JACK
"An' I'll drink to that," Jack agrees, the words curiously solemn given that it's to do with the bootprint burns that tiptoe along the back of her neck. And he does, in fact, knocking back the last of the liquor in his cup and setting the empty down on the deck at his feet beside the crate. He smiles, catlike and knowing at the flush to her cheeks, able to feel the true enjoyment of the smoke rippling through her with the learned pleasure of it; he isn't the only one who learns quickly from his mistakes, evidently.
"Better or worse?" he wonders, of having a body with which to do things, an eyebrow raising with honest interest. Because if this has been little more than an exercise in following orders, the coin in his pocket might start to feel a bit too heavy, and whether or not The Ark is still his ship, he'll not hold her hostage to her legs.
Jack is still turning that over in his mind when she speaks again, and what happens next is something he so often thinks about that he almost laughs. But she clarifies, at least, and he glances over her shoulder to the crew - laughing, drinking, playing cards and trying to steal glances at her without being noticed - before wrinkling his nose. "Most of 'em wouldn't dare come near you. Not all, though," he mutters, the words frank as they are dark. "Not that I don't doubt you'd hold your own."
But no. Not with the crew, and not taking over from Murph - at least not on this night.
"A captain goes down with his ship," he says eventually, a smile kicking up the side of his mouth. "Whatever form that takes is up to you." Whether she stays with him like this or returns to wood grain and canvas, the point still stands.
"Better or worse?" he wonders, of having a body with which to do things, an eyebrow raising with honest interest. Because if this has been little more than an exercise in following orders, the coin in his pocket might start to feel a bit too heavy, and whether or not The Ark is still his ship, he'll not hold her hostage to her legs.
Jack is still turning that over in his mind when she speaks again, and what happens next is something he so often thinks about that he almost laughs. But she clarifies, at least, and he glances over her shoulder to the crew - laughing, drinking, playing cards and trying to steal glances at her without being noticed - before wrinkling his nose. "Most of 'em wouldn't dare come near you. Not all, though," he mutters, the words frank as they are dark. "Not that I don't doubt you'd hold your own."
But no. Not with the crew, and not taking over from Murph - at least not on this night.
"A captain goes down with his ship," he says eventually, a smile kicking up the side of his mouth. "Whatever form that takes is up to you." Whether she stays with him like this or returns to wood grain and canvas, the point still stands.
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!
