it's not your fault that you're always wrong
They both leant out over the railing now to look at the ocean, Jack losing himself in the deep black, letting her thoughts paint pictures in his head of a place he had never seen. It did seem particularly... grey, and unpleasant, these Hollowed Grounds. Quite what Aisha saw in them was beyond Jack, but then who knew? Maybe it had a secret sort of beauty (or really good drugs). A smirk curled up the corners of his mouth as she spoke again about Torchline now, Jack ducking his head in a nod.
”Then perhaps on one of those trips you can give the place a second chance,” he drawled, straightening up from the railing, finishing his cigarette and flicking the butt into the water. Turning, he pointed out into the docks, lit only by flickering torches, the ships standing like ghosts all lined up. ”Mine’s called the Ark,” he said. ”I sail in Flowerbirth, but back again for Longheat. That’s when the fun really starts.”
”Then perhaps on one of those trips you can give the place a second chance,” he drawled, straightening up from the railing, finishing his cigarette and flicking the butt into the water. Turning, he pointed out into the docks, lit only by flickering torches, the ships standing like ghosts all lined up. ”Mine’s called the Ark,” he said. ”I sail in Flowerbirth, but back again for Longheat. That’s when the fun really starts.”
