Shanks is introduced to Seaman First Class Beckman's skills with the rifle by way of it almost cracking his skull.
Impressive! And unusual, since most Marines tend to prefer to use their rifles for shooting pirates, not practicing their swings on them.
Intrigued, he creates some space around the man - enough that they can talk without anything but the marine's continued attempts to bash Shank's brains in interrupting them.
"You're good," Shanks informs him, grinning.
The marine grunts, and swings at him again.
Shanks catches the blow against the hilt of his sword. "And I mean that. Good." He glances at the battle around them - his crew fighting side by side with the villagers, who are armed with nothing but pickaxes and sledgehammers and the odd frying pan, their eyes full of fury and desperation. "Better than this," he says, lowering his voice.
The dark eyes under the white cap reflect the flames of the burning village.
When they move together now, it's like a dance, with Shanks reading his opponent's every move. What he sees makes him drop his smile. "Stop that," he orders. "Letting me kill you isn't going to change anything."
Shank's lips pull back in a new grin. "Join me?" he says, and laughs at the way the marine's jaw drops.
"You're a pirate," the marine observes. Very acute fellow. Shanks likes him already.
"Yep! With a crew and a ship and all. Come on. Join us! It'll be awesome."
Shanks fends off a couple of marine nobodies, then dives in to spin his erstwhile opponent around.
They both look at the white-coated, gold-bedecked figure high up on a hill behind the lines, shouting orders.
"It'll be better than this," Shanks says, serious.
His new recruit nods, once, a slow smile spreading across his face. Then he hefts the rifle to his shoulder, and takes aim.