Drake, looking around the tavern inside the warehouse, swallowed heavily. He did now know what to think. This land that he was in, this captain’s town, was completely foreign to him. This was not his place of origin, and he did not belong here, so he had to tread lightly. The half angel walked up to the bar and sat down two seats away from the captain. The bartender walked over to where Drake was, but he was not paying attention. The half angel blankly stated off into space as he wondered what exactly he would say to the captain. Scenario after scenario, the half angel contemplated how he would start the conversation before he was snapped out of his trance by an angry bartender's clearing his throat.

"Well," he stated gruffly, "Are you going to buy something, or are you just going to take up space at my bar?"

"Oh, yes," Drake said as he began to panic on the inside. He fumbled urgently in his pocket until he found what few marks he did have left from his journey here and placed them on the countertop. "I'll have a Raiaeran Winter. Virgin, please."

The bartender looked taken aback at Drake's request before scoffing in disgust; however, he took the half angel's money and turned away, shaking his head, to get to work. Mustering up the courage to say something, Drake took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.


“What do you want from me, kid?” The captain asked in an impatient tone. “I don’t have time for stupid stuff right now.”

Drake turned to face the man who was sipping from a mug. Every aspect of his being appeared simply tired, and done with the world. He was a very young looking man, and he boasted, short jet black hair with a very short beard, and a handsome complexion. Drake couldn’t help but to notice how young this man was, and wonder how he fell into the profession of being a captain.

“Um, how do you kno-“

“You walk into this bar being led by the infamous Captain Banks who is known for his cons and his debts. Then you just happen to sit near me, and order a non-alcoholic drink. Clearly you are not from around here, and there are only two other men in this entire room who you could want to talk to- and you didn’t sit next to them. Obviously, you want something from me, kid, so what do you want?” The man asked.


Drake observed the man for a few moments. He had turned his head to face the half angel, who had turned completely on his stool to face him. In that moment, the angel stared into the man’s emerald green eyes, and saw that his soul was troubled; he saw that this man was much more than met the eye. In his eighteen years, as Drake found in all of these cases, when somebody tried to appear bigger than they are, or knowing more than they actually do, it was a defense mechanism. What was this man’s story?