"Aye. Except for the part about giving away our hard-earned plunder, that sounds like jolly fun."
Vandal looked a bit distracted for a second. Reflected in a glass scuplture he could see a hooded man watching the group somewhere behind him, drawing closer. He hadn't lived 50,000 years just to be assassinated at a costume party. Breaking the random swagger of a pirate with sudden agility, he drew one of his pistols and pointed it at the skulking figure.
"Not so fast, dog. State yer name and business or I'll paint the floor with yer blood."