Hugh Hamilton
"No rest for the wicked ay?" Hugh joked.
"Are you referring to us, or our enemies?" asked Ben.
"It depends."
"On what?"
"On your idea of morality."
"Oh." Ben pondered this for a moment. "I guess it boils down to ‘we're right and everyone else is wrong’."
"Agreed," said Hugh, clicking his fingers jovially for extra resonance. "Now how do we get home?"
"I suggest we flag down that old whaling vessel over there," suggested Ben.
And so they did.
"Hello," said Grace before locking them in a dark ratty wine cellar at the bottom of the ship.
"Does this taste funny?" asked Ben cautiously.
"Well what did you expect?" said Hugh. "It's wine-soaked dead rat."
Ben spat out the rat as dignified as possible under the circumstances and wiped his lips.
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