gossip 'round the marketplace...

for circe_tigana's 882 Ways to Appease the Heathen Gods challenge

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The pirate, and I'd no doubt he was a pirate what with the scars and the sword and the monkey and the hat, eyed my apples. Wha—stop it! The ones in the cart!

Well. Those, too.

Anyroad, he'd flicked a coin at me, of gold rather, and took the whole bushel. I'd gotten the better end of it, I'd say, and changed it off right quick, into silvers and coppers. Used part of it t'get Gillette here his commission; he'll do us proud under Captain Norrington, I'm sure.

Oh, have you heard about the money changer's murder? Odd, that.

...the customer is always...

and yet another one for circe_tigana's 882 Ways to Appease the Heathen Gods challenge

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These pirates were like empty pits, and their screams for food and ale approached something like desperation. The tavern owner thought it hard to remember any other time when he'd seen faces so hungry.

He's no stranger to starvation; but in these men it was sharper than that of the cripple, and more merciless than that of street children.

He grips the coin worriedly; the pirates are leaving his tavern, eyes wild and unsatisfied. He rubs his thumb over the gold surface, could almost sense his blood on the coin, and he can't seem to wipe the promise from it.