JACK
Quiet as Flora's home might be, it only makes the tether between her mind and his magic all the stronger for it, and the fact that she bites back her questions despite that is something that leaves Jack feeling strange and unsteady. He doesn't deign to look away from the window (he doesn't need to, after all, knowing exactly what the Doubletake has selected and why), but he does take the rum, watching The Ark sleepily anchored in the harbour and the port twinkling away in the distance.
"I haven't, no," he replies to her thoughts around a sip of his drink, nonetheless surrendering his shirt and letting her set it to the side. He hasn't let anyone touch him the way Flora is currently planning - in his younger years, the workers at the Halenani would have been lucky if he stuck around long enough to properly button his pants again.
Lifting his glass for another sip of rum, in the glow of dusk and with the Doubletake in such proximity, she'll undoubtedly notice the brand new spill of ink against the captain's right bicep, hidden until now by the dark material of his shirt. Strikingly without colour, the shapes are nevertheless apparent; a spray of hibiscus, jasmine, bougainvillea, and the odd calla lily. In short, a display of flora, with not a drop of starlight to be seen.
"Don't say that," he drawls, of his father and fucking him. "He'd enjoy that if it were you, I've no doubt." Beneath her hands, the captain's shoulders are the sort of tight that borders on painful, cords of muscle formed by his time navigating The Ark but made tense by the sort of responsibility that goes well beyond pulling rope and climbing rigging.
"I haven't, no," he replies to her thoughts around a sip of his drink, nonetheless surrendering his shirt and letting her set it to the side. He hasn't let anyone touch him the way Flora is currently planning - in his younger years, the workers at the Halenani would have been lucky if he stuck around long enough to properly button his pants again.
Lifting his glass for another sip of rum, in the glow of dusk and with the Doubletake in such proximity, she'll undoubtedly notice the brand new spill of ink against the captain's right bicep, hidden until now by the dark material of his shirt. Strikingly without colour, the shapes are nevertheless apparent; a spray of hibiscus, jasmine, bougainvillea, and the odd calla lily. In short, a display of flora, with not a drop of starlight to be seen.
"Don't say that," he drawls, of his father and fucking him. "He'd enjoy that if it were you, I've no doubt." Beneath her hands, the captain's shoulders are the sort of tight that borders on painful, cords of muscle formed by his time navigating The Ark but made tense by the sort of responsibility that goes well beyond pulling rope and climbing rigging.
when I look at something, I see it for what it could be
when I look at something, I see how it ends
when I look at something, I see how it ends
Code stolen from Queen Sky
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
