A pirate's token

Chapter 1 - Off the clock

~ A girl from work ~

Strategically, fashionably late. Yes, it was no coincidence this girl was late. She'd probably thought it out thoroughly and repeatedly before making the decision. The party was loud, too loud, but that was the point, wasn't it? To drown out everything else. The music pulsed, the floor beneath her feet vibrated with the bass and the air was thick with voices. It didn't matter much when she arrived, and she knew. In fact, it was probably for the best. Slipping off to the side, weaving through the crowd or fading into the background was much easier, when the party had already started. It meant less pressure. No need for small talk with strangers, or worse, enduring awkward introductions before the music kicks in. This way, she could just let the cloudy sounds drown out any hesitation, as she joined the shadows unnoticed.

In theory, it wasn't a bad strategy. Better to slowly fade into the mood of things and wait for the moment, when she might stumble upon someone who wasn't already completely wasted. That was the goal, anyway. How terribly off she was in her predictions

They were like an anticipatingly buzzing swarm of former ninjas, vikings, knights and pirates. Their usual swagger replaced by a chaotic tangle of dizzy, drunken enthusiasm. Arms flung around the girl in uncoordinated hugs, laughter spilling out in bursts too loud for the moment. Their skin against hers sent a prickling cold up along her spine. Too many eyes, all on her. Too much contact. Too close, no air, let me leave. A few half-hearted greetings were exchanged, dodging the clamor the best she could, before slipping away toward the snack table.

With a coke in her hand, she stationed herself there, hoping to stay out of the fray and avoid being swept back into the noise. She clutched her cup tight, a lifeline against the chaos, and scanned the room with eyes that pretended to be searching for someone. Anything. She wasn't. She didn't even want to be there, not really.

The truth, though—one she'd never admit aloud—was that being here was better than being anywhere else tonight. The space around her seemed to swirl with a mix of energy and confusion. People clung to each other, nearly licking each other in the ear just to be heard. Though the music was so loud she might've confused the bass with her heartbeat once or twice. The girl simply stood there, already forgotten by her welcome-committee, observing the room quietly.

This cavernous space had worn many disguises over the years. By day, it was Adventure Cove's own chameleon—a place where pirates plotted, vikings feasted, and wide-eyed kids spilled ketchup onto weathered wooden tables. On weekends, it morphed into a rental hall for birthday celebrations and company picnics, a few inflatable swords and faux treasure chests all it took to set the mood.

Tonight, though, it had been stripped of its usual magic, draped instead in the half-hearted attempt of someone who had remembered the party two days too late. String lights zigzagged across the rafters like desperate veins of gold, their glow soft enough to mask the cracks in the plaster walls. A table meant for a banquet was shoved into the corner, now bearing mismatched bowls of chips and an ambitious stack of neon plastic cups. The banners of pirate flags and ancient crests that usually hung on the walls were obscured by swaths of crepe paper in shades that could only be described as 'discount bin.'

The room reeked of artificial fog from a machine tucked near the DJ booth, a last-minute addition that made the air feel thick and smelled faintly of burnt plastic. A disco ball spun lazily overhead, its fractured light catching on the gloss of the wooden floors that still bore scuff marks from years of hurried cleanup.

It was like a high school prom and a sad birthday party had met at sea and decided to sink together. The girl's lips curved slightly, just barely, at the thought. It wasn't the Cove's best look, then again, it was hardly the strangest one.