your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Indeed, in response all Flora can do is roll her eyes. Jack isn't wrong, of course, there were certain things you absolutely don't forget—many of which the captain had been present for in her life—but even she was too tired to give a response more than a soft huff of amusement, her thoughts watercolour splashes of the sorts of firsts he was talking about.
"Sounds like you need your eyes checked, old man." She sasses softly, not needing a mirror to tell that she looked far from her best, but gods, what of it. They were both alive and now that he'd mentioned passing out Flora could think of little else.
But then there they are, standing naked in Jack's cabin with him waiting for her to get into his bed, and rather than thinking about all the ways he might fuck her or WHaT ThIs MeAnS, instead the queen just glances tiredly over one shoulder toward his trunk and shrugs. "It's too hot." She murmurs, before reaching for the bucket to drag it away from his bed. Hesitating only a moment before climbing gently over Jack to get to the far side of the bunk, Flora sinks down onto the mattress, surprised by just how comfortable it was. Why she thought the captain's bed would be all starchy sheets and plywood she couldn't really say, and maybe it was because of what she'd endured the past few hours, but gods had she ever been more comfortable?
Wriggling beneath the sheets, Flora rests her head against her arm, keeping a comfortable amount of space between them, since, you know, Jack hated cuddling on a good day and probably ever moreso with how shit he likely felt. "I'm glad you're okay." Flora whispers softly, her thoughts golden-edged and pillowy soft.
"Sounds like you need your eyes checked, old man." She sasses softly, not needing a mirror to tell that she looked far from her best, but gods, what of it. They were both alive and now that he'd mentioned passing out Flora could think of little else.
But then there they are, standing naked in Jack's cabin with him waiting for her to get into his bed, and rather than thinking about all the ways he might fuck her or WHaT ThIs MeAnS, instead the queen just glances tiredly over one shoulder toward his trunk and shrugs. "It's too hot." She murmurs, before reaching for the bucket to drag it away from his bed. Hesitating only a moment before climbing gently over Jack to get to the far side of the bunk, Flora sinks down onto the mattress, surprised by just how comfortable it was. Why she thought the captain's bed would be all starchy sheets and plywood she couldn't really say, and maybe it was because of what she'd endured the past few hours, but gods had she ever been more comfortable?
Wriggling beneath the sheets, Flora rests her head against her arm, keeping a comfortable amount of space between them, since, you know, Jack hated cuddling on a good day and probably ever moreso with how shit he likely felt. "I'm glad you're okay." Flora whispers softly, her thoughts golden-edged and pillowy soft.
