...arrr

[destinyunravels]

[Ambles aimlessly into a room...any room, a half-drunk bottle of rum dangling precariously from his hand, is a creature wearing what resembles a ratty and tattered old naval jacket and looks like...well, Scruffington, full on beardy 'n' shit. He reeks of alcohol and who knows what else. His brown hair is matted and only part of it is even still fastened together by a ribbon.

He slumps against the wall.]

What's the use? [He takes a generous swig]

There's nothing. Not even the most spectacular breasts I'd ever seen. Who bloody cares anymore? Not I, not James, that's who!

[His voice only got louder with his proclamation and he resists the urge to start letting it rain on his face. Instead he drinks so much more of the rum it dribbles down into his beard. Classy.]