it's not your fault that you're always wrong
It had been weeks at sea and a good, long time at port, so this was overdue.
Jack's migraine hit him like a sledgehammer to the temple, and the captain of the Ark had not made it out of his cabin that morning. Unlike the rest of the crew, he did not treat 'shore leave' as literally as they did. The Ark was Jack's baby, and he would not leave her unattended for even a night if he could help it.
That being said, his cabin made it worthwhile when it was compared to the rest of the crew sleeping quarters. With a large window (currently drawn with heavy curtains) out onto the open ocean and a decent sized desk and bunk, Jack practically lived in the lap of luxury aboard his ship.
The cabin was full, too, of all manner of oddities and collected items; scrolls containing numerous maps, some of which would not appear in traditional navigations; a trunk filled with colouful and eclectic clothing; a silk stocking; a glass eye; a strange puzzle cube best left untouched. It would take longer than was worthwhile to explore it all.
Jack, though, obviously wasn't interested in his treasure trove at present. No, the smuggler was face down in his bunk, his head buried in a pillow, doing his best to ignore whatever the world outside was doing.
Jack's migraine hit him like a sledgehammer to the temple, and the captain of the Ark had not made it out of his cabin that morning. Unlike the rest of the crew, he did not treat 'shore leave' as literally as they did. The Ark was Jack's baby, and he would not leave her unattended for even a night if he could help it.
That being said, his cabin made it worthwhile when it was compared to the rest of the crew sleeping quarters. With a large window (currently drawn with heavy curtains) out onto the open ocean and a decent sized desk and bunk, Jack practically lived in the lap of luxury aboard his ship.
The cabin was full, too, of all manner of oddities and collected items; scrolls containing numerous maps, some of which would not appear in traditional navigations; a trunk filled with colouful and eclectic clothing; a silk stocking; a glass eye; a strange puzzle cube best left untouched. It would take longer than was worthwhile to explore it all.
Jack, though, obviously wasn't interested in his treasure trove at present. No, the smuggler was face down in his bunk, his head buried in a pillow, doing his best to ignore whatever the world outside was doing.
