it's just a bloodstain

JACK

"Fuck you very much," Jack snarks, because of course Flora doesn't need to give voice to her thoughts for the captain to know where they're going. If it weren't for the lengthy battle to even get here, perhaps he'd have acted even more like a stray cat and started to nudge some of her trinkets towards the ends of shelves or tables. "Mm, it is," he agrees - he'd never said it was a particularly bad thing, after all, to be predictable. It certainly helps Jack stay sane.

As for why Flora's aren't like that? He can't say. He can comment on Mel, though, and it's with a bark of a laugh that he nods his agreement. "Mel's thoughts are psychotic," he corrects, and gods, even before the Honeybee had decided to skip off and become Ludo's trickster plaything, the captain had given her a respectful sort of distance.

Alas, this somewhat buoyant pillow talk between them isn't built to last, and the stormclouds of Flora's mood soon roll in and threaten their downpours. With furrowed brows, Jack rolls over, snaking an arm out as if to catch her hand as it feathers across her sheets, intending to draw her back against him - he'd said he'd try, after all. "So you think you need to punish yourself for it?" It's a question rather than a statement; Flora has proven more than once tonight that her thoughts can spin and change on a dime, and Jack isn't keen to get it wrong again.

romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic
and recommended