i'm the storm your mama warned you about

JACK

hellraiser
risk taker

"Or three or four," Jack says readily enough, eyes skimming the menu as they sit, in search of something in particular. For all of the Captain's ego and arrogance, he's the first to recognise a skill in someone else, especially a skill that might be transferable with a few sweet words and the right attitude. "You won't get him away from that door 'til last call, but I reckon he's already more'n willin' to give you the time of day."

With a smirk Jack sits back, watching the exchange between The Ark and the server with unashamed interest, and when they finally collect their senses enough to glance in his direction he orders a single malt, top shelf, caring little for the cost. It's the last of a cask he'd rolled ashore nearly a year ago now, and he'd never gotten the chance to taste it himself. He plans to change all that tonight.

The server retreats then, giving them free rein to people watch with as much subtlety as they're being watched in turn. "Ah, you get used to it," Jack mutters of the feel of their eyes on him. "Ain't any trouble stirrin', not just yet in any case. You can relax," he assures her, shrugging out of his coat to sling it over the back of his seat. "I'll let you know if anythin' changes."

full speed ahead
'til i'm dead in the fast lane