It wasn't the first time Bugeye had been kicked out of a tavern. It wasn't the first time he'd had a bit too much. Since Club 41, he'd begun to let barkeepers keep them coming as long as possible. He hadn't drunk himself to death yet, so he probably never would, he reasoned.

The street swam under him as he hobbled out the door, making sure to tell the barkeep he wouldn't know how to mix a good Yellowbeard's Baby if someone dumped it screaming on his doorstep in a basket. It was already dawn, and the sun was too bright for his impending headache. He was waiting for the cobblestones to stop bucking and swaying when he realized he was standing in someone's shadow. His dark eyes shot up to see who was blocking his path.

"Oh," he grumbled. "It might as well be you."

"Ha-hey! Bugeye! What a surprise!" Guybrush Threepwood stepped forward as if to hug him, and Bugeye respectfully declined by putting up his fists and giving his best pirate face and snarl combination. The skinny, blond pirate was accompanied by two figures Bugeye recognized a lot less, one of which towered over the both of them in terms of bulk and height both, and the other being about Noogie's size. However, this man was bald instead of the shock of crimson hair his former brother—former companion had sported.

Bugeye had no need for brothers anymore.

The two strangers exchanged a glance. "Captain, what do ye want done with this drunken lout? Dip his head in the ocean tae sober him up a wee bit?" The bigger man, a red-bearded Scot with a toothy smile, asked in a heavy brogue. He nearly elbowed Threepwood right off his feet.

He just snickered. "Nah, me and Bugeye go way back! We're practically brothers, right?" Guybrush gave him an exaggerated wink.

"I wouldn't say that," Bugeye drawled.

"You fought with me against LeChuck! Remember? The giant sea battle? Tears in the fabric of space? Portals to the underworld? Club 41?"

"I, uh, don't recall." Bugeye was still trying to process what he'd heard the two bulkier pirates say. "Did they just call you Captain?"

The question was addressed to them, but Guybrush answered it anyway, because he just loved the sound of his own voice. "Sure. You know, I was technically already a captain when I first met you. Just, uh. One man crew."

"Aye, we're fixin' that," the Scotsman laughed.

"Why don't you come back to the ship? It's new, bigger. I could show you around. Introduce the rest of the crew." Guybrush hooked a thumb over his shoulder, his smile eager. His crew members looked less enthused at the prospect. The short one eyed his nail-studded peg leg with suspicion. He sported one of his own, on the same leg no less, but minus the sharp objects tacked on. His peg leg didn't also have to be a weapon. It was simply how he got around.

Bugeye considered. "What's in it for me?"

The Scot looked him up and down. "A bath fer suere."

"A hangover cure." the short man suggested in a gruff monotone.

"Breakfast?"

Guybrush's suggestion caught him off guard. He'd been denied a meal at the tavern. Well, uh, he'd sent it back to the kitchen for being too salty…but it was still their fault. Considering this, he realized he hadn't eaten anything for an entire day, and now it was the next morning…

He could stand to hang around if free food was involved. He didn't have to like the provider.

"That sounds fair. Lead the way, Goldilocks."