[Training] feelin' fantastic, i'm fuckin' fantastic

JACK

Jack winces as the shape of Flora's hand against him threatens to dig into bruises that, while they hadn't been responsible for his actual death, are still bone deep and healing. Still, he schools away the expression as he glances down at the Doubletake, pausing conveniently just a half street away from the old boxing ring so he can tilt up her chin to meet his eyes. "You're queen of a region, and what you say here goes," he whispers to her. "Don't let bein' caught out in the Greatwood make you forget that."

Kissing her, however briefly it might be, Jack's hand around her waist has already strayed southwards even before she starts thinking shady thoughts about a Dragoon he's confident he can take in a fight, even if not any time soon. "You keep this up and I'll find some good lookin' Dragoons of my own to train with," he sasses, sure that jealousy can run both ways in their partnership.

For now, though - target practice. "And I have mine, conveniently enough," he says, setting off once again. His daggers might not be magical and poisonous, and he should probably invest in a real weapon for cases where his magic is neutered, as Flora once put it, but it won't be today.

you're the last of a dying breed; write our names in the wet concrete
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me

Code stolen from Queen Sky