England's Bad Day [England/Finland]

[Arthur Kirkland]

Captain England felt considerably disappointed. There was nothing less entertaining than a victory that required no effort. He had been looking forward to working towards conquest of the merchant vessel that they were currently anchored with, yet before he’d even given the order to launch the first attack, the other ship had sent the white flag sailing high atop its mast. Either his ship was becoming known among the merchant circuit by sight, or else the piracy market was starting to grow stale. It was the third automatic surrender this week! Granted, they’d all been French-manned airships, yet even the lazy bastards could sometimes manage to fire a shot from a cannon before they dropped their colours and ran the white.

A boring victory was as unsatisfying as a defeat – not that he’d suffered the slight from many of those. With a long-suffering sigh, the Englishman fished his pocket watch out of his waistcoat pocket to check the time. Ten minutes. If things kept up this way then even piracy was soon going to lose its thrill. He snapped the watch shut with a grumpy huff and tucked the device away as he trudged out from behind his broad wooden desk at a prowling gait to better examine the crew that had been shuffled into his cabin without resistance. “Right.”

“You have been captured by the Queen’s Ransom. Your vessel, your crew and your goods are now at the mercy of my benevolence. If you put up any resistance, I shall be forced to act accordingly.” Pausing, he looked at the French crew with mildly hopeful expectance. “Any resistance at all? No?” Cheeks puffing, he dragged out a long breath as he exhaled it. “Smashing. Off you go. We’ll be searching your ship for valuables, just in case you decide to act up at all.” England waved them off dismissively, mouth twisting into a frown of mild disgust as he slumped down into a slouch on the front of his desk, arms folding across his chest as his crewmembers filed the captives back out of the cabin.

England was still sulking when his First Mate Roberts entered, noting the captain’s mood as the man gave him a crisp, respectful half-bow. “Captain. We’ve nearly completed bringing over their goods. The crew has been cooperative, so I anticipate that we’ll be finished and ready to fly again in the next twenty minutes.” Blinking as he saw the Englishman’s mouth tug down even further in the corners, Roberts clasped his hands behind his back before testing the waters of managing his Captain’s temper. “Sir? You seem bothered. Might I inquire as to what is troubling you today?”

“Mmm…” Letting out a noncommittal noise, petulant in his displeasure, England settled for scowling in the direction of his First Mate, perhaps showing his youth more than he normally would have but far too unhappy to care. “Am I losing my touch, Roberts? How can I be sure that I’m still striking fear into the hearts of others when they give in before I can work up to being properly threatening?” Unfolding his arms to toss them skyward, the grouchy Englishman gestured empathically towards nothing in particular. “I haven’t even had an excuse to draw my pistol! A pirate isn’t piratical unless he’s got a pistol in his hand still hot from the last fired shot.”

Roberts shifted his eyes aside as he voiced a tentative suggestion in an attempt to encourage the captain. “If this is all about not being able to fire your gun, Captain, why don’t you step outside and take a crack at their sails? Leave your lasting mark for them to view and think about, sir.”

The idea took hold in England’s head as he perked up. His frown shifted into a slow smirk, nodding as he warmed up to the suggestion. “You’re right. That sounds like a fantastic idea, Roberts. I think I shall do that very thing.”

---

Five minutes later, England was even more miserable and staring at the steam pouring out of his pistol in a steady hiss of rushing air. No hole in the other ship’s sails. No echoing cracks rippling through the air. Just the evidence of his gun malfunctioning once again at a point where he wanted desperately to use it – right in front of the captives. His dramatic display foiled by an unlucky twist of fate, England glared intensely over the side of his ship while he thrust the gun out towards the chest of Roberts standing nearby.

“Roberts. You’re fired. Again.”

His First Mate nodded blandly. “Very good, Sir. Shall I make an appointment for your gun to get repaired while I am packing my belongings?”

