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Drumming his fingers on the table, Izzy keeps regarding Ed like there’s something he wants to say, but he isn’t sure how to say it. The townhouse is quiet now. The rest of the crew are gone, off home, drunk or a couple drinks off drunk because they’d all let loose tonight. Why not? It’s not every day Izzy Hands has an engagement party. Frenchie’s tucked up in bed, too, safely led there by his fiance with Dave the dog for company.
“Spit it out, mate,” Ed says, swilling his remaining dregs of whiskey around the wide-bottomed glass.
“Don’t wanna offend you,” Izzy huffs, pushing away from the table and resuming his tidying up.
“You won’t,” Ed assures him. “Just say it instead of looking at me weird.”
“How come you and Bonnet never got married? You could’ve afforded it, towards the end.”
Ed inhales, exhales, and downs what remains of his drink. “That’s not offensive, man. That’s gotta be one of the most normal questions ever,” he says.
Izzy scrunches up his face. “Feels too normal,” he says, which Ed kind of gets? It’s the sort of thing old people ask, like they think marriage is the be-all and end-all of a relationship.
But it’s Izzy. Ed knows he’s genuinely curious, and it makes sense to be, when he’s just got engaged to Frenchie of all people. It wasn’t something Ed saw on the cards. They don’t seem the marrying type.
“Well, why are you marrying Frenchie?” Ed asks, to try and find himself some footing.
Izzy grumbles a bit. “S’not fair, flipping it around on me –”
“I promise I’ll answer. Just… give me something to work with, mate.”
After a moment, Izzy sighs. “Because I love him. Because I want to make sure he has legal security if anything happens to me, and I want to share everything with him, even my name, and… maybe because my Ma would’ve liked to see it. She never got a wedding.” He pauses, then adds, “And it’s a good excuse for a party.”
Ed snorts out a laugh. “Multiple parties, by the looks of it,” he says.
Izzy flips him off. “Your turn,” he says.
“Don’t get me wrong, we talked about it,” Ed admits, reaching up to scratch at his ear. “But for Stede, marriage was… stifling. With Mary, I mean. It wasn’t love. It was a piece of paper and obligation. Everything we owned was already shared. I did not want to have the same name as his father. And we were happy, you know? Didn’t see why we should change anything. We didn’t need to be husbands. We were already everything and more to each other. We were comfortable as we were.”
Izzy nods, looking contemplative. “You… against the concept of marriage in general?” he asks, suddenly averting his gaze as he picks up some leftover platters and takes them into the kitchen. “I mean, would you want to be involved in a wedding, or is that a no-go?” he calls to him.
Rolling his eyes, Ed slips free of his chair and follows him. “Izzy,” he says. “Is this your way of asking if I’d want to be your best man?”
Predictably, Izzy’s cheeks are flushed when he glances over his shoulder at him, while filling up the dishwasher. “Didn’t say that,” he says.
“Yes, I’ll be your best man.”
Izzy huffs, somewhere between a laugh and annoyance. Cheeks still pink, he nods again. “Thanks,” he says.
“So, Mr French-Hands –”
“Oh my God, stop –”