To say Pincher was a workaholic was an understatment. The male was obsessed with the idea of work, constantly nitpicking at his ideas and creations and believing he could do better. Nothing really satisfied him or made him feel accomplished except his family and his crew but improvement of himself? That seemed like a goal he would never really be able to reach. He carried a lot of flaws within himself such as his paranoia, selfishness, violent beavior, and lack of empathy. One could write novels of how fucked up Pincher was especially his habits that were not healthy at all. He did exercise on the daily and ate decently but his smoking and drinking? Those were dangerous habits that he seemed to never be able to break or stopped, his body adjusted to every shot he took and every inhale of nicotine. These habits had blossomed within his life when his father had allowed him to take his first swig of rum and his uncle had allowed Pincher to take his last cigarette before pushing him into a fight. It had been a rough childhood filled with lilac bruises and aching bones but it had made him who he was now despite the pain. He was strong and capable of taking a lot of pain and shock even if it exhausted him. But there was one fucking drink that he could never get used to.

He rarely drank the cursed concoction because of the name and how strong it was. But he had been craving for nights where he could just not wake up until the afternoon. So while his family had decided to spend time in their submarine, the male had gone out to the Capricorn Tavern with his attention honed on the idea of taking some drinks. Nothing out of the usual, just some shots of tequila and maybe a few cups of whiskey or vodka. He was used to those sorts so after taking a decent amount, Pincher had been ready to head back home when the bartender suggested a little drink that had always been his favorite. Adios, Motherfucker. That drink was hell on ecstasy and the male hesitated, debating on if he should drink that the day before meeting day. But he was craving it for quite some time now. The only problem was how powerful it was and how it made someone like Pincher — a demigod that drank on the daily — a complete idiot or well more of an idiot than he already was. Before he knew it, he accepted the offer and downed the drink with his body buzzing for more. The night became a mixture of confusion and amusement, Pincher laughing and singing with other drunken bastards before stumbling out of the tavern and into the night, humming sailor songs with the moonlight outlining his stumbling form.

He remained this way until morning where he had decided to simply collapse beneath the shade of a palm tree, his lumbering form collapsing onto itself with his dazed icy blue eyes fluttering shut. He began to snore softly with his sides slowly rising and falling as he allowed sleep to envelop him. He was tired from work and completely drunk, his body practically a shell as his soul left him as if he was astral projecting into dreamland. Even with the commotion of the crewmates beginning to run around and do their work, the dark storm gray jaguar did not move a muscle. Pincher was usually a rather light sleeper but after the drinking fest and exhaustion, he had become an incredibly heavy sleeper and wouldn't wake up even if someone decided to step on him or yell at his face on how shitty of a captain he was. Basically, Pincher was free for everyone to mess around with.

[member=1434]SYLVINA[/member] & [member=1667]CLEO R. C.[/member] + anyone can join in and make pincher pretty for once in his life (glitter/ribbons/paint/etc.)

© LEXASPERATED

[div style="letter-spacing: 1px;"]i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies ----- information
I'LL TELL YOU MY SINS AND YOU CAN SHARPEN YOUR KNIFE !
--✷--