[Arthur Kirkland]

The carriage lumbered along through the downtown district of Londinium, sputtering dirt from the cobblestones in a steady cloud behind it as the transport came rolling to a stop in front of its usual destination in front of England’s teahouse. As soon as the horse was brought to a standstill, the creature’s hooves clomped restlessly as pedestrians went passing by the creature. Swinging the door open on its hinge, England came stepping down onto the street with a sweeping look around the area. He gripped the lapels of his coat to straighten how it was settled on his body, gloved fingers then straightening his top hat from where it had slid to an angle thanks to the choppy quality of his hair.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, England turned to tap the driver’s station with the tip of his walking stick while his valet stepped out behind the Englishman, Roberts wordlessly closing and securing the door behind them while carrying the large black case that had the Englishman’s broken pistol inside it. “I anticipate that we shall be finished with our business here in two hours. Please return with the carriage by that time.”

England stood back to let the carriage go, watching it leave as he gripped his hat and stepped aside to avoid the rest of the traffic that went galloping through. Once he had reached the safety of the pavement, the Englishman twisted to address his valet by his public name. “Now, Bartholomew, I….” England blinked, trailing his words off as he took a second look at the other man who was his constant shadow. He coughed and made a gesture towards his left eye as a silent indication to the other man.

Roberts reached up as prompted, only to find that he was still wearing his First Mate’s eye patch. The man coloured in embarrassment and quickly pulled it off over his head to tuck away inside his breast pocket. “Sorry, sir. I get so used to it being there that it slips my mind.” Drawing himself up more formally, Roberts clasped his white-gloved hands behind him. “You have an appointment with the Finnish gunsmith in around thirty minutes. If it pleases you, sir, I’ll make certain that the staff prepares your Afternoon Tea service. Will you be taking tea alone today?”

“I anticipate no company.” England informed him as he headed towards the door of the teahouse, tugging the snug leather of gloves off his fingers as he prepared to enter. He waited expectantly as Roberts pulled the door open for him, as the Englishman removed his top hat to tuck his gloves into it since they were going to be settled there for a while. “And I shall handle my own arrangements for tea. Please go on ahead to check that Mister Finland will be prepared for our arrival. Something about the city feels anxious today; I do not want to dally for longer than necessary.” Catching Roberts’ eye for a significant look, England darted another glance around at the city streets outside, before walking off to greet his staff members, smiling as they greeted ‘Mister Kirkland’ for yet another day of the usual routine.

[Tino Väinämöinen]

The day had started surprisingly well.

Tino had woken up around seven in the morning when someone from next door had decided it was good time to start hammering the wall right next to his ear. At least that was what it had sounded like. However, for once it had been quiet during the night; none of the more than common arguing, child's crying or that particular kind of noise he'd rather not hear, so he'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep and thus didn't feel like committing some heinous act of violence on his neighbour like he normally would have. He had been a bit grumpy, yes, but it had been nothing a cup or two of strong black coffee couldn't fix.

If there had been any shreds of bad mood left after he'd finished his breakfast, they had been washed away the moment he entered his workshop downstairs and was hit by the familiar smell of wood and gunpowder. Tino loved this smell; it was strong but still somehow soothing, so different from the usual stink of the town that made his eyes water and chest sting. It smelled like home.

He'd taken his seat across the room in front of the window giving to the back alley -it didn't offer much daylight but it was better than those crappy electric lights and besides, there wasn't much helping it- and picked up his new project from yesterday. From then on the day had kept going on its usual routine: spend the first couple hours in the back working, go grab early lunch, open the shop, run between the front and the workshop whenever customers arrive... Someone might have said his life was boring, but for Tino it was everything but. He was rather happy with what he'd accomplished; he had a house and a practice of his own and he spent his days doing what he did and loved best. Though, the small voice in his head nagged at him, he couldn't really take all credit for that. Without a certain British gentleman he would probably still be sleeping in his ex-master's corners.

---

It was well into the afternoon when Tino finally laid the small musket onto the table, leaning back on his chair and stretching out his back, letting out a satisfied sigh as it popped quietly. He'd done some good progress today, so he stood up and headed out the front, intending to go upstairs and brew himself some well-earned coffee. He didn't make it further than the third step though, before there was a firm knock on the door. Tino craned his neck to look out of the window, wondering idly why the person didn't come just come inside. The shop was open, after all.
He hopped down from the stairs and went to answer the door, looking questioningly at the boy standing on his doorstep. Tino noted bitterly that the boy was quite taller than him despite the fact that he couldn't have been older than sixteen. Maybe it was because of that that his tone was just slightly cooler when he answered to the boy's inquiry about his identity. ”Yes, I'm Tino Väinämöinen. What is it?” In response the boy handed him a small folded note which Tino took quickly, waving his hand absent-mindedly as he began to read the few lines within. ”Thank you. You can go now.” The boy nodded and started down the street, leaving the gunsmith to his message.

