Don’t want to sleep

Quill slid over in the booth, making space. “Care to join us?”

Jimmy’s smile disappeared. “You consortin’ with pirates now, boss?”

The mask remained still. “I consort with whatever partners increase may increase my business. This pirate wants stories, so do me a favor. Do a favor for your boss, Jimmy, and tell him a story.”

“Stories ‘bout what, boss?”

The mask lifted his fists up and then opened them as if dusting the table with magic powder. Nothing fell from the quivering fingers. “A bedtime story.”

Jimmy’s half smile, like a long lost childhood friend from the neighborhood, appeared again. “Those are my best, boss. My best. Sleepy stories, my ma used to call ‘em.” He slid into the booth.

“I’d prefer a story about crowns, actually.”

“Well I don’t know no crown stories, partner.”

“Ah, well then I’m probably not interested.”

There was a sharp pain in Quill’s thigh. “Don’t care ‘bout your interests.” Jimmy’s smile began to smear, but really it was his whole face and then the whole room smearing. “Sleepy stories.”

Everything was dark.