The man who spoke had a fleshy, thuggish face and a large beard. A golden hook took the place of his left hand as he stood up, scowling.
"BANG!" Charles slammed his prosthetic hard on the table. His eyes held an undisguised challenge as he glared at the man. "I don't like it when people stand while talking to me. Sit back down."
Gold Hook's eyes widened and his mustache quivered. The atmosphere in the cabin grew tense.
But Charles showed no sign of backing down, continuing to glare provocatively. He was being deliberate; he had to use this opportunity to establish his control over the fleet.
Nominally, Charles was the fleet's Commander, but the other captains still saw him as just an employer.
