full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane
It was late and docking a ship filled with stolen goods and contraband was not the sort of expedition that took five minutes. But his contacts had been in touch, the guard on the dock had been bribed, the crew was out from under his feet, and his stock was well on its way through Rae's Fingers by now. Jack, deeply tanned and tired and a little landsick, wanted only one thing - a large, strong drink of whisky and a fiesty woman's legs locked about his hips. The familiar stars above his head were a comfort, but not as much as as the hum and bubble of thoughts from those at the Hanged Man.
Raking a hand through his hair and trudging up towards the door, it was something curious that caused Jack to pause, his hand upon the bleached wood.
One of these things was not like the others.
Blue eyes flashed sidelong to a table nearby, illuminated (barely) by the torches. Sitting at it, he saw, was a man who looked as though the world had chewed him up and spit him out again (but didn't they all?). A man muscular enough to crush him, likely, in a moment of anger. A man who was far too sober, and who wanted to meet with him. Above all, though, it was a man with a bottle of his favourite vintage.
He was silent as he dropped into the seat opposite Remi, tapping an absent finger along the table. "Call me Jack," he said gruffly, nodding at the bottle. "Heard you're lookin' for me. That drink'll be a good start."
Raking a hand through his hair and trudging up towards the door, it was something curious that caused Jack to pause, his hand upon the bleached wood.
One of these things was not like the others.
Blue eyes flashed sidelong to a table nearby, illuminated (barely) by the torches. Sitting at it, he saw, was a man who looked as though the world had chewed him up and spit him out again (but didn't they all?). A man muscular enough to crush him, likely, in a moment of anger. A man who was far too sober, and who wanted to meet with him. Above all, though, it was a man with a bottle of his favourite vintage.
He was silent as he dropped into the seat opposite Remi, tapping an absent finger along the table. "Call me Jack," he said gruffly, nodding at the bottle. "Heard you're lookin' for me. That drink'll be a good start."
