24th May, Below decks

De Guarde had just changed his slops and his shirt, taking the one marred still with a fading hand stain. his hair was a bit of a mess and so the ribbon was unfurled and his hand combed with the fingers of his left hand. He frowned as it felt it did little to run through the knots. With an deep sigh he leaned over and into the chest he shared with Chase and pushed about the clothes till he found his and a small bag which contained some of the smaller personal things.

Bringing a comb from it, he slipped the chest closed and left the Tar's mess to find some silence and peace. Leaning himself against a wall he began to work on the knots, tugging his hair free of one then pulling another more to the front. It was a tedious job, but it was better here where his lost strands of hair would not be driven into another Tar's face.

Well, his hair was perfect as usual. Jet-black, silky, braided... making a strong contract with his marble skin.
He didn't wear his hat. Actually, he never liked it, and took it off every time he could. Whoever designed these hats was a complete idiot. They were everything but practical...
Some movement... some breathing. Like the last time. He smiled and moved in direction of the noise...

"Look... if it ain't Little Rat."

His violet eyes became terrific, his smile even more chilling.

A soft gasp escaped the young Tar's lips as he whirled around. His hair was still in a sort of disarray, the comb stuck onto one of the knotted bits. His eyes widened at the sight of Claggart. He had been rather successful in avoiding the man, hoping that he might never need to see him alone again. But now he was here and the youth chewed at his lip nervously, his hand dropping quick to tug at the sleeve of his shirt.

"..s.. sir." He was not caught with anything he wasn't supposed to be doing, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt of his mind. "I was just about to be going.." He spoke hastly and made a step as if to leave.

"Why so hasty? We haven't chatted in ages, boy."

He was even more frightful when he pretended to be nice. He stepped closer, blocking De Guarde's way, and his eyes found the boy's. Why is he looking always so guilty? He didn't smell rum this time. It msut be something else.

"How about the news?" He asked in a sweet voice.

"N..nothing. No news."

He shook his head sharply wishing he had moved quicker or payed more attention before this man came. He would've been gone if he did. Safely away in company of others.

His pale blue eyes dropped quickly to the floor to avoid the icy cold and cruel pair looking at him. He pulled sharply at his sleeve, his courage strangely gone.

"P..please sir, I really ought to go. I..." He wasn't needed anywhere yet, but surely the master-at-arms couldn't know that.

"No news? I don't think so. There's always some mess on a ship like this..."

He reached his rattan and put it gently under the boy's chin.

"Don't try to hide it from me, lad. For you own good..."

He was still smiling, but there was a sharper tone in his velvety bass. A tone of threatening...

"Is.. is... is a good ship." He stammered squinting his eyes closed. His knuckles were white, both hands having a firm grip on the other hand's sleeve.

He felt the urge to push the rattan away or take a step back to avoid it, but he feared that a movement forward might be considered a strike. In his sane mind he would not give such an opportunity to the cruel weasel of a man.

"..is a good ship, good captain, good Tars, good marines. Can't.. isn't a mess there." He was lying about all being perfectly well. There could always be something, minor or large, unimportant or a thing that could be made to be of great importance by the right weasel of a person.

The description of the ship and its people was actually something he was beginning to believe in. Either way though this was the Terpsies he was made to speak of and Claggart wasn't one in his mind. Never could be.

"Here. No mess." He shook his head weakly.

"Hm... so everything's perfect, eh, Mr. Ex-Midshipman?"

Yes, he spent some time to ask about his little rat. Nice things he found out... very nice things. He already knew the boy was a drunkard, but not that it was that serious.

"Nothing unfair? The world's perfect... the ship's perfect..."

The rattan caressed the boy's neck.

The boy flinched as if struck by that rattan that was touching his neck. It wasn't fair that the man found out. It wasn't right he knew. And it pained him to have it rubbed so in his face. He lost his rank and his position, he was shamed! Was that not enough?

"Y..yes." His voice trembled. His eyes were a tad bit mistier, the pale colour mixed with the shine that the wave of bitter emotion brought. His being a Tar was unfair, but that wasn't what Claggart wanted to know. He took a step back, the caress unnerving the lad.

"Ship... perfect." How he yearned to get drunk just then. To have the world seem as lovely and free of this man and of worries.

"S'... s' wot' I .. I am telling you, sir. Ship... all good."

"You're just hopeless, you know." He sighed.

"Do you know Corporal Johnson from the marines?"

Oh yeah - Mr. Johnson was a little suspicious too. After that talk... and after his "Admiralty sucks" comments... a possible mutineer. Or, at least, someone untrustworthy.

The lad looked more relieved. He knew the Corporal and he disliked him still. "Yes, I do." He answered truthfully and stood a few inches from the reach of the man's rattan.

"He's Terpsy's marine corporal." Which, was about the same what Claggart just told him as well. What was the man getting to? He hadn't learnt about him being a midshipman from that man, did he? It was possible though. The corporal wasn't the kind of man that would care for someone's sentiments, least that's what the young Tar thought.

"You should keep an eye on him. Don't necessary talk with him, as you are the world's worst actor... but watch him. Listen carefully what he talks with others..."

He felt in the boy's voice that Johnson wasn't much liked. Well, to be honest, he himself was bored to near death. That man and his lasses! His constant complaining against the Admiralty!

"Sir, he's a marine. And a corporal. There's nothin' a Tar coulda talked ter him about anyway..." Well, he wasn't too bothered to do exactly that, though to listen to a corporal would have been easier for a marine to do. He was a mere Tar and though he was all too often found below with the marines, the later was known to the marines and the Tars only.

