Another one of those drabbles that’s supposed to incorporate quotes said by a different character… 

2:04 A.M.

“You got bad manners,” Scott said.

Got? God, funny how one word could remind him of his brother, even now. All those hours he’d tried to teach Johnny proper grammar, and in the end, it had been he who’d adopted his brother’s casual speech. “Get out.”

The dandy didn’t move, so Scott dragged him out, throwing him to the deck, silently cursing his own waning strength.

The man’s face flooded with fear and fury. “You’re a dead man!”

“Well, I picked a good day for it.” Or night. In truth, it was the sort of weather he’d grown up loving, a stiff icy wind blowing ocean salt in his face. Although, if he could have picked a day to die, he would have chosen that day forty years ago when he lost his brother, the day part of him did die. Their last day together, and they’d wasted it arguing about that one stupid word.

A girl hurried to take the man’s place, but the man rushed to push her aside. Scott thrust his cane out, tripping him just as the last lifeboat plummeted toward the frigid sea.

“Like I said, you got bad manners.”