fit into polite society in the slightest. Next to him stood a similarly imposing woman with rippling muscles and a look in her eye that could kill a man.
"Where can I find the shipwrights in Port Royal? We're new," the man asked. Murtogg and Mullroy only just now noticed that his vibrant blue hair was shaped like a bicorn hat.
"Oh! Just head down this street here to the west side of town," Mullroy advised with a smile.
"Really? Not very close to the docks, is it?" the man rubbed his odd double cleft chin.
"Trust me, they complain about it all the time," Murtogg shook his head. "The merchants don't want to give up their prime real estate, even if they end up paying more for the ship builder's services just hauling things farther than necessary. The ship wrights hate that they have to do it at all, or so they tell me at the pub every other night."
"Thanks, friends," the man tipped his… hair to them, then walked off with the scary woman in tow.
"Nice guy," Mullroy surmised, and Murtogg nodded. They returned to their patrol, searching for any signs of pirates or unusual happenings.