The rum was watered down, the crowd was silently slumped over their nursed brews and Jax realized pretty quickly he picked the wrong Inn. The wrench wasn’t bad, when she smiled. But after a few quick feels of her shapely curves Jax found her and the place lacking. He couldn’t really place why. He had been in uninspired hole in the walls before. Never found a reason not to just drink, watch, play and when needed extra excitement, start a fight. 

Jax looked over the room again and grinned. Maybe a quick bash of some poor drunks face would liven up this crowd. Or a smashed bottle against the wall. No, don’t want to waste the stuff when a chair would be just as good. He sat and pictured the feel of the chair in his hands, the swing, the splitter of the wood as it shattered. Jax smiled. 
As quick as the grin found its place on his face he jumped up yipped a yell and took hold of the very seat he was slumping on just seconds before. With hands on the back runs of island pine he took and swung the chair against the table. His hands felt the life of the tree splinter, he heard the crack of years of growth, he smelled the ages of soaked in brew and thrown up stomachs. With a wide grin he stood above the shattered chair and table. That felt much better. He tossed a coin to the stunned bar keep with a smile that no one answered or for that matter questioned. With a laugh he spun from wreckage and left the dull boring Inn. 

Once out in the salt thick night air of the port Jax felt a lightness to his step and he began to whistle. It was on old dutch tune familiar to all of the northern seas. Not something he expected anyone would know in these warmer waters. But that made the notes purer to him thinking of them under these southern skies. He liked the sound in his ears.

As he strolled down the docks he saw a figure move gracefully through the streets from the land side of town. He stopped his whistle. There was purpose to the strides he watched and it didn't take Jax long to identify the height and the slight sway of that gate. The first mate was heading into the Black Boar. 

Jax stopped and looked at the peeling painted sign. At first he thought he should find some other place to drink. But the vibrations of the broken chair still stung very slightly in his hands and he wasn’t ready to just slump away. With quick steps almost a run he was at the door before his superior made it through. 

They weren’t on board so he could afford a wide grin as he opened the door , with an exaggerated sweep of his arm in front of her, for the woman who did not have the sense enough to know her place. Unless that is she was going in for her other profession.