[There's a very offended pirate turning a shoulder toward the rum-thieving doctor before finally giving in. With a lot of grumbling.]

True, Bonesy, though what I really owes you is a fine bottle of single-barrel malt and a knife in the gut.

[He grabs another bottle, this of ale, and presses it to the side of his face before answering Vash]

Eye? Aye. To beautiful wenches everywhere! He raises the bottle with a knowing glance at Vash before returning it to his aching jaw]