JACK
The bitch was up to something; Jack had gotten that inkling from the way she seemed to actually... act as if she had plans, purpose, whatever you wanted to fucking call it. There was very little to do, honestly, with Deepfrost rolling in, but the captain enjoyed mornings aboard the Ark, and people watching was a favourite pastime of his. So it would be that Eloise's call drifted across the ship, followed by more than one catcall.
Glancing over his shoulder and tossing the peel from the orange he'd just finished eating into the slapping waves, he gazed at her flatly over the sunglasses he wore, wondering what this was supposed to be. She did have him by the balls, though it wasn't in the way the crew might expect (or he might, in retrospect), but he did give her the courtesy of a very decent look up and down, tongue running across his teeth.
"Get outta that shirt," he said as he crossed the deck to her; one meaning for the men - strip off, darlin' - and another entirely for Eloise - stop wearing my fuckin' clothes.
Glancing over his shoulder and tossing the peel from the orange he'd just finished eating into the slapping waves, he gazed at her flatly over the sunglasses he wore, wondering what this was supposed to be. She did have him by the balls, though it wasn't in the way the crew might expect (or he might, in retrospect), but he did give her the courtesy of a very decent look up and down, tongue running across his teeth.
"Get outta that shirt," he said as he crossed the deck to her; one meaning for the men - strip off, darlin' - and another entirely for Eloise - stop wearing my fuckin' clothes.
