Your grasp on her wrist remains. The culprit shrinks back as you stand.
"Stealing, ay?" you announce more so than ask. "Guess there's no honor amongst thieves after all."
"I was not stealing," she states indignantly as more heads turn to the commotion.
"Well that's awful strange, then what was your hand doing in my pocket?"
"Not stealing," she insists, attempting to yank away again. "Let go of me!"
Sorry kid, not yet. Not that easy, you think to yourself.
"'Not stealing,'" you repeat back. "Explain."
She pauses a moment, glancing at the unkind faces surrounding you both. Her eyes lock back with yours, and she gathers herself up with an air of defiance. You cock an eyebrow in anticipation. Nothing would have prepared you for her answer.
"It's only stealing if the things taken were rightfully yours. And you're a pirate, yeah? So it's all ill-gotten gains. It can't be stealing when you never had a fair and honest claim to it."
All listeners, yourself included, sit in a silence of shock and disbelief. It lasts only a beat though before a cacophony of caustic laughter. You can't help but join in for but a moment before cooling and leveling with her. "Listen kid," you advise lowly, "You better drop the self-righteous bullshit before it gets you in serious trouble. That sort of shit doesn't fly around here."
Suddenly there's a cry from the crowd. "That bitch stole my coin purse!"
You see a scrawny, irate woman standing from her table, pointing an damning finger towards the young thief before you. Other patrons of the tavern begin double checking themselves for their belongings. A man shouts that his wallet has gone missing, another that his pocket watch has been taken. The kid has froze like a trapped animal, eyes darting between her accusers. Even you are not sure what to do, this has turned into a worse situation than you had anticipated. It was never your intent to entirely throw her to the wolves. The riled persons approach, clamoring to rip their stolen belongings off the thief. They would tear her apart.
Before you move to defend, a commanding voice bellows from the top of the stairs. All heads turn to Captain Van Dagerman, his arms out in a calm, halting gesture. "Now, now, friends, let's not be too hasty," he speaks, "That one's with me."
Glares and murmurs follow as he saunters down the stairs, the weight of the room echoing with each step. Two of his men trail behind him. Glancing further back to the top of the stairs you see Vetica and your mates standing, observing. For but a split second you meet your captain's steady gaze before turning to the stout man now before you. "Mr. Magnus," he greets formally, "If you'd please."
You release your hold on the thief without breaking eye contact with Dagerman, the room soaking in tangible tension. He gives you a brief nod of acknowledgement before turning to address the crowd.
"Gentlemen, ladies. There seems to have been a misunderstanding. The little lass is not a thief. I merely told her to take whatever she could find on the floor. Surely we can all agree there is a difference between stealing and scavenging, hm? We'll relinquish our gatherings this once."
He turns to the girl, holding out his hand. "Kepper," he calls her.
She slides a hand into her baggy overcoat, rummaging for a moment before withdrawing a couple wallets and a coin purse, which she places in his hand. The accusers quickly snatch what you presume to be their respective belongings. "Now let's be more careful not to lose them again, shall we?" Dagerman suggests pointedly.
"And my damn watch?" the one man demands.
"With all due respect, my friend, that appears to be your own problem," he states with no respect at all.
Steady as a brick wall Dagerman stands, his men close behind. The aggravated man glances between them all, grunts, and retreats in a huff. You can tell no one is buying the captain's bullshit, but let it slide in silence, for there's little choice. The only other option is far from pretty. Dagerman turns his attention back to you. "All's well, then?" he asks.
"Seems to be," you all but sneer.
"Much obliged," he says with a small nod of his head.
With that, him, Kepper, and his men walk off to go back upstairs. You turn your head back up to Vetica, still watching from the balcony. She waves you up, and so you go, awkward as it is to be trailing behind Dagerman and his lot. Once up the stairs, they go gather in a corner to discuss while you convene with your crew. "What was all that nonsense?" Vetica inquires.
"I called out the kid for trying to pickpocket me. Got a little out of hand," you sigh.
"Just can't stay out of trouble, can you?"
"It's my oldest friend. Along with you, of course"
"Friends and curses aren't the same thing."
You smirk and raise your eyebrows at her words. She rolls her eyes at your meaning and moves on, "We did get a deal with Captain Dagerman. He agreed to give us the hit if we beat him in a card game. If we lose, it's his. Two on two, you'll be playing with me."
You frown. "Why would he ever take that bet against me? He knows my reputation."
"Hell if I know," Vetica remarks, side-eyeing the man in question. "Was his idea too. Of course it was too good a deal for us to pass up, but I imagine he must have something dirty up his sleeve. So be prepared for anything."
"Anything and everything, all of the time," you assure disingenuously.
After a moment, Dagerman and his posse approach. "We're ready whenever you are," he declares.
"Let's get on with it then," Vetica answers.
You follow your captain and crew into a private room with Dagerman and his - presumably the room where they were negotiating before. It's not a particularly large room, but everyone fits with ample space. There is a square table with one chair at each side in the center. That Kepper kid glares daggers at you as everyone approaches the table. She sits closest to the door, and you sit across from her, with Dagerman at your left and Vetica at your right. It's a fairly quiet and tense room, though you can still hear the ruckus of the lower tavern. Kepper takes out a regular deck of cards from her baggy overcoat and begins shuffling. Your eyebrows furrow, baffled that it appears this kid will be your opponent. You're unsure if you should be impressed or insulted. "What's the name of the game?" you inquire.
"Poker," the kid responds curtly.
You look to Vetica with further confusion. That's one of your strongest games. It's also not a team game by any stretch. She provides no answers in her stoic shrug. You've seen nothing but honestly and overflowing emotions from this Kepper, yet she's chosen poker.
This should be interesting.