it's just a bloodstain

JACK

He hadn't asked whose fault it had been, and the confirmation, whether internal or spoken aloud, is enough for Jack to finally build up a solid picture of what had happened. His blue eyes are dark as his arms move around the Doubletake, drawing her tightly against his chest and feeling utterly useless in this; a foreign feeling, and he can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times it's burned in his throat.

"I don't think it was your fault," he says tentatively, even after - or especially after- the full explanation, where the captain can see the crimson streaming across her skin in his mind's eye, can visualise the torn flesh, the honey dark eyes and the bleak disappointment in them. "You're not responsible for someone not bein' able to control themselves. You didn't consent to what happened to you."

Much as it might surprise anyone who knows the captain and the truly heinous things he's done in his life, Jack finds little joy in forced pleasure, for all the reasons Flora now understands better than anyone else. Fuck, though, is about right, and he lifts a hand to gently push her curls back from her face. "I won't kill him," he adds, in case her thoughts ricochet that way, but he does suddenly very much resent the shirt he'd helped her hang up in her closet.

romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic
and recommended