[SE] You think

COLT

The cold that sweeps in suddenly causes her sure step to pause for a moment, the scissors in hand feeling more like ice than metal as the heat leaves them the quickest. More than a bottle chilling trick, it'd seem. Perhaps the steep angle of the stare he threw her should have been indicator enough that she'd overstepped, but her boldness steeped in liquor fights off some of his chill. The fact that he remains, stilling as required, makes it seem like the crawl of ice is one of those downs he mentioned, rather than the startled warning of a man accustomed to keeping his distance. So she returns to her motions, concentration back to the fabric in hand, frosty shears gliding along the material easily. It's only crooked at the end where she crouched too late to extend her reach properly.

"I would not go tacking that title to my name," she laughs as she stands back up and sets the scissors down on the table. "I think anyone can cut a bit of fabric. Kind of like wrapping a present, better to go too long to start and trim from there once you get all the corners tucked in tight." Which is not to say that Colt considers Jack a gift, but he might as well attend looking good enough to unwrap as opposed to whatever the hell Bassian is wearing, which makes her want to throw more onto him instead of the opposite. She lingers, looking up and down at the curtain of darkness fitted to him, reaching out to tug more centered onto one shoulder. Although he looks more like someone who ran out of a haircut too early than a man commanding mystery, at least it covers all of him. Baby steps. "Better than a ballerina," she commends with a final nod, one cheek dimpling with a smile.

"Alright, do me," she asks tells, lifting up the sheerer version of cloth she'd selected. "Just make sure it's doubled up enough that I don't end up flashing the entire party by mistake." She stands straight in expectation, not entirely convinced he won't prick her with a pin by mistake.

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

JACK

"You ain't seen half of this lot try to fix a sail," Jack mutters - anyone might be able to cut a bit of fabric (or canvas, in the case of his crew) but that doesn't mean they can do it remotely well. Granted, he hasn't actually seen the state of himself yet, so Colt is right, and perhaps he's branding her a seamstress far too early in this process. Leaning automatically away from the hand that comes to tug the fabric into place on his shoulder, the captain has still (more or less) behaved as he's fitted with his Ludo cloak, when suddenly it's his turn.

Raising his eyebrows at her obviously - do me, is it? - he takes the voile she's picked out and, with a smirk, folds it appropriately to cover most of the interesting parts of her body. "Surprised you don't want to show off for Vesper," he drawls, voice muffled around a few pins between his lips, the fabric shears in hand as he works to measure out the material.

No seamstress himself, Jack is nevertheless good at fixing sails - and given that he's able to help himself to any knowledge he might need, his hands are sure and his movements swift as he pins the voile in place and snips it to an appropriate length.

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

The lean away from her touch has her pulling her hand back quickly, the reality of overstepping this time too apparent to miss. Ah, well, maybe he'd prefer if Bassian do the final touch ups, risky as the outcome might be, at least it'd have familiarity.

"It'd hardly be for him if everyone can see it." Sly amusement colors her voice, a hint that she's already thought of what exactly she'd be showing off to him come the night of the party. Unfortunately for Jack he gets the sneak peek of it all, since he summoned the storm of Vesper to her mind, though it would have inevitably rolled in like it does every night on schedule with the stars, even with the cloud cover of bad weather working hard to hold them back tonight. There's a promised wall to sink against, a particular smile cutting through the low light with all the shape of her favorite, and the reemergence of fingertip bruising against her hip where the previous ones had begun to fade, the only mark from a man she'd still tolerate. It's all heat and something far too disorderly for her to label, but it glints with the same appeal as buried treasure, something hidden away with the assurance of riches greater than measurement.

She glances down at the work he's accomplished, more deft than her with the snip and slide of a blade. "Look at that," she breathes with surprised satisfaction, having half expected to appear like a sack of potatoes, which is perhaps exactly the kind of look Ludo prefers. "You could run your own tailor shop," she teases with all the intention of returning the seamstress title he'd granted her for some meager pinning and cutting.

She shrugs out of it and reaches for some needle and thread to set stitches in where the pins hold it, sinking into a chair and propping her feet up on another. "You look a lot like him, you know," she says after a moment, glancing up as she pulls one seam taut with a tug, its line messy. "Or I guess, he looks like you," her lips quirk into a slant, trying to find humor in her slip, but it's a hard reminder of his age, something that still nags at her when she lets it, a layer of grime settling in among the shining cache.

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

JACK

"Oh, is that how it works?" Jack scoffs, the beginnings of a smirk curling across his lips before the expression vanishes entirely. Nope. At even the first hint of stormy heat, of fingertip bruising and the flush of feeling that goes along with the sort of acrobatics that require minimal clothing - if any - the captain snaps down his mental shutters against Colt's barrage of thoughts. Props to the cougar, honestly, and he's sure Vesper had a lovely time as well, but apparently there's a step too close for Jack.

