Salt, Beer, and Vikings (Den Intro! Calling Iggy!)

There was something about the fresh salty air of being in northern Europe that vaguely reminded Arthur of home. He strolled down the streets, mildly buzzed already after a particularily good haul. It had been so long since he'd just been able to be a pirate and not a privateer for the Queen. Feeling the need to celebrate, he walked into the nearest pub he could find to order a nice strong rum. Getting drunk sounded like an amazing idea.

The Dane glanced up at the sound of the doors swinging open, mouth full of an oddly delicious combination of salmiak and cookies as he peered through the clouds of cigar smoke at the new arrival. As soon as he saw the swish of a pirate coat, he instictively attempted to grin, but quickly found that doing so with a mouth full of food was a challenge. He quickly washed the mouthful down with a swig of beer, brushing away the crumbs on his shirt as the bartender moved to serve the new man. The Dane stared in awe, following the man's every-move with an open-mouth gape that probably looked, to anyone watching him, truly ridiculous.

Sitting heavily down on a stool near the bar, he quickly ordered his rum, a fierce and satisfied grin on his lips. The rum was quickly placed before him and with a thanks for the quick service he took a happy gulp. "Ahh... damn good." he purred, leaning back as far as he could without falling off and relaxing.

The Dane wasn't quite over his staring spell just yet, but took a pause in his open-mouthed gaping long enough to take a large gulp of his beer, successfully finishing off his second glass of the evening. He muttered a brief affirmative to the bartender when he was asked if he wanted a third, before moving down the bar a few seats, leaving just one between himself and the potentially dangerous man. He dragged his munchies over with him and pushed them towards the man, a small grin on his face as he made the offer. "Ya look hungry."

He wasn't expecting any company - the people of this port were relatively insular from what he'd seen so far, his crew was off doing their own thing (and most of them were underage and he would have to beat them if they showed up here) and bartenders seemed to only talk to him when he was wanting more beer. Choking on his mouthful of beer, he was thankful enough that he didn't spit it out - but the forced swallow burned his throat something awful. Coughing and choking, he took another swig to try and clear his airways. "Bloody hell..." he croaked, his free hand bracing him against the bar as he nearly fell off the stool.

Mathias winced a bit as the man choked down his drink, and reached out to place a hand on his back to keep the guy from falling off of his stool; he rethought it, though, and moved his hand back to his own drink. Touching a pirate probably wasn't a good idea, especially right after you practically gave them a heart-attack and made them choke on their alcohol. On second thought, maybe he should just sneak out while he could...But he squared his shoulders, laughing a bit uneasily as he slid his drink back and forth across the bar between his hands. "Hej, sorry about that, man. You okay? I'll buy you a round to make up for it."

Once he could breathe properly again, he turned to whoever it was that bothered him, fully prepared to chew him out for trying to kill him. But something... odd caught him off guard, leaving him with curses dying on his lips and his mouth open. He was beginning to wonder if he was crazy with all the deja vu feelings that he kept getting around people. "... yes. Thank you." he was startled enough that he used his Lord Kirkland voice instead of his Pirate Captain Kirkland one. Damn it all. He cleared his throat. "I mean... you damn well better!"

Mathias barely registered the sudden shift from gentleman to ruthless pirate captain, instead laughing as he slapped a banknote on the bar and ordered another round of...something undoubtedly strong, for the man. There was a slightly nagging feeling at the back of his mind, but he brushed it off with relative ease; after all, he had never met a pirate before, so how could he possibly know this man? He pushed the cookies and licorice a bit closer again, and grinned at the pirate as the bartender poured the drinks, looking at the two with no small amount of confusion written on his features. "So, ah...are you a pirate? I've always wanted to meet a pirate. I work on the docks so I see them all the time, and it seems like a pretty awesome job. Like being a viking." Having never been put into a situation quite like this one, Mathias had never really noticed his habit of needing to fill the silence with chatter. It didn't even occur to him that it could be hazardous to his health if he didn't watch himself.

He'd barely picked up the new rum when the other started to chatter. Of course, he thought he'd be given time to answer before the next question was asked, but it wasn't, so after a moment he clicked his jaw shut and sat back, letting the others almost nervous chatter subside before answering. In the meantime, he finished off yet another rum, bit into and spat out a... strange licorice thing...and nibbled on some of the others cookies - since hey, he did offer.

Mathias continued a string of pointless chatter before pausing to take a breath, after which he blinked at the other, taking his appearance. He breathed out in a short laugh, shaking his head. "It's so weird, but I feel like I know you from somewhere, although I'm pretty sure I've never seen you before in my life." He shrugged his shoulders and bit into a cookie before taking a swig of his beer, sighing happily at the cold, refreshing taste of the alcohol. He finished the cookie and munched into some more salmiak, turning his attention to the other as he chewed, waiting for some kind of response, whether it was to his rampage of questions or his rather strange and obvious statement.

