JACK
It was arguably the most boring season in Torchline, and that called for a party. Would it lift spirits? Probably. Would people enjoy themselves? In all likelihood, yes. But it didn't count as a good deed if it was basically a ploy to get shitfaced and meet all the Outlanders worth doing business with now that Deepfrost was upon them. Jack and the crew of the Ark had set up a bonfire and a few tiki torches along the beach; it was chilly, yes, but that was what the fire was for.
There was also music drifting from a few guitars and fiddles, courtesy of the Torchliners already joining them, and the scent of cooking meat filled the air from a barbeque that had been set up nearby. Jack, for his part, was seated on an upturned crate, a bottle of whiskey (half empty) in one hand and a cigarette between his lips. Well, what else where they supposed to do before it was time to set sail again?
There was also music drifting from a few guitars and fiddles, courtesy of the Torchliners already joining them, and the scent of cooking meat filled the air from a barbeque that had been set up nearby. Jack, for his part, was seated on an upturned crate, a bottle of whiskey (half empty) in one hand and a cigarette between his lips. Well, what else where they supposed to do before it was time to set sail again?
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
