"No. Thank. You," I repeat. "What business is my hands to you?"
"No. Thank. You," I repeat. "What business is my hands to you?"

"And what-" The ship tilts slightly, sending more rum onto my hands. I wince and close my eyes. I lower my head. "My hands are fine."

As he goes, I sigh and pull out my hand. Although it's hard to see, I can see a faint discoloration in my palm. I hope it doesn't get too bad. I merely lean my head against the wall, close my eyes, and leave my hand palm-side up.

Age: 23
Gender: Male
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Age: 12
Gender: Female
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I go down to the brig, a rusted metal plate in my hands. It carries minimal food and a glass of fresh water. I tap on the young girl's cell door. "Miss, would you like something to eat?"

Age: 23
Gender: Male
Tags:
Age: 12
Gender: Female
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