Francis laughed at the killer's attempt to goad him into opening the door for a quick brawl, even using his relation with his shipmates to add insult to injury.  "Ain't paid to think.  Paid to do as I'm told."  he never lost his stupid farmer grin as he reached out and hit the intercom. "Capn.  He's awake.  Should I flush the toilet now?  Seems like a floater in the pool water."  He didn't realize he had hit the shipboard intercom instead of the one room intercom, but it really didn't matter to him either way as his voice broadcasted across the ship.<br/><br/>He knew he would have to watch his back, but fear was no new thing to Francis.  He had lived with it for years, learned from it, used it to fuel himself to greater acts of courage and on some occasions, heroism.  He was a pirate, a cutthroat and a rogue and made no compunctions about it, but he considered himself a cut above the cold blooded murderous bastards that populated his business.  He knew such a thing as loyalty and honor, he would stick by the man, or woman, who signed him, where they would switch at the higher bid on a whim.<br/><br/>"Like I said Killer, I got your number.  You might catch me someday, sometime.  I might be walkin along mindin' my own business, but I know one thing for a fact.  You won't face me when you get ready.  You'll get me from behind.  You see, that's the ticket right there.  You say I'm afraid, and yeah I am.  But that don't stop me.  And when I do something, I come at ya head on.  And that is what scares you.  The fact I ain't skeered of ya at night.  I sleep cosy wherever I roam.  Cuz I know, but hey, if ya manage to grow a pair and face me down.  I might give ya a budgie with how shit scared I'll be.  My little heart will pitter pat till the veins start bulgin.  But Hell, what am I worried about.  Chicken Shit." and he turned his back to him.