"Quaint?" Guybrush asked incredulously, completely missing the sharp look from the older man. His life's work, his passion from boyhood summed into a single word. "Being a pirate isn't quaint- well, unless you mean the clever-and-skilled sort of quaint, in which case it is- but trust me, piracy isn't for the faint of heart! You have to master a sword, be able to find treasure, rhyme better than every other pirate wandering the waves looking for booty, assemble Voodoo dolls from common household items!"

He frowned visibly, stuffing another bite of bagel into his mouth. Only the second bona fide prosecutor he'd ever met, and he was already missing Stan and his loud coat. And what kind of a name was Manfred, anyway?

"Trust me, being a pirate is a lot harder than it sounds," he added with an irritable waggle of his hook, finishing his last bready bite.