JACK
Jack is just about to ready to slip from his hiding place to teach the little lockpicker a lesson when, lo and behold, a demigod enters the fray. Remi might not know it but his mind packs a fucking punch, instantly recognisable to the Captain, and Jack freezes to let the shadows take him; a boon from the Grey Road he's increasingly grateful to have.
As it happens, the treasure hunter does startle, and he seems ready to defend his stolen wares until he turns to see the winged man on the root ridge nearby. Very much thinking better of that decision, the rudimentary tools he holds clatter to the ground and he holds up his hands in placation, clearly assuming the box is Remi's.
"M-my mistake, sir." He practically wheezes the words out on a voice that sounds like it never truly broke during adolescence. Skittering back, assuming that sticking around will get him nowhere but in more trouble, he opts to disappear back into the root network as quickly as he can. (And he's still straining for the sound of someone following, right up until he leaves Jack's telepathic range).
Sighing and stepping out at last, the Captain tosses the blade of ice to the ground where it sticks up like a shard of melting glass. "Death's favourite saved a life today," he mutters, approaching the lockbox to crouch down. "Sure there's poetry in that somewhere."
As it happens, the treasure hunter does startle, and he seems ready to defend his stolen wares until he turns to see the winged man on the root ridge nearby. Very much thinking better of that decision, the rudimentary tools he holds clatter to the ground and he holds up his hands in placation, clearly assuming the box is Remi's.
"M-my mistake, sir." He practically wheezes the words out on a voice that sounds like it never truly broke during adolescence. Skittering back, assuming that sticking around will get him nowhere but in more trouble, he opts to disappear back into the root network as quickly as he can. (And he's still straining for the sound of someone following, right up until he leaves Jack's telepathic range).
Sighing and stepping out at last, the Captain tosses the blade of ice to the ground where it sticks up like a shard of melting glass. "Death's favourite saved a life today," he mutters, approaching the lockbox to crouch down. "Sure there's poetry in that somewhere."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
