Emperor Crumb responded promptly to the Gangplank’s offer. Although he had finished his dinner nearly three hours ago, he was still sitting at his preferred table, enjoying the hospitality of the bar.
“How many is that?” Malus asked when Kaylee returned to the kitchen to report.
“Beats me,” Kaylee shrugged. “I’m just pourin’; stopped countin’ ‘bout an hour ‘n a half ago.”
“At this rate that old fart is going to break us before he passes out.” Malus’s sneered. “How is he not dead?”
“Barkeep!” came the imperial call from the Gangplank, accompanied by the sound of a glass being tapped on the bar.
Kaylee rolled her eyes. Malus looked at his pocketwatch then returned it to his waistcoat. “This is taking far too long,” Malus pursed his lips in thought. “Listen, I want you to go back in there and take the cuckoo clock off the wall. Emerson hides his premium leaf inside it. Fill the hookah and talk Crumb into indulging.”
“How am I goin’ to do that?” asked Kaylee.
“You’re a girl, he’s a lonely old man. It shouldn’t be that hard,” Malus sneered. ‘I’m going upstairs to get ready.”