Steel jaws snapping shut on Caesar's leg would have brought a victorious sneer to his face, or if he had one at the time, that is. The poltergeist lingered in his transparent state for a while longer, mostly due to the swift arrival of his peers. A little game; how long would it take to notice he was right there? He had never shown off his expected ghostly abilities before, beyond the odd apparition distortion or sudden materialization. No actual poltergeist activity, but that would have to wait for another time. The makeshift tripwire dropped from its unseen suspension seemingly without anyone's notice, the entity approaching towards the main cluster of Tanglers only to take a seat and wait. Another fun element to his game was eavesdropping. What would they do without his management? Apparently flirt with an enemy, or shake said enemy around until Beck could hear the pirate's brains rattled against his skull. Not immediately dispatch him on the spot as their own commander would do without a twinge of remorse on his features.

    The back-and-forth discussion of what to do next lost his interest quickly, his focus drawn to Zimavich thrashing the trespasser about instead. Or at least until Iota called him off. What a killjoy. For once, Beck could agree. At least with Zimavich off of Caesar, he could properly watch his reaction. No grimacing or any signs of pain were odd; either he caught someone with high pain tolerance or someone with a failing nervous system. Both options meant torture wouldn't be a method of interrogation if it came down to it. But the arrival of Vigenere sure seemed to induce some amount of terror in him, breaking through his numb facade faster than Beck could notice the elder brother was even there. Side to side, his nearsighted eyes couldn't tell them apart -- definitely related. 

    His hidden fun and games were promptly cut short as Morgan spoke to him directly, luring Beck out of his plane of nonexistence with a clumsy materialization and a cold draft from nowhere. In all honesty, he wasn't sure what to do either. Fulvous eyes instantly sent daggers at Freyja for her previous flirts while his disfigured snout split into a mocking grin. "Didn't know ya liked kissin' guys with fish-lips," came the double-edged quip, delivered by a giggly wheeze. "Y'ain't thinkin' of runnin' off with Ol' Blackbeard here and makin' some minnows now, are ya?" Even with his teasing, a dangerous light remained flashing in his glare, now aimed at the captured pirate instead. Oh, he would teach him a lesson, alright. But first he had to address what exactly to do with him. Speaking from the intact side of his mouth in a hushed tone meant only for the Tanglewood members present, all while staring Caesar down, Beck began to ramble, "Well, if Vigenere really wants to keep him, then I say, 'why not?'" The restless ghost was always an advocate for revenge, yet he had to appeal to both sides of his audience now. "But if he doesn't, we'll just send 'em back with a li'l warnin', right? I dunno 'bout y'all, but keepin' him means he'll be able to spy on us or whatever. And I don't want pirates crawlin' all over our land and knowin' all our secrets, got it?" The little feline sent a worried glance over his shoulder, ears flicking as if asking for silent agreement. Distant as he may be, he didn't want any more friends of his to wind up hurt or dead because of things that could have been prevented. His project was too precious for that.

    A glower returning to his youthful face, Beck slunk towards the leghold clamped around Caesar's paw, baring sharkish teeth when he hissed, "Now as for you, you're gonna answer me whether ya like it or not." Without Zimavich on top of Caesar, he could still lash out, but it wasn't like the ghost cared about his apparition's well-being. Many injuries were repaired and replaced by what movies had dubbed ectoplasm within a matter of days, so Beck advanced with nonchalant confidence, stooping down next to the chain tethering the trap to the ground. Having built the trap himself, it was easy for him to locate the release switch, yet frigid paws ignored it and instead squeezed around a related mechanism, simultaneously forcing the trap to tighten even more and dig its metal teeth deeper into Caesar's leg.  "Now, why don'tcha tell me your name, rank, and what ya were plannin' to do here, unless ya wanna end up with a pegleg like a real pirate's," he smugly threatened, clenching the trap's mechanism tighter and tighter with a vice grip until Caesar chose to speak up or have his leg cut off in a contraption as primitive as two sharpened metal half-circles closing together.