Instead, he focuses on his work with the fabric (looks like he'll be able to do his own touch ups to his cloak), straightening only once it's pinned and trimmed to his satisfaction. "Yeah? If you like that, find me a sail to stitch an' I'll really impress you," he drawls, shifting out of his own makeshift cloak and retreating to sit on a barrel and inspect it as well.

"No shit. No idea how that could've happened, what with fatherin' him an' all," he says dryly, eyebrows raised across at Colt as if to ask if she's being obtuse on purpose. "Then again," he concedes, "I s'pose Safrin could've had him look any way she liked. Him an' the girls."

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

She isn't nearly as positive that a giant triangle that needs a patch slapped onto it is as impressive as giving her body shape out of a mess of loose fabric, but she chooses to let him keep his pride on that fact. Maybe he's right, if she did see it in action, it would be something worth commending. As if to remind herself, she throws a quick glance towards the red that currently hangs along the network of masts and ropes, but it doesn't inspire any additional belief.

Tracing borders with string and stitch, Colt laughs faintly in return, unbothered by the edge to his tone. "Plenty of kids don't look so much like their parents," she clarifies with a wayward tilt of her eyes back towards him as she ties off a strand, "gods or not.". It's there in the cut of their face, the brutal sort of confidence that rests on their shoulders, the too blue of their eyes. She meets those now, but there's no mistaking the pair across from her as belonging to Vesper. While both are stunningly bright, crisp with the startling color of something that can grow cold, rimmed in shadow that dulls the shine from time to time, they're entirely different. Jack's look like sunlight filtered through ice, a stretch of tundra surrounded by a sea so depthless it's haunting. Vesper's though, his are stars folded up in daylight, bright despite the darkness that cuts in on the sides, the hint of a vast abyss lying in wait. Similar as they might be, feeling frost close over the surf while you drown feels like an awful way to lose yourself. She'd rather reach into the void, find out what exactly sits in there.

She tips her focus back to her pile on the table, reaching for the fringe and the beads to add a touch of herself to this version of Ludo. "Anyway, it was just a compliment honey," she sighs halfheartedly, like he missed the whole point. Shaking out the dress (?) on her lap, she holds it up to him, "Think this is passable?"

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

JACK

"I s'pose Vesper got lucky, then," Jack says, scoffing under his breath and replacing pins with stitches where needed, keeping the leftovers between his lips so they don't get stepped on by some hapless shiphand later. "Or not," he adds. "Depends on who you ask, I s'pose. Lot of people in Torchline'd say that walkin' around with my face is askin' for trouble." And to that he says don't worry, I'll bring trouble before it can find me.

After stitching his cloak to satisfaction or thereabouts - he plans to have someone make the edges of it ragged, as per Ludo's custom - Jack folds the 'garment' and reaches for the mask template he'd selected earlier. "Oh, was it? Well thank you in that case. I'll send my regards to whoever I got these looks from."

As for Colt's outfit, Jack tilts his head when she holds it up and gives a short nod and a small smirk. "I'd say so," he says. "Then again, when your bar is the Ludo ballerina, ain't hard to make somethin' passable, right?"

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

"Is that what you're blaming it on, your face?" she smirks without looking up, focused on not stabbing her fingers with the needle as she loops it under and around. Sounds easy, but with the haze of liquor on an empty stomach and the dark upon dark upon dark, she's felt its bite come in near warning once or twice already.

One 'brow arches up as he seems to imply his looks came from some place other than his parents. Who knows, maybe he's from the stars too, or perhaps spit out by the sea itself if we're staying on theme here. Maybe all of those sea monsters he's praying against are actually just extended family members, in which case, she completely understands doing whatever it takes to avoid them, sewing and all.

Peering around her held up attire to see his response as much as hear it, as if she can't quite trust the words alone, she nods in acceptance of what he offers. Passable is really all she's aiming for. "You're right, we really should be thanking him," she laughs, the sound bright and sudden at poor Bassian's title. She sighs out a steadying breath as the chuckle dies down, her dress-cloak bundle bunching up in her lap. She tilts her head back a moment, watching the clouds drift by slowly. Her efforts have produced enough for the night, she's can always finish the mask and the sleeves and whatever else later. She has a horse to get back to, after all, and her patience for dodging a needle only lasts so long.

"It's a shame you'll be leaving come morning," she says, seemingly more to the sky than him. "I was just getting used to all your sailors being in town all the time." Her head drops back down, soft smile offered across the way to where he worked on his mask. "They're fun." A lively bunch, to be sure. "Guess I'll have to visit Torchline more often. Who knows, maybe help you one day," she grins, her help liable to worse than his riding if it had anything to do with seas and ships.

"At least I'll know one hidden face among the chaos," she says with a nod towards his outfit, swinging her feet off the chair and rising, boots thumping back on the deck. She really is grateful for that. "Anyway, I'm heading out before the night gets older. See ya around, captain," she says with a flick off her hat, slinging her outfit over her shoulder and tucking her tequila under her arm before sauntering off the boat.

[FIN]

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way