Thomas A. Bridlington returns with a blast and a grin!

A seagull caws. The bells ring. A salty breeze waves through Thomas' hair. The gangway is extended between the ship and the dock.

"Off you go, away, chop, chop, move, make space. Oh, be gone already." Thomas whines in high tone as he walks through the crowd of burly seamen.

A shot echoes. A burly seaman falls from the ship. A taint of red in the water.

"By 'he Ligh', sir, no' another!" cries the captain in desperation.

Thomas cackles, sliding the traditional revolver back in its gun holder.

"Oh, but captain. I had warned the labourers several times already. If one cannot be warned, all must learn by example, I say. Besides, kind captain, another mouth less to feed, and plentiful in this awful city to replace him for less! Why me, I believe I've made you a small fortune!" says Thomas arrogantly.

A parasol pops open. Makeup is adjusted under the shade of the parasol, aided by a mirror. Content moans are produced.

"Very well. Off we go! Tatty-bye, captain!" Thomas screeches as he walks across the gangway, and sets foot on land for the first time in weeks.

"Now, now, capital of slums, what have you to offer me? Firstly, see to my little business. Secondly, remove the excessive wife. Thirdly, see what niche there is to exploit! No, no, that simply won't do. Beforehand, a toyboy for the night. Ah, that does sound splendid, indeed." he mutters softly, a wide, content grin spread across his powdered face.

"Old Town it is!"