JACK
Rain hits the glass in soft plinks of noise at first, speckling through the dark until The Last Word is filled with a hush that goes beyond the whisper of the Arclight or the creak of dock boards. A more superstitious person might have said the Captain had summoned the weather to join him on his way to see Torchline's queen, but Flora will know that this is just the way of the islands and the season they're in. It doesn't stop the world from seeming closer and more oppressive for it, but there's certainly nothing supernatural about the downpour.
The door, when it opens - because it was always going to - is silent but for the way the patter of rain grows briefly louder, though when Jack steps inside he's as dry as when he left The Ark (both the ship and the woman). Releasing the hold on his water magic and letting the door swing shut once again in his wake, he doesn't remark on how empty the bar is but for a raise eyebrow towards the tables. "Explains why it's so quiet," he mutters, referring to the relative telepathic blackout on his approach.
Hopefully it will continue to be that way, but just in case, the Captain has a few members of his own crew hanging around outside; if nothing else they're useful warning beacons should anyone approach who isn't altogether welcome. Locating Flora at her table overlooking the churn of the sea, Jack spares her only the briefest glance as he approaches, boots tapping quiet and hollow on the floorboards.
"One could get the idea you don't want to be seen with me," he drawls, shrugging out of his Kingmaker coat and slinging it casually over the back of his chair before plopping to sit down in a slouch, one leg propped out, ringed fingers already reaching for a glass and the bottle of rum. "See news still travels fast in Torchline." About his return, he means, Jack pausing to pull the cork out of the bottle with his teeth. "Out with it, then. I got another meetin' after this one."
The door, when it opens - because it was always going to - is silent but for the way the patter of rain grows briefly louder, though when Jack steps inside he's as dry as when he left The Ark (both the ship and the woman). Releasing the hold on his water magic and letting the door swing shut once again in his wake, he doesn't remark on how empty the bar is but for a raise eyebrow towards the tables. "Explains why it's so quiet," he mutters, referring to the relative telepathic blackout on his approach.
Hopefully it will continue to be that way, but just in case, the Captain has a few members of his own crew hanging around outside; if nothing else they're useful warning beacons should anyone approach who isn't altogether welcome. Locating Flora at her table overlooking the churn of the sea, Jack spares her only the briefest glance as he approaches, boots tapping quiet and hollow on the floorboards.
"One could get the idea you don't want to be seen with me," he drawls, shrugging out of his Kingmaker coat and slinging it casually over the back of his chair before plopping to sit down in a slouch, one leg propped out, ringed fingers already reaching for a glass and the bottle of rum. "See news still travels fast in Torchline." About his return, he means, Jack pausing to pull the cork out of the bottle with his teeth. "Out with it, then. I got another meetin' after this one."
it's not your fault that you're always wrong
the weak ones are there to justify the strong
the weak ones are there to justify the strong
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
