Outside the Lighthouse, wind and rain howled. Inside, things were warm and cheerful. Arthur truly loved to drink. He did not have many hobbies; this was his one indulgence.
The octopus he cooked was not particularly tasty. Aside from a little saltiness, it had no flavor at all, and just as he had said, it was overcooked. The tentacles chewed like rubber bands.
But when it came to drinking, what mattered was who you drank with. What you drank and what you ate were secondary.
Since the octopus was bad, Deathstroke had other food. Even Spicy Strips made decent drinking snacks.
Neither of them rushed to discuss business. Instead, they chatted about recent marine ecology issues, such as whether the alien sea god's influence from back then had left any aftereffects, and the Esoteric Order of Dagon that Ocean Master had organized after escaping captivity. That bunch gave off a rather sinister feeling.
"You know how it was. Back then, anyone who came into contact with the seawater vomited out by the alien Flood Demon would turn into a shrieking Murloc."
After downing a teacup of whiskey in one gulp, Arthur bared his teeth and wiped his big beard, sniffed, then poured himself another cup. Looking at Deathstroke, who nodded and waited for him to continue, he went on:
"After the matter was resolved, not all the Murlocs were restored to normal by the alien sea god. Some of them fled to an abandoned drilling platform in the United Kingdom's North Sea. My ambitious brother survived the disaster too. Somehow, he slipped over there, gathered those Murlocs, and founded a cult."
"Ocean Master does know how to name things." Su Ming also drank a cup, and Strangle's tentacle refilled it for him. He took up the conversation with a smile.