JACK
"On that we can both agree." Jack smirks, some of the usual bravado returning to his expression, his thumb grazing across the pale scar he knows he could match along her hull with ease if he went looking. For all the secrets the Captain keeps, the worth of his ship has never been one of them; friend or foe or otherwise, it has always been common knowledge that Jack would put The Ark before all else, whether it's the lives of starwhales or the fate of the world.
This time when she reaches for him he doesn't flinch back, merely raising an eyebrow as she tugs his shirt aside to reveal his torso, sun-kissed and silvered with scars, shimmering with celestial branding and traditional ink both. "Touche," he rumbles; tense is something he has no doubt she'd have been able to feel from him from the moment he set foot on her rotten deck all those years ago.
And if that's as far as it had gone he'd have been able to play it off, he thinks. But gods, Jack had asked, and only as she speaks does he realise he's not been sure if he wants to know the answers. From the casual nostalgia that strokes his ego - and it does, without a doubt - to the quiet habits he wants to deny only to realise it would be foolish to do so, and a lie besides, The Ark made manifest truly does know him. She knows him in ways he's refused to be known by anyone living or dead, even those who had tip-toed the closest. Even those he'd wanted to show eventually, given time and patience.
She knows him enough that he doesn't hide the wince at the reminder of the burns that mar her skin, Jack shaking his head in reproach at his own carelessness. "Not slow enough that day," he says.
Sinking down to perch on the edge of the desk at her final verdict, the Captain drops his gaze, but he keeps hold of her hand. "Yeah," he agrees slowly, with all the weight of a confession. "I am tired, love. The sort of tired no amount of sleep can shake off."
This time when she reaches for him he doesn't flinch back, merely raising an eyebrow as she tugs his shirt aside to reveal his torso, sun-kissed and silvered with scars, shimmering with celestial branding and traditional ink both. "Touche," he rumbles; tense is something he has no doubt she'd have been able to feel from him from the moment he set foot on her rotten deck all those years ago.
And if that's as far as it had gone he'd have been able to play it off, he thinks. But gods, Jack had asked, and only as she speaks does he realise he's not been sure if he wants to know the answers. From the casual nostalgia that strokes his ego - and it does, without a doubt - to the quiet habits he wants to deny only to realise it would be foolish to do so, and a lie besides, The Ark made manifest truly does know him. She knows him in ways he's refused to be known by anyone living or dead, even those who had tip-toed the closest. Even those he'd wanted to show eventually, given time and patience.
She knows him enough that he doesn't hide the wince at the reminder of the burns that mar her skin, Jack shaking his head in reproach at his own carelessness. "Not slow enough that day," he says.
Sinking down to perch on the edge of the desk at her final verdict, the Captain drops his gaze, but he keeps hold of her hand. "Yeah," he agrees slowly, with all the weight of a confession. "I am tired, love. The sort of tired no amount of sleep can shake off."
fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