Tino stepped back inside, eyes still fixed on the note. It was from Roberts; apparently him and Mister Kirkland would be arriving at his shop in less than an hour. Well speak of the devil, he thought. Just when I was thinking of the Master... He neatly folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket before resuming his interrupted task of going upstairs and getting himself a nice hot cup of coffee. He felt rather excited, his landlord hadn't visited in a while so Tino wasn't very aware of he had recently been up to. If he was on a good mood, Tino might be able to squeeze out a juicy story or two out of the older man. And maybe even a sell him some fine new firearms as he was at it.

Maybe it'd be a good idea to make coffee for his guests, too. Just in case.


[Lalaa I finally got it done I figured I'd stop here but if you want me to extend it just nom on my head on the cbox <3]

[Arthur Kirkland]

The path to Finland’s shoppe was a familiar one. Arthur could have walked the distance from his teahouse to the man’s establishment yet propriety dictated that he take the carriage to avoid something as ungainly as working up a sweat. While getting sweaty in his pirate clothes was an unavoidable event at times considering how active he was on the ship, Londinium dealings required Arthur to be on his best behaviour. So the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the place. The Englishman stepped out of it without waiting for Roberts, since the valet was busy giving instructions to their driver.

It wasn’t that Arthur looked forward to his interactions with Finland. The man had a way of prattling on and on about the most pointless things with a silly, vacant look on his face. What Arthur did like about speaking with the other man is that it was easier for him to relax, to let go of the tense way he held himself amongst people who were unaware of his true identity, without having to worry about slipping up. Since Tino knew him for what he was – who he was – it was nice not to have that added distraction weighing on his shoulders.

Arthur realized that it had been a few weeks since he had visited with Finland. The last few occasions had been solely piratical matters, a quick stop to see what new things the gunsmith had to offer. But if Tino didn’t mind his pirate attire then showing up dressed as a proper gentleman wasn’t going to ruffle the gunsmith any worse. As the carriage pulled away, leaving Arthur and Roberts standing outside of the shoppe, Arthur lifted his cane and drummed it against the door as he waited for Finland to answer.

[That’s right. England is the ‘master’. <3]

[Tino Väinämöinen]

Once he had the coffee brewing on the stove, Tino made a quick trip back downstairs to get everything as ready as possible for his landlord's visit. If he knew one thing about the man, it was that he didn't like waiting. Roberts had mentioned in the message that one of Mr. Kirkland's guns needed fixing but hadn't provided any further details, so Tino just gathered some of his basic equipment he thought he'd most likely need. He skittered around the workshop for a while, searching for one tool after another and making a mental note to clean the place soon. He always made sure the front was in top condition; nice and clean and organized. The working space, however, was a completely different case.

After a furious hunt for his magnifying glasses that took way longer than he would've liked, Tino rushed back to his apartment where the coffee pot was already happily whistling away. He removed it from the stove before reaching into the cupboard for some of his finer cups, rinsing them quickly to get off the dust and cobwebs. He idly wondered if he should have visitors come over more often.

If his old clock was on time Tino had about ten minutes before his customer's arrival so he poured himself a cupful and sat down at his small table, sipping the hot drink carefully. He'd hardly made it halfway of the mug, however, when a distant knocking sound echoed from downstairs and made him practically jump from his seat. They were a bit early but knowing his landlord, he should've been expecting that.

Tino quickly gulped down the rest of his coffee, wincing quietly as it burned his tongue, and rushed into the staircase. He hopped the stairs down two steps at a time at a speed that rivaled that of a running hare – only to trip over the rubbish bin next to the counter at the bottom. Blushing madly, he straightened himself and turned the bin upright before walking to the door, using the precious few seconds before opening the door to run his hand through his hair in attempt to make himself look presentable.