"..do... do yer suspect him of summat?" Perhaps an opportunity to get the man back for the injustice he felt, was delievered to him, was presenting itself.

"Maybe... maybe. He doesn't look very satisfied."

Again, he stepped closer. Now there was no place for the boy to withdraw. But he left his rattan now.

"Not half as satisfied as you are..."

Again that predator smile. Claggart felt nervous... damn, not now. Not here. Not with this wretch.

The feeling of unease was strong with the master-at-arms so close.

"S..sir." He stammered wishing to gain some of his personal space back. He felt like a rabbit caught by a fox. A mouse toyed by a cat. He chewed at his lip taking a small step to the side, inching his other leg after the first. He didn't like the look of the man, not now not any time he had seen him.

" I...I don't like being a Tar.. but.. is not summat I can change. Is... is summat t' captain can. So... so is his decision. Can I please go now. I've told yer all I knew, I...I'll be needed soon."

A rat ran past them and disappeared down a small crack in the wood, squeaking as it went.

"Don't try to run in every two minutes!" He blocked the way with his rattan. "I'm not eating you!"

No... he was planning something competely different. He felt he has to do it - the sooner the better. To break the little rat competely... to ruin him... and to make him his slave forever.

"See, if you don't drink and behave in general, the captain would forgive earlier. If he's really a good man as they say..."

Goodness! How he hated goodness.

"But being nice includes doing your duty, and not resisting a superior officer's tries to help..."

Now he was terrible. His eyes lost their human light and darkened. And the fact he was quite attractive made he chance even more frightful. And his smile was something like Inquisitors practiced every day.

"I'm not running!" There was a smallest bit of defiance in that tone. He looked at the rattan. If he tried he could duck under it before the man's hand reached for him. But why would it? He was a master-at-arms doing his duty? No, this wasn't any sort of duty he was doing. Not the way he was secretive, the way he'd caught him where and when others would not. But what it was that made the hair at the back of his neck stand, he did not know.

He bit his lip. Every inch of his body was telling him to run. Why? Because of the look in the man's eyes?

Maybe he was just wrong, and too tired to think straight, but it was at that moment that the boy pushed down quickly. To the side and towards the small bit of empty space where the rattan and the hand holding it was. If only he could reach the safety of the door and the Tar's mess, where many a man were. Too many, and he would be intimidated no more.

Of course he tried. The fool.

But no, this time there's no escape.

"Stop!"

It was an order. Pronounced really hard, and he reached for the boy's coat.

"We aren't done yet."

He stopped at the word, too used to obey orders so hissed. But then his sense returned and he pushed forward just to feel a hand clutching his shirt. Alarms were ringing in his head as he pulled and twisted, placing his whole weight into his next heave to free himself.

"Done. We're done!" His voice wasn't hushed any longer. He said all that he meant to - and none that would have any of his Terpsies in trouble - so he knew there was little reason to stay now. Perhaps following his feeling wasn't the smartest thing to do, but for now it felt to be the best thing yet.

He grabbed his coat and pulled him back.

"We're done when I say so, sailor!"

He just grabbed his shoulder with his other hand too - throwing the rattan to the floor - and pressed him to the wall. Although he was slim, he had a big strength.

"And now, tell me why are you always trying to run. Where exactly are you running? It's a ship, you fool. You can't hide for long."

"Sir." He coughed and wheezed, his breath momentarily lost to the force with which he was pressed against the wall. There was something the matter with the man. He was evil, cruel, wrong. Very wrong.

"..I.." Couldn't anybody have heard it? He couldn't strike the man to have himself free though he was tempted terribly to do so. Kick, bite, it wouldn't have mattered, if only he hadn't been a Tar! A Tar's word meant nothing. His attack though... was punishable in the worst manner.

".. I.." He started again and began to squirm, some breath returned.

"You're cruel." He spoke through his teeth gritted. "Let me go!" His voice was raised somewhat. Perhaps if he were to scream the roles would have changed and Claggart would be the one in need of running? He opened his mouth ready to do just that, see how the master-at-arms liked it, being questioned for his actions!.. which were?

"Cruel?" He looked very, very wounded. Almost sad. (Never, ever believe him!) He softened his grasp, but not enough for his prey to run again. No, little rat, no more running tonight.

He felt the boy is going to scream. He covered his mouth with one hand, but surprisingly tenderly.

"Shhh. Do you want more trouble, my boy? They wouldn't be happy being awakened at this hour."

He waited.

He mmphed harshly, as loud as he could but it was hardly enough for Claggart to hear and he doubted that any snoring man would be awoken by the sound. He glared at the man. Whatever he meant to do, it was not something he wished to take part. He may not have guessed the man's true intention or else if he did he was certain to deny it, but the single act of silencing him so had made him certain it was nothing good.

He closed his eyes. He had to, even if it meant terrible trouble. Fear sunk its sharp claws into him. If he did it, it would...

His opened his mouth some and then tried to bite hard at the hand that was laid over his mouth. Be damned he didn't care if anybody would be awoken and upset for it.

"Biting your mentor, Little Rat?" He shaked his head. "Not nice. Have I harmed you? You want to run all the time and then bite. Speak of ungratefulness."

He still didn't let the boy go. Damn, if he's going to scream...

"I could cane you for this, but I don't want. Why are you so frightened? I told you, I'm not eating ex-midshipmen."

Now his voice was almost pleasant. Almost. But still that Commendatore-ish bass sound... although in piano.

"Mmmph." The boy answered, unable to speak. He watched him distrustfully, his pale eyes no longer shiny or in danger of tears. Perhaps he looked more stubborn, defiant than anything.

He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head as much as he was able and sighed.