Alan fell backward once he had the key, pressing his back into the wall. He left room for his giant hands to work with the key, as deftly as meaty hands could. Struggle, grunting, and general mumbled swearing came from the large sailor's mouth. He had difficulty picking the lock, sausage fingers fumbling with the dainty metal. Eventually, and if nobody noticed, the key finally found its mark.

He would keep the seastone cuffs on as he strode behind the pirate who had put a sword to his neck. Whistling, Alan burst from the cuffs and clasped his hands together above his head, intending to bring down a mighty hammer fist down upon the back of the pirate's head.