”Mister Kirkland!” He greeted the gentleman with his wide, trademark smile. ”I was waiting for you, please come inside.” Tino stepped out of the doorway with a slight bow, letting for the other man and his companion in before closing the door behind them. ”It's been a while since your last visit. What can I do for you today? Or would you like some coffee first? I just some just a minute ago, it's still hot. Though I'm afraid I don't have anything to go with it...” Tino beamed up at his guests, happily unaware of his own babbling.

[I bet that 'Master' will love dealing with his slightly ADHD slave gunsmith~]

[Arthur Kirkland]

“Roberts may want some coffee. I am personally not a fan of the beverage.” Arthur managed to bite back a grimace at the thought of drinking something as foul as coffee. Since he’d just finished a few cups of tea back at his teahouse, he was fortunately satisfied for the time being. “Cheers, though, for your kind offer.”

The Englishman was occupied with searching around the shoppe. Since it had been some time since he had been inside the place, he was curious to see what changes might have occurred in his time away. It was good to see that there was no heavy structural damage, no obvious charred patches of wall. The smell of chemicals, gunpowder and other metallic elements heavily permeated the building yet this was a scent that Arthur rather enjoyed. His only finding that made him frown disapprovingly was the sheer amount of mess that greeted his eyes; though considering how absentminded Finland sometimes behaved, this came as no surprise.

“We’re in need of your services, Tino.” Snapping his fingers, Roberts brought the case forward near where Finland was standing. Arthur was frowning as his valet opened it up to reveal the broken gun inside. Folding his walking stick up in his arms as he gave the weapon a menacing glare that was far from gentlemanly, Arthur growled out his words. “It decided to give up the ghost right in the middle of a rather important moment. Though I suppose that’s what I get for buying cheap imports. Do you think you can do anything with it? If it’s beyond hope then I am prepared to give it over for spare parts. What do you make of it Tino?”

Becoming aware after a minute of Roberts standing there staring at him expectantly, the Englishman shifted around and huffed out a breath. “Yes, yes. Go fetch yourself some coffee if you’d like. Just don’t try to tidy up his home again, for goodness sake. Or else we’ll be here for hours.”

[Tino Väinämöinen]

Tino pouted when his offer was turned down, which luckily went unnoticed by his landlord who was busy looking around the shop. Mr. Kirkland had never tasted his coffee. Tino was willing to bet if the man were to ever try it, he would realize how wonderful a drink it was. Though it was not the rejection Tino felt bitter about as much as the fact that his guest would most likely not stay long enough for a good talk. It wasn't in his nature to pry into other people's lives, but damn if he still wasn't curious.

"Oh, it's nothing."Tino said, returning the smile to his face despite the disappointment. It had been ages since their last meeting, and he didn't want to ruin it by acting like a child and sulking over such a trivial thing. He stood next to the counter, swaying quietly on his feet as he waited for Arthur to finish his inspection. It seemed his landlord was the same as always; nothing had changed since his last visit except the clothing. When his customer finally deemed it time to get to business, it was with a rather angry look on his face. Someone might have said you could see the pirate peeking through his eyes, but not Tino. For him there was not 'England the pirate' and 'Mr. Kirkland the businessman'; Arthur was Arthur and it was as simple as that.

"I'll do my best." He assured, turning to Roberts and gave him a look asking for permission before gently lifting the gun from the case, his mind beginning its evaluation right away. It had a smooth and beautiful design, but that was all there was to it. Tino could immediately tell it was of fairly poor quality; not complete rubbish, but nothing that would last long in a frequent use either. "Hmm, lets see..." He muttered as he started pulling and pushing on different parts thoughtfully, trying to see if there was some obvious problem.

Tino lifted his eyes from the gun when Mr. Kirkland spoke again, though this time the words were not meant to him. "Ah, sorry! I should've brought it downstairs!" He could feel his ears turning red in embarrassment at his failure at being a good host, the flush deepening even more at the implication of the messiness of his home. Surely it wasn't that bad? "Uh, the coffee is on the table next to the stove, everything should be ready..." He said quietly, though he was sure that Roberts would have no problems by himself, he had been up in his room before and the place wasn't exactly big enough to need more than two looks to have everything there covered. Still, if he hadn't had Mr. Kirkland as his priority, he would've much preferred to accompany the man.

