Man to Gentleman
Rich Sean is a compass a-spin. I noticed in him very early a certain shrewdness, masked by his rough-hewn form and his failure to use consonants properly, which wile was especially impressive when it came to removing things of value from their rightful owners. This quiet rapacity, dancing in turn with his lucky stars and his complete financial ignorance, made him among London's wealthier gentlemen, and certainly the richest to have not an acre to his name. It has left him also at a loss of purpose. After the usual splurging of the newly rich -- that eventful night he first bought everyone in the Crimson Unicorn a round, and then, realizing the full scale of his wealth, he bought the Crimson Unicorn -- he has been directionless. I have spied him pocketing Jack's salt cellars out of habit, only to "find" them again the next day, and his conversations with Bucephalus have turned curt.
He has been extremely fortunate to have Jack and myself about, to help him understand the rudiments of money and investing, to give some higher purpose to his time, and, we hope, some much higher return to his capital than the Crimson Unicorn -- a fine establishment of which I can say nothing ill -- could ever provide.
And so we have chartered a ship.