it's not your fault that you're always wrong
”I hope you don’t,” Jack said, snorting and shifting to sit up properly, dusting the sand off his hand on the knee of his pants. There was a familiar twang of longing in his own expression, and it was unclear whether it was an echo of Eloise’s thoughts or his own need to get back out on the ocean.
”I have my moments,” he said on the subject of being a gentleman, though it was unlikely that Eloise had ever really experienced one of those moments. He took the flask back and lifted it to his lips, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. ”Why not other lands?” he echoed. ”Maybe we’ll find a new island.”
”I have my moments,” he said on the subject of being a gentleman, though it was unlikely that Eloise had ever really experienced one of those moments. He took the flask back and lifted it to his lips, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. ”Why not other lands?” he echoed. ”Maybe we’ll find a new island.”
