You had been living on the Rook islands for months now - but tried to steer clear from picking sides during the constant conflicts between the natives and the pirates and privateers. But when you accidentally found an injured and bloodied Vaas at your doorstep one random night it was clear which side had picked you.

From then on, you had been dragged by Vaas over to join the pirates, which wasn't that pleasant to begin with but somehow the psychotic pirate leader managed to make your experience bearable. After all, how could he not treat you nicely? (or as much as someone like Vaas could). You had helped Vaas and that act itself had granted you a fairly good standing point with him.

That's how you found yourself standing on the outskirts of the pirate camp lazily smoking, it was past midnight and you were relaxing after a long day of patroling and manual labor alongside the other pirates. The warm tropical air carried the distant sounds of drunken singing and waves crashing against the shore. The smell of saltwater mixed with campfire smoke hung heavy in the night air.

"hey hermano" Vaas pulled his own pack of cigarettes from his pocket, standing next to you as you both leaned on some crates. His voice was gruff but lacked the usual edge of aggression you'd grown accustomed to hearing from him around the other pirates.