this is drowning

JACK

Jack doesn't reply to that, precisely because yes, they both absolutely do know the answer to her question, so he leaves it be with little more than a raise of his eyebrows, before sinking comfortably back to roll his whisky glass between his hands. What he doesn't expect is to hear Flora tell him - not ask, tell - that he won't be touching a blade to his hair, and there's bald confusion all over his face that soon settles into uneasy acceptance. "Never realised you felt so strongly about it," he says, hiding his smirk behind a long and necessary sip of his drink.

Sighing at the burn of it that spreads down his throat and throughout his chest, Jack tips his head back to rest it against the wall and closes his eyes. "Is that so?" he drawls, feeling her mischief like fingers tip-tapping across his temples like a playful waterfal. He smirks and opens an eye to glance across at her, sitting among his sheets, wearing his shirt, saving his life. "Let's not talk about that," he mutters; becoming immortal feels like a deal he'd made a thousand years ago, when he'd been an altogether different man.

Instead, lifting an arm, he beckons her closer with a small jut of his chin, inviting her to sit with him rather than next to him.

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!