i'm the storm your mama warned you about

JACK

hellraiser
risk taker

The Ark's whipcrack exclamation might draw attention from the rest of the cellar bar, but has an honest laugh rumbling up in Jack's throat, the Captain having to put his drink down to stop from sloshing liquor over the glass. "If you're havin' thoughts like that, you'll definitely have to wait for Murph to come out with us," he says, keeping his voice low enough to be considered conversational, though the dark glitter in his blue eyes betrays his amusement at the way every mind in range has just perked its ears up to try and listen. "He can more'n handle himself though, remember. I dunno that he'd thank you for wantin' to fight his battles."

There's a reason, after all, why The Banshee is still afloat, the same as there's a reason why Jack's father is (presumably, anyway) still breathing and drinking himself to death. It might not be a kind reason, but it's still a reason.

With her tumbler empty he pushes his glass across the table towards her as if to offer her something to keep the burn in her throat, simultaneously gesturing to ask if she'd like another gin.

As talk turns to ships and the heart that might beat inside them, Jack doesn't hide the curiosity in his own expression, idly tapping a finger along the table's woodgrain as he listens. "I s'pose you can feel it in the water, the way another ship moves or turns or responds," he says slowly. "You sense them in a way no one else likely could. Still, if one of 'em succeeds only to have a siren bury a knife in their backs, more power to her."

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