Hunter had watched from afar for quite some time now. He was sure something would have to give soon but reserved judgement. He's not the most vocal of character and not one to really voice his opinions very often. 

One can only assume that being friendly has an expiry date. As much as it does take all sorts to make the world go round, some are indeed unnecessary bellends. 

Credit to Constipated for giving even the lowest of the low a brilliant opportunity to prove themselves, despite knowing it would inevitably blow up in his face.

Enzo listened to everything as well. Nodding to what Hunter had said.

"I would have to say I agree with you on this Hunter."

I have seen the point made previously that a lot of crew leaders favour a very young descendant of a well reputed friend over crew members with less illustrious bloodlines. This is such a difficult argument to fall on either side of the fence. 

A scenario such as this, pushes me in favour of the former despite previously favouring the latter. 

"I sent a friendly telegram earlier:

To: Alexia0527
From: Doctor_Melfi
Sent: Aug 20, '19:48
Subject:

Who are you friend?

I got this reply:

To: Doctor_Melfi
From: Alexia0527
Sent: Aug 20,  19:55
Subject:

Shut the fuck up you worthless piece of shit, do not message me again

Friendly?"

Sounds like a nice person.

How is this friendly?

To: TheBeast
From: Doctor_Melfi
Sent: Aug 20, '22 06:56
Subject:

Want to join my crew of honourable winners?

To: Doctor_Melfi
From: TheBeast
Sent: Aug 20, '22 06:56
Subject:

no, ty.

To: TheBeast
From: Doctor_Melfi
Sent: Aug 20, '22 06:57
Subject:

Good. Youre a loser

Sounds like the kuku lineage making shit up again. 

Yeah Hobbs kills horses.... Allegedly

uh, I provided proof via your mails to me. Am I wrong to say that what you said wasn't friendly?

Oh and btw, myself and my forefathers have an impeccable record of telling the truth. Ask anyone. 

Tremblin' a sit-down shakem'uhhp over TheBeast 's ooc-itis, da KUNT of his own ship sailed into the shores of this thing of ours. Boo ts'ta'ts'tss'Ka Ts'ta'ts'tsss't on his way into a lovely conversation. A real zinger was thrown down and flew over everyone else's heads except the duckin'nta hee'zown stepped one. A bow of the Bow by way of upp'erdz brow, porter side, makes its way onto FartBarf's face. He slides through incomin' pedestrians, his right hand floatin'n the back pocket of a man. A fresh wallet to scavenge through like the real buzzard buzzkill bumblin'on'n'on about nothin' at all's scavenge hunt. Quickly comin' up with an answer for TheBeast 's query down a canal of paradoxical conundrums.

The pirate sent to do a sailor's job speaks, "I think you're misinter'pre'tin. The lady Doc asked if you wanted to join her honorable team of thieves. Think of it like a flag, whether it's a bandan'r or a flag on a ship. She offered her flag for you to fly, and you turned her down. Now in theory isn't that "not very nice of you" to do? After all you both hold the same rank, who is she to try and help you? What if her ancestor journals have a richer in-depth look into the finer fabric interwoven within the codes and ways of which our business is done?"

A smoke signal of his own spliff rolls off into the winds blowin' through the crossways.

"What if objectively speakin' you are the loser here? You seem'ter'be havin' a fit of OOC-itis right here, and per'apps she could have shown you other ways to accrue booty and scavenge the lands. Land pirate or not, every mafioso'n'mobstuhh loves money, and there's more than one way to gut a baby giraffe. Ya know'm sayin' bub?"

The topic of discussion was being friendly, at least I thought it was. When I politely declined your offer, you called me a loser. That was rather rude, don't you think?

FartBarf can't help but think TheBeast would be the first to get socked'emm'bopp't in a game of chess.

You're sorely mistaken Mr. Barf. Chess happens to be a hobby of mine.