Tino returned his attention back to the the gun, turning it in his hands for a few more minutes without finding anything seemingly wrong with it. "The trigger seems to be fine..." He mumbled more to himself than Arthur. "I wonder if it's the—Ah!" He let out a small noise of realization and bent under the counter to dig out his magnifying glasses, placing them on the bridge of his nose before bringing the gun closer to his face to take a better look. "There's a crack in the steam chamber." He said after a while, turning his head to look at his landlord. "A small one but it's enough to prevent the pressure needed to fire building up." Tino tapped at the metal lightly with his finger; judging from the sound it was fairly thin. It was no wonder it had given in under the strain. "This is actually pretty common with steam-powered guns. I could replace it with a sturdier one but..." Truth was, he wasn't exactly keen on doing it. Tino saw no sense in putting money and working hours in something of this quality; even if he fixed it, it was more than likely that some other part would break down sooner or later.


[lololol suckageee I'm sorry orz OTL]

[Arthur Kirkland]

“If the gun is so shoddy that the most vital part of it would break so easily, then I think we can both surmise without you explaining that it is a poor-quality weapon.” Arthur murmured in response as Tino trailed off from his assessment of the gun. The Englishman did not seem surprised by the Finnish man’s report; he’d suspected as much already. Though it was a lesson that he needed to remember for future reference when considering buying a gun from some less trustworthy source.

Spotting a stool nearby, Arthur took hold of it and dragged it over closer to Tino’s workbench so that he could at least survey the man working so skillfully at his craft. Though he would never outright admit it except in grudging praise, the Finnish chap was exceptional at his work, and the results showed. Arthur had yet to be disappointed in the guns that Tino produced for him. Acknowledging that skill had been partly what had allowed the Englishman to gain respect for his tenant on a level other than the other shop owners who resided in his buildings.

He often reminded himself, when Tino became especially absorbed in his waffling about inane subjects, that the man from Finland was worth sitting still and listening. And positively not allowed to be shot. The talent would be wasted.

Arthur drew out a handkerchief since Roberts had vanished upstairs and used it to dust off the surface of the stool. Once he was confident that it was cleared of anything that might adhere to his trousers, Arthur sat down on the chair. He balled the soiled fabric up, tucking it into his pocket for the time being so that he could settle his eyes on where Tino was at work. “I should have known better than to purchase it. The design was one that I had admired; yet the price was far too good. I don’t suppose you have anything similar or perhaps better that I might be able to purchase off your hands, Tino? Of course I would be willing to pay a substantial amount of coin for the guarantee of quality your goods provide.”

A hand lowered down as Arthur rested it on a free spot a short distance from where Tino continued his examination. He drummed his fingers as a scowl returned to his face. That earlier irritation with the lack of excitement and his inability to fire that weapon had come surfacing back. It was powerful enough that he felt safe to utter in front of his current company, “I just want to shoot someone. That’s not such a large thing to ask, is it?”

[Tino Väinämöinen]

Tino smiled apologetically at the Englishman. Even though he knew it wasn't his fault the gun had broken down, Arthur did not seem too happy about it and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about telling the man the bad news and adding to his sour mood. "These things happen, even to the best of us." He tried. However, knowing Arthur, it probably wasn't much of a consolation.

Tino picked up the gun again to give it another look and make sure he hadn't missed anything even though he was fairly sure he hadn't. There was nothing else wrong with it apart from the crack, at least if you didn't count the overall lousy craftsmanship. But he did note something else; there was one part that seemed to be of better quality. The stock was in excellent condition, the ornate carvings still clear and unmarred and the dark wood smooth and pleasant to the touch. Tino ran his thumb over the handle thoughtfully, the woodwork was far too good compared to the rest of the gun. The person who'd put the weapon together had probably either purchased it from a professional or, more likely, detached it from a dysfunctional gun of better quality. Whatever the case, Tino's fingers were already aching to take the thing apart and make the stock part of a gun worthy of its beautiful design.

But that would have to wait a while. He kept studying the gun as Arthur came to sit next to him. A gentle tug on the barrel told him it would at least come off fairly easily. "It's a beautiful weapon." Tino agreed."I could make you a new one if you'd like? I'm pretty sure I could reuse the stock from this one..."It would take time, though, and his landlord probably wouldn't be very fond of the idea of going a few weeks without a weapon. "But I actually just finished something a few days ago that might interest you, too. In case you need a new one urgently." Tino glanced up at the older man, a questioning look raising to his face when he saw the other's clearly displeased expression. Had he said something wrong? He opened his mouth to ask about it but the question died in his throat and turned into a nervous laugh when his landlord decided to voice his thoughts at that moment.

