JACK
hellraiser
risk taker
risk taker
"Maybe it'd make those other ships jealous," Jack fires back. Based on her thoughts tonight about captains and what they'd do if their vessels were able to walk on land as she could, he gets the impression she'd not hesistate to show other hulls what they might be missing. As her fingers claw beneath his shirt, proprietary and impatient, the smile that forms on his lips is half swallowed up by the next kiss he presses to her mouth, already well able to imagine what might take place in the shuttered darkness of a market stall or against the brickwork of a shadowed alleyway.
Jack has other ideas, though, and he parts from her with a gruff laugh and a wink that concedes that he knows he's asked too much of her. "No restraint, then," he mutters, tugging her along with him to avoid having her drop her clothes to the ground for some lucky worker to find later.
They don't go far, something he's certain she'll appreciate, and whilst it does look, at first, as though Jack has opted for alleyway, there's a small door almost hidden from view at the end of it. No one is in there tonight, the Captain already well aware of that much, and whilst there's a key behind a loose brick in the wall near their feet, he opts to blast the lock away with a crackle of lightning.
It's an old bolthole - perfectly situated just off the boardwalk in case of emergencies, when poor timing or unforseen circumstances call for laying low. Jack isn't the only one who uses it, as is evident by the way the place smells of faint but fresh cigar smoke and spiced rum, but it's empty and there's a serviceable bed against one of the walls. And that'll fucking do.
Jack has other ideas, though, and he parts from her with a gruff laugh and a wink that concedes that he knows he's asked too much of her. "No restraint, then," he mutters, tugging her along with him to avoid having her drop her clothes to the ground for some lucky worker to find later.
They don't go far, something he's certain she'll appreciate, and whilst it does look, at first, as though Jack has opted for alleyway, there's a small door almost hidden from view at the end of it. No one is in there tonight, the Captain already well aware of that much, and whilst there's a key behind a loose brick in the wall near their feet, he opts to blast the lock away with a crackle of lightning.
It's an old bolthole - perfectly situated just off the boardwalk in case of emergencies, when poor timing or unforseen circumstances call for laying low. Jack isn't the only one who uses it, as is evident by the way the place smells of faint but fresh cigar smoke and spiced rum, but it's empty and there's a serviceable bed against one of the walls. And that'll fucking do.
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!
