Intrigued about my host, I pressed him for more details of himself. More precisely, I boldly declared, "I'd rather know more about you!"

It was only after Sawtooth's eyeridges shot up that I realized how forward my words had been. I stammered out an apology, ruing the alcohol that I had already consumed. Sawtooth's drinking companions guffawed loudly, one of them slapping me roughly on the back. But Sawtooth's grin didn't waver, and he was silent for a moment amongst the whistles and catcalls of the other patrons of the bar.

"You are strange drypony,” he finally announced. “But strange is sometimes good. And all times interesting.”

As the night passed, he explained about his life and work as a pirate. He had been raised in the sharkpony way, though they had been previously far more nomadic, rarely spending more than a fortnight in any one place. When he talked about the days of his childhood, I caught glimpse of a faint wistfulness that seemed at odds with his rough exterior, only making me more intrigued about the sharkpony before me.

We talked long into the night, and I was exhausted by the time I stumbled back to the dwellingplace that had been secured for my mistress and myself.

To my pleasant surprise, Sawtooth sought me out the next day…