Booze Your Wounds [Pirate's post raid thread!]

Disappointed was an understatement. While the injuries he had acquired during the raid were minimal, Gil still continued to grumble under his breath. The whole way home, as quickly as he could manage, with a slight limp and his belly beginning to heal, Gil rumbled about his loss. He was practiced and efficient, but still bested by a pup. There was nothing noble about it and now he wouldn't be able to help any longer. His expression is stiff even as his owl lights upon his shoulder in an attempt to soothe his concerns.

Approaching the fire, he realizes he is the first one to arrive. He hadn't stayed to see if Modesty had one hers or needed help returning. What a shitty dude he was. Knowing he would have to apologize for that later, Gil set his rump down by the fire and grabbed a bottle of booze to wait. Stretching out so he could warm up with the lick of flames along his belly, he began to drink. Both companions by his side as Urtur, his wolverine, began to seek out appropriate herbs to help the wounds for both Gil, himself, and Erish the owl.

"speech"