JACK
Jack leans in to accept the cigarette back between his lips, deft fingers closing the fan of his cards to set the stack face down on the table. Exhaling another grey-blue whorl of smoke and raising an expectant brow towards the other players, he lets the silence stretch long enough that he can feel their muddy thoughts suddenly swim with questions. Why's it so quiet? Shit, did I miss somethin'? I wonder if her carpet matches the drapes and so on.
Eventually, though, the men seem aware of the game again - the gurgling one under Jack's boot has never forgotten, he's pleased to note, because that has been the point - and, one by one, they predictably fold. "I reckon you were right about that luck, love," Jack announces, satisfied. He removes his boot at last and the poor fellow scrabbles back with a wet and wheezing gasp; the Captain ignores him to reach forward and sweep his winnings across to his side of the table.
The knife gleans, wicked sharp in the air as it plunges down towards the felt. The dealer flinches, chairs scrape and knock against the ground as the majority of the table lurch to their feet. Only Jack and the assailant remain seated, the Captain's hand turned casually up and away from the blade that rests, cold and unforgiving, right where his palm had been only seconds before. Where, by all rights, it should have been still.
Eventually, though, the men seem aware of the game again - the gurgling one under Jack's boot has never forgotten, he's pleased to note, because that has been the point - and, one by one, they predictably fold. "I reckon you were right about that luck, love," Jack announces, satisfied. He removes his boot at last and the poor fellow scrabbles back with a wet and wheezing gasp; the Captain ignores him to reach forward and sweep his winnings across to his side of the table.
The knife gleans, wicked sharp in the air as it plunges down towards the felt. The dealer flinches, chairs scrape and knock against the ground as the majority of the table lurch to their feet. Only Jack and the assailant remain seated, the Captain's hand turned casually up and away from the blade that rests, cold and unforgiving, right where his palm had been only seconds before. Where, by all rights, it should have been still.
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic
and recommended
and recommended
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