"Ahahaha... I guess that depends on the person you're asking." Tino said hesitantly, not quite sure what kind of answer Arthur had been expecting. A bit at loss with words, he laid the gun gently on the counter and stood up from his seat, walking to one of the glass cabinets and staring thoughtfully at the goods on display. "Most people value their lives quite high." He finally continued after a while as he opened the cabinet door and started picking up some of the smaller guns into his arms. Once satisfied with his choices, he turned back to his landlord, giving the man a long look. Tino couldn't claim he knew Arthur that well, but he was fairly sure there was something more to his bad mood. And while he usually preferred not to pry into other people's lives, especially those as guarded as Arthur, he couldn't help his well-meaning nature taking over. "If you don't mind me asking, what brought this on?" Tino asked, the friendliest smile he managed on his lips. "A bad day?"

[Arthur Kirkland]

“A bad day and then some.” Arthur complained bitterly, still holding onto those grudging feelings that had been plaguing him all day. While Tino’s reassurances and patient nature took the edge most of the harshness of the feeling, the Englishman could not lift himself above this black mood. “I’m finding my secondary career to be rather unsatisfying lately. If I can’t find excitement in the…” He trailed off, glancing around again with some paranoia, “…the cutthroat business, then what options are left for me, really?”

Shifting further upright, his figure leant forward so that Arthur could better view the stock the gun in Tino’s hands. He noticed the fascination that the Finnish man had with the engravings on the wood, nodding his head towards it. “I would like to keep it – at least the stock. That’s the precise reason why I purchased it to begin with. The stock alone is worth the price I paid. If you think the rest of it is worthless then you can pitch the rest into the rubbish. Or melt it down; whatever strikes your fancy. In the meantime, I’ll happily take this new project of yours out of your hands. You know I never pass up anything that you’ve made – especially if you are recommending it.”

Arthur then shifted the topic back to their previous discussion on the subject of his boredom. The broken gun aside, this was really what was bothering him the most. It made every misfortune that had happened to the Englishman today feel like some sort of karmic slap in the face. Or at the very least the work of some sort of vengeful deity that had it out for him. Then again, Arthur had been on an especially good streak of luck. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out, and had decided to do so enormously.

He studied Tino’s face more intently, focused on the man rather than the weapon in his hands. “What do you do to keep from growing bored with your profession? I think working in some singular trade must get stale after a few years, regardless of how passionate a person is about their work. How do you keep things interesting for yourself, Tino?”

[Tino Väinämöinen]

Tino knitted his brows as he listened, nodding once to indicate he understood what his landlord meant. If that's how things were, it was no wonder the Englishman wasn't in the best of moods. Arthur had always seemed to take great enjoyment in his pirate affairs, so the situation must've been immensely frustrating for him. Tino briefly wondered what he would do if he found himself in similar position. He'd be in a bad mood, too. No doubt.

Maybe Arthur was just stressed out. Even now, with just the two of them in the shop, he was shifting on his seat as if he was worried someone might hear their conversation. Tino knew he himself was the type to worry about things a lot, sometimes a bit too much, but he couldn't even hope to fathom what it would feel like to have to stay on your toes every single minute of your life, to know that one mistake could be enough to send you to jail or, in the worst case, to the end of a hangman's noose.

It could've been just his imagination, but Arthur suddenly seemed a lot wearier. And though he knew the man had chosen this way of life for himself, Tino couldn't help feeling compassionate.

Finally returning to his spot behind the counter, the Finn set the goods he was carrying on the dark wood. "You flatter me." He said slightly absentmindedly, his thoughts still in his landlord more than business. "But I'm glad if I'm meeting your expectations." He stared at the broken gun on the desk. He'd be sure to take the stock's worth out of the price if Arthur bought something. That would only be fair.

