JACK
Jack's brows flinch into a puzzled frown, then, the hints of the Caido equivalent of lol what on his lips, because no part of worming his way into Torchline's government has coincided with having idle chit-chat with her queen. Instead, he merely takes another slow drag on his cigarette, gaze flicking down towards her as she leans just a bit forward in her seat. "Oh, whatever could it be," he murmurs, his voice vaguely sing-song as he exhales a breath of smoke. The thing that gets so ruffled at dealing with her, he means. He has no clue, truly. Just one of those mysteries of life.
"An' if all those advantages are ones still available to you without me, how come shit is still in fuckin' shambles?" he wants to know, raising his eyebrows at her. His tone has shifted, perhaps imperceptibly, towards that of a hardened criminal who had dropped strings with the full impression of having them snatched up by the next greedy go-getter with half a brain. "Ain't you had one lickspittle come creepin' to ask you for your favour in gettin' the undercity beneath their thumb? Ain't you thought to do it yourself?"
Or has she been sitting on it quietly, in the hope that someone with blue eyes and a bad temper would sail home and pick up the slack for precisely this sort of meeting? He doubts it - but he doesn't doubt it all that much.
"Healthiest I've been in years," he assures her about The Ark, his response too quick to feel calculated, and one that will leave her truth ring cool against her finger. "An' she far from hates you on principle - she remembers every step you took on her deck, an' everythin' else besides."
But then Flora is flexing her new magic, and Jack's gaze flicks sidelong to watch the scene with the Blackfox play out, the Captain falling quiet to absorb the information for what it is. He exhales a quiet, tense sort of breath as understanding dawns, straightening in his seat for the first time to roll his shoulders. "Some of those caches were mine," he mutters. "Didn't consider some ghost ship to be the problem, though. That's a pain."
"An' if all those advantages are ones still available to you without me, how come shit is still in fuckin' shambles?" he wants to know, raising his eyebrows at her. His tone has shifted, perhaps imperceptibly, towards that of a hardened criminal who had dropped strings with the full impression of having them snatched up by the next greedy go-getter with half a brain. "Ain't you had one lickspittle come creepin' to ask you for your favour in gettin' the undercity beneath their thumb? Ain't you thought to do it yourself?"
Or has she been sitting on it quietly, in the hope that someone with blue eyes and a bad temper would sail home and pick up the slack for precisely this sort of meeting? He doubts it - but he doesn't doubt it all that much.
"Healthiest I've been in years," he assures her about The Ark, his response too quick to feel calculated, and one that will leave her truth ring cool against her finger. "An' she far from hates you on principle - she remembers every step you took on her deck, an' everythin' else besides."
But then Flora is flexing her new magic, and Jack's gaze flicks sidelong to watch the scene with the Blackfox play out, the Captain falling quiet to absorb the information for what it is. He exhales a quiet, tense sort of breath as understanding dawns, straightening in his seat for the first time to roll his shoulders. "Some of those caches were mine," he mutters. "Didn't consider some ghost ship to be the problem, though. That's a pain."
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!
