I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
Nicest fucking brothel Jack had ever been in, that was for sure. The captain glanced up and around, taking in everything about the place. Damn, it even smelled fancy. He felt a smile start to curl across his lips, feeling himself being able to make himself quite at home here. Especially given that he would be spending the next season at sea.
Then he saw that demon on the counter and instinctively took a step back again, blue eyes narrowing fiercely. Sear cats and Jack? Not a good combination. The Ark had one once, but he’d pissed it off, and it had refused to predict storms for the ship. And here he was, catless.
It was a good thing the proprietress appeared a moment later, Jack glancing up and trying to ignore the furry monster. ”Call me Jack,” he said. ”Quiet about, isn’t it? Or is that just good soundproofin’?”
Then he saw that demon on the counter and instinctively took a step back again, blue eyes narrowing fiercely. Sear cats and Jack? Not a good combination. The Ark had one once, but he’d pissed it off, and it had refused to predict storms for the ship. And here he was, catless.
It was a good thing the proprietress appeared a moment later, Jack glancing up and trying to ignore the furry monster. ”Call me Jack,” he said. ”Quiet about, isn’t it? Or is that just good soundproofin’?”
