your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Am I wrong? Flora wants to ask him, though for precisely the same reason she'd never asked him if he loves her, she doesn't. It wasn't fair, not to either of them; not when the queen knew who and what Jack was from the start. Not when she'd chosen to stay instead of running for the hills when she'd first realized she was falling in love with him, and not now when her love for him was this constantly growing and evolving thing she had absolutely no control over.
"I mean, if I have all the rum, I'll have a great flight back to Torchline regardless of your mood." The Doubletake counters mischievously, and while no, she's pretty sure that anything she'd try to put into Jack's bed would ultimately be weaponized against her, it might be worth it if only to see the look on his face when he pulled back his sheets to see hundreds of little heart-shaped ice cubes.
"You say enjoyed, I say literally tried for years to seem cooler than I was." The first inhale of cigarette smoke that she'd tried not to choke around, the first sip of whiskey that had burned her throat, the first time on her couch where if it hadn't been for Jack's insistence (something she understood much better now), she'd have just faked her way through.
Sighing encouragingly against his lips and feeling all the warmer for it, Flora lets her tongue slip between the captain's lips as if to taste the silver for herself. You're pretty good, to only be silver, she thinks as one of her hands unbuttons a portion of Jack's coat in order to touch some part of him not dulled by thick layers of blankets.
"I mean, if I have all the rum, I'll have a great flight back to Torchline regardless of your mood." The Doubletake counters mischievously, and while no, she's pretty sure that anything she'd try to put into Jack's bed would ultimately be weaponized against her, it might be worth it if only to see the look on his face when he pulled back his sheets to see hundreds of little heart-shaped ice cubes.
"You say enjoyed, I say literally tried for years to seem cooler than I was." The first inhale of cigarette smoke that she'd tried not to choke around, the first sip of whiskey that had burned her throat, the first time on her couch where if it hadn't been for Jack's insistence (something she understood much better now), she'd have just faked her way through.
Sighing encouragingly against his lips and feeling all the warmer for it, Flora lets her tongue slip between the captain's lips as if to taste the silver for herself. You're pretty good, to only be silver, she thinks as one of her hands unbuttons a portion of Jack's coat in order to touch some part of him not dulled by thick layers of blankets.