But first, he wanted to help the older man. He wanted to say something. Tino had decided to ask about it, and Arthur had decided to open up to him. It would've felt weird to just keep talking about business and ignore the earlier topic. But the Finn was a little clueless about how to approach the subject again.
Luckily, Arthur took it upon himself to take care of that, though the sudden question took the gunsmith a little by surprise. "Me?" He asked and brought his hand up to scratch at his nose thoughtfully. What did he do? Well yes, he had his hobbies but he doubted his landlord would find any of those very helpful. "I... I take time to relax every now and then." He finally said. "I guess it's that, mostly. After I close the shop I kind of seal everything work-related away. Grab a good book and forget about everything else. Or then I work on my own projects. For some reason they don't feel like work to me, though I guess there's not really a difference." He shrugged. It probably made no sense to Arthur. "When things get really bad I go hunting. That's a real lifesaver for me. A few days out of the city and I feel like a new person again." Tino let out a short, slightly bitter laugh. Talking about this was making him crave back into wilderness again. "Unfortunately the train tickets are pretty expensive so I only go once a year or so. But I'm happy to have that, at least."

He stopped after that, a little embarrassed by his monologue. Arthur was the one whose problems they were solving here, after all. Pushing the forgotten guns aside, Tino laid his hands on the counter and leaned closer to the man sitting on the other side. "Mister Kirkland," he started again, his voice again taking on that slightly hesitant and careful tone he so often used when he felt he was saying something he wasn't necessarily in the position to say. "Don't you think you should try taking a break? A change of scene might be good for you as well." Tino was sure a week or two somewhere where Arthur could relax in peace without worries of keeping up his facade at all times would do the man nothing but good.

[Arthur Kirkland]

“Take a break?” Arthur echoed the words like they were some foreign language he didn’t understand. He blinked at Tino a few times in confusion while still processing all of the things the gunsmith had already told him about ways to seek out relaxation. The Englishman had just been thinking about the last time he’d gun hunting when Tino sprang that question on him. “I… don’t think that I could take a break.”

There was the sound of movement on the stairs as Roberts came quietly back down to join them. The man had a steaming mug in his hands, warming them on the outside of the porcelain as he rejoined his employer and Finland. Roberts seemed interested in hearing Arthur’s response to the topic, the open expression on his face curious as he came to stand near at hand in case either of the men had some further request for him. Arthur acknowledged his loyal valet with a glance before turning his attention back to Tino.

“Piracy, as well as business, is an incredibly competitive market. If I don’t keep my attention on the latest goods being shipped in from other regions on the business side, then I’ll miss prime opportunities to know when to lurk along the trade routes and capture those goods for myself.” Shaking his head, the Englishman scowled down at the scattering of parts across Tino’s workbench. “The world of piracy is an uncertain thing. If I don’t stay continually one step ahead of the other Pirate Lords and the Military Dogs then there’s a good chance that they might get the best of me.”

“A few days might not hurt though.” Frowning, he shifted around awkwardly on his stool as the Englishman started to fidget, before Arthur tentatively voiced a question of his own. “If I were to cover the cost of a train ticket, do you think that perhaps you could show me where it is that you go hunting?” Feeling the need to explain his reasoning for such a request, he added quickly, “I am in the mood to shoot things, after all, and it would be a satisfactory means to test out whatever new gun I might acquire from you. If you are not inclined to do so then I completely understand.”

[Tino Väinämöinen]

Arthur's reaction to his suggestion didn't really come as a surprise, even though he had wished the Englishman would've been a little more open to the idea. His expression alone was enough to tell Tino the man hadn't even thought about the possibility of taking a couple days off. Arthur really was too preoccupied with his work, it was about time someone told him that he needed to rest too sometimes, like everyone else. Now it was just the question of turning the Englishman's head and getting him to warm up to the idea.

"But—" Tino's half-formed argument was cut short when Roberts returned downstairs. It seemed the man hadn't taken it on himself to start cleaning or rearranging the Finn's apartment, which he was grateful for. He'd nearly died of embarrassment the last time. Tino gave him a quick smile and turned back to Arthur, frowning when he realized he'd lost his original thought.

So settled for listening to the older man, expression darkening as he listened to the other's reasoning. Tino didn't doubt any of it, but that was exactly the reason why he'd suggested Arthur should take a break. It all sounded like awfully lot of work, hard work, and the gunsmith couldn't quite understand how anyone could keep up like that weeks and weeks at a stretch. If you worked too much you eventually got tired and started to make more and more mistakes, it was something Tino knew from his own experience. So hadn't it occurred to Arthur that maybe he was just too exhausted to find enjoyment in his two professions anymore, but was too busy to really notice?

