it's not your fault that you're always wrong
”If you don’t quit your sticky fingers, one day you’ll be buried under this beach.” Jack’s tone, while cheerful, held a hint of playfully familiar menace from somewhere behind Eloise. The captain strode barefoot across the sand to her, slumping down to sit beside her with his eyes on the sunset. ”Figured that you couldn’t see in LongNight without my flask, eh?”
Leaning back on one hand, he held out the other expectantly in the hope that she would have left him at least a sip. It wasn’t endless - not yet, anyway - but that was no excuse for rudeness from his navigator.
Leaning back on one hand, he held out the other expectantly in the hope that she would have left him at least a sip. It wasn’t endless - not yet, anyway - but that was no excuse for rudeness from his navigator.