By this point, Arthur was already starting to feel the effects of drinking too much hard rum with very little food. Blinking lazily, he shrugged - managing to spill some of his rum on his jacket, making him curse. "Y'seem kinda f'miliar t'me as well. But I hain't never been 'round here before. Been to England afore? I may ha met you there..." Not wanting to smell like spilt rum, he shuffled himself out of his jacket, trying to do it while sitting on it on a stool. It... wasn't working out for the best.

Mathias watched the other wiggle for a moment before he actually figured out what the man was attempting, and he reached over the pluck the coat from his shoulders with a slight snort of laughter. "Nah, I've never been out of København. I think I'd like to visit England someday, though. Is that where you're from?" Apparently having calmed himself down by getting all of his questions out of the way immediately, Mathias was now much more patient in waiting for the other to answer a question, twisting a little in his seat to face the man better as he sipped at his third beer. It was almost gone, and Mathias wasn't sure if he'd have another. It was usually by the beginning/middle of the fourth beer that he started to actually feel the effects of the alcohol, and Mathias kind of wanted to be (mostly) sober for this conversation, although the other man didn't appear to be faring as well. "Hey, you want a smørrebrød?"

Saluting the other with a raised mug for thanks, he nodded, trying to listen intently to everything the other was saying. "O'relly? Yea, I'm Britsh - one'f the best damn places 'round." he picked up another cookie and washed it down with more rum - they tasted surprisingly good together. "Y'seem like a... nishe guy. If'n yeh want, I can take y'there." It felt as if his ears were stuffed with cotton. "Sm-what? Whassat?"

The Dane laughed, shaking his head as he ordered one of the open-faced sandwiches from the bartender, who took the order back to the small kitchen. "Smørrebrød. It's like, ahh...like a sandwich? Ja, an open-face sandwich. Seems like you could use one~" He was probably a bit too amused by the other's inebriated state of mind, however the other had such a fun slur, even if it made his accent a bit hard to understand at times. It took a moment of silence before he realized what else the other had said, and he quickly blurted, "You'd take me to England? Really? Like, as a part of your crew?" ...No, he wasn't exicted /at all/. What gave you that idea?

A sandwich sounded really tasty right about now, he thought vaguely. "Sh'right I will! I need more men wi... wif muschles." He gestured vaguely to the outline of Mathias's arm. "Shtrong men n'women."

Mathias pointed to the 'sandwich' as the bartender slid it onto the bar in front of them, showcasing it's delicious layers of meat, cheese, spreads, and other various things that...altogether made the dish actually look a little questionable, but delicious none-the-less. "Here, eat up! S'good for ya." He pushed the plate toward the other and downed the last of his third glass of beer, moving on to the fourth which the bartender had already prepared, although he didn't recall asking for it. "So, you'll really have me on your crew?" He didn't really intend to question the man; he had already given him an answer and Mathias fully intended on taking the opportunity. To get out an explore the world, sailing the seas like he's wanted to for so long now...although he did have some doubts that the man wouldn't remember this in the morning. "If I'm going to be on your crew, I should probably know your name, huh? I'm Mathias." He stuck his hand out for shaking, briefly wondering if the man would realize what it was for.

Considering the food Arthur ate on a regular occasion, the sandwich in front of him looked and smelled amazing. But as desperately as he wanted to dig in, the hand being held out to him needed his attention first. "Righ - m'names Arthur Kirkland. Cap'n of the Grim." Forgetting himself - in all honesty his name was rather famous in the underworld now and when sober he knew better than to give out his real name - he blurted it out loud. While some of the patrons in the bar didn't notice, a few (sailors and merchants alike) froze and swiveled to look and see who claimed that bane of a name.

Mathias was probably fortunate to have never heard the name 'Arthur Kirkland' before, as he lived a slightly (read: very) sheltered life. He didn't notice some of the patrons staring rather intently at the pair sitting at the bar, and shook the man's hand before letting him go and urging him to eat his meal before the alcohol took it's full toll and knocked him out. "It's nice to meet ya, Captain~" He grinned, sipping at his own beer and praising himself for his own good luck at meeting a pirate captain and getting accepted to his crew so quickly, even if said man was...more than slightly inebriated.

"Sh'nishe to meetchew too." He blinked lethargically, as he took another swig of his beer - only to realize the damn thing was empty as he drank air. "Damn." He turned, smacking it down on the bar and signaling for a refill. The bartender, however, wandered over to the Danish man and spoke softly to him "Look, sir. I appreciate the patronage and all, but Kirkland needs to go before one of those foreign guys gets it in their heads to try and kill him. You're on his crew now - I won't charge you for the food and drink if you manage to get him out of my tavern without inciting a brawl. Good luck with that." and with that, he went back to uneasily cleaning mugs.