battle dancing unicorns with glitter

don't you know we're outlaws

givin' the finger to death itself

Ah, yes, the politics of the The Ark. Half amusing and half eyeroll-inducing, they sound like a bunch of teenagers most of the time. I want to ask what Saiden does that goes above and beyond his job description, but I don’t want to listen to the rant. Chuckling at his comment about Saiden’s usefulness, I agree. “That’s what I thought, but ya never know. Maybe he’ll remember that suggestion one day.”

So now that we’ve reached a point where both the Ark and the Hanged Man are nearby, I remember that there’s business to be done. Personal and professional, if you know what I’m saying. Casting a sideways glance at Jack, I reach out and give him a little (flirtatious, but I’d never admit to it) push on the shoulder. “Go take a shower and eat and then come find me at closing. I want to know what we’re movin’ an’ when.”

Amongst other things.

we got no one to hide from

no one to toast our health

RAZA

Base Code by Sky!

I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art

”Maybe he will, but I ain’t countin’ on it. Boy’s got a head full of sand,” Jack muttered, snorting and shaking his head. Raza was a wise woman and he knew that already, but her preemptive decision not to provoke a rant from him brought a smirk to his lips. He did her the grace of stumbling a bit as she pushed him (the woman was worth her weight in gold, he swore it), and nodded his acquiescence.

”It’s a date,” he drawled, offering her a lazy salute before stepping away towards the dock. A shower with company sounded better, in his opinion, but he had little doubt that he could find some of that even before he went to visit Raza again that evening.

~FIN