JACK
Good, Jack nearly says, before opting to examine his own hands in the dim light instead, the knuckles torn by the sharp arc of someone's teeth, one of his fingers feeling particularly upset by the way it had been bent or wrenched in the scuffle. "Wouldn't say no," he rumbles his agreement, his footsteps altering to take them deeper in towards the city and the fountain. "Proud as you ought'a be for that punch, I don't fancy carryin' the souvenir with me if it's all the same."
Said souvenir is throbbing its protest in time with his pulse, Jack resisting the urge to prod at his cheek because he already knows what he'll find there - blood, swelling, and the early signs of one helluva bruise. "Oh?" Glancing back at the shadows all but nipping at Vesper's heels, the captain nods gently - strength is everything these days, in whatever shape it might come. "What's she got you doin'?" he asks.
As for those Vi/Mort demigods, Jack snorts under his breath. "Good for cardio, but I wouldn't rely on it to learn to actually fight," he mutters. "Not in any way that'd count." Too many rules, in his opinion. Even the White Knight's version of playing dirty is far too squeaky clean for him.
Said souvenir is throbbing its protest in time with his pulse, Jack resisting the urge to prod at his cheek because he already knows what he'll find there - blood, swelling, and the early signs of one helluva bruise. "Oh?" Glancing back at the shadows all but nipping at Vesper's heels, the captain nods gently - strength is everything these days, in whatever shape it might come. "What's she got you doin'?" he asks.
As for those Vi/Mort demigods, Jack snorts under his breath. "Good for cardio, but I wouldn't rely on it to learn to actually fight," he mutters. "Not in any way that'd count." Too many rules, in his opinion. Even the White Knight's version of playing dirty is far too squeaky clean for him.
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