Tino was just about to tell that to him but the Englishman seemed to change his mind then, the Finn visibly perking at his words. He didn't, however, see the following question coming. "Eh? You'd like to go hunting with me?" He asked, seeking confirmation that he hadn't somehow misunderstood Arthur's words. "I don't really mind but..." The truth was, it had been over a decade since he'd gone hunting with someone, the last time had been with his father back in Finland. And he wasn't exactly sure if the Englishman would enjoy the trip; Tino hardly ever brought anything but the necessities with him so it was all quite primitive. Though who knew, it could be that his landlord wouldn't mind at all. Despite his polished looks he was a pirate, after all. Still, Tino figured he ought to at least warn the man.

"I don't mind." He repeated. "I like to go to this place near Northampton. There's some forest and a nice little brook where I usually camp. It's really pretty and peaceful. If you're fine with sleeping outdoors then I'd be more than happy to have some company." His smile faded into a more serious expression as he added. "But. I'll pay for the ticket myself, you've done enough for me as it is." Actually there was a part of him wanted to accept the Englishman's offer, but doing that would've made him feel like he was just taking advantage of Arthur's generosity. No, he was an independent adult and capable of supporting himself. He would cover his own expenses.

Hoping to change the subject to a less awkward one, Tino picked up one of the guns he'd brought to the counter. "Here. If you're looking for a gun that's suitable for hunting as well, I recommend this one. It's a bit heavier than regular handguns but has a longer range and can be reloaded both manually and automatically." He the patted the weapon gently, almost as if it was some sort of living being, and offered it to the older man. "I call her Know-it-all Turnip. She's one of my favourites." The gunsmith gave Arthur a few moments to study the firearm before continuing. "I can give you one quarter off the price, in exchange for your old gun. If you find her to your liking, that is."

[If you find it difficult to wrap this thread up in your next post, I don't mind doing one more reply. I wasn't quite sure how to end this one OTL]

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur nodded quickly as Tino explained to him the nature of his hunting trips. A gentleman of this society would probably not survive without the luxuries of daily life. To settle for something like that would be unthinkable. Arthur, however, was no normal gentleman. “I’m sure that I’ll be fine. Once you’ve had to sleep in the brig of some enemy ship, being out in the cold and sleeping on the ground seems luxurious.”

He felt some disappointment when Tino refused his offer to purchase the ticket. Such expenses were really nothing for him and Arthur rarely had the opportunity to spend his fortune on anyone else. Of course he masked his displeasure by merely shrugging as he turned his eyes aside. “I understand. Though it really wouldn’t be any trouble on my part.”

When Finland offered him that other gun with the explanation behind it, Arthur cracked a small smile of amusement at the name of the weapon. “Know-It-All Turnip? I think I’ll have to keep that one to myself if I want to save any face amongst my pirate brethren.” He took the gun into his hand, testing the weight and the fit of it in his hands. Once again, the gunsmith seemed to know precisely what would work for him. Arthur nodded in satisfaction. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The Englishman smoothed his hand along the barrel of the gun, studying it with eager interest. This certainly seemed like it would suit his needs nicely. If it could be used to hunt animals in the wilds then it would work just as well for hunting other pirates when he needed it. Arthur smiled down at the gun, as it turned darker with those murderous imaginings. He then made a gesture to Roberts.

Placing his beverage aside, the Englishman’s valet reached into his jacket to withdraw his employer’s chequebook. Roberts filled in everything but the price, leaving the value amount for Finland to decide. It showed precisely how much they trusted the gunsmith because anyone could have written in some exorbitant amount for their own financial gain. Roberts handed the blank cheque over to Tino with a smile. “Mister Kirkland will probably be wrapped up in imagining excessive violence with his gun for a while. I’ll make certain that he gets it put away in the case and we’ll be on our way if you wanted to head back up to your loft. And I will be sure to remind him that he promised to actually take a few days off at your behest, Mister Finland. Cheers for putting up with our company for the day.”

[Arthur Kirkland]

[Finished Thread]