“No!” Locke was unaware that he’d leapt to his feet until Jean pulled him back down hastily. “Oh, you bastards! You rotten, miserable, skulking bastards! You can’t take my fucking ship—” “Which was already taken,” said Jean. “I come a thousand miles to shake your bloody hands,” Locke screamed, “and you show up two hours after they put us overboard!” “Not even half that,” said Jean. “Bloody fucking limp-cocked witless laggard pirates!” “Thieves prosper,” said Jean, biting his knuckles as he snorted with laughter.
