JACK
hellraiser
risk taker
risk taker
Jack only responds this time with a pointed look and a wolfish smirk, raising his new glass of liquor slowly to his lips and taking a long, burning sip of it. However many last resorts there might have been during their time together, they've been fewer and farther between as the years had ticked by; both a testament to The Ark's impressive reputation and Jack's growth from arrogant upstart to seasoned crime lord.
His eyes flick down to the beads of moisture sparkling in the wake of her drumming fingers, the Captain smirking and reaching out to capture her hand beneath his own. His calloused palm is warm, his expression a whisper away from playful as he lifts his fingers to watch the magic at work. "You say that," he drawls, "but I knew you were my ship the second I laid eyes on you. I don't believe in fate but some might call it that."
Others might swoon and deem it love at first sight.
Jack doesn't tell her to pace herself, doesn't tell her to slow down. She'd wanted to come for a drink and so here they are drinking, and besides; it only takes one fierce hangover to teach a lesson that a dozen seasoned alcoholics might try to impart. So instead he continues to listen, well able to imagine the fate of sailors who had taken their vessels for granted, who had chosen surface reputation over care and upkeep.
"You're quite the malicious bitch, ain't you?" he says warmly; hopefully she takes it as a compliment, because it's fully intended as one.
His eyes flick down to the beads of moisture sparkling in the wake of her drumming fingers, the Captain smirking and reaching out to capture her hand beneath his own. His calloused palm is warm, his expression a whisper away from playful as he lifts his fingers to watch the magic at work. "You say that," he drawls, "but I knew you were my ship the second I laid eyes on you. I don't believe in fate but some might call it that."
Others might swoon and deem it love at first sight.
Jack doesn't tell her to pace herself, doesn't tell her to slow down. She'd wanted to come for a drink and so here they are drinking, and besides; it only takes one fierce hangover to teach a lesson that a dozen seasoned alcoholics might try to impart. So instead he continues to listen, well able to imagine the fate of sailors who had taken their vessels for granted, who had chosen surface reputation over care and upkeep.
"You're quite the malicious bitch, ain't you?" he says warmly; hopefully she takes it as a compliment, because it's fully intended as one.
full speed ahead
'til i'm dead in the fast lane
'til i'm dead in the fast lane
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
