I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
Jack let out a snort at her description of the man he had met outside the Hanged Man; in reality he was reacting to the prospect of them being alike (overly dramatic much?) but of course Raza wasn’t to know that. ”He sounds like an absolute delight,” he said, accepting the trade back of cigarette for rum. ”He mentioned wantin’ to let me know which side he was on when it came to these portal Outlanders. The guy’s good at bribes, I’ll give him that much.”
The shoving match had turned into a sloppy brawl in front of them; whilst entertaining, Jack did give Raza a nudge with his elbow. ”You’re gonna want to move,” he advised; if not it was likely that one of the idiot brutes would careen into her. Foresight and all that. And Jack didn’t want to have to stamp someone’s teeth out today; he was having a relatively good morning.
”Oi - my ship is perfectly lovely right now,” he objected. Or it would be once he’d had the men scrub it too to bottom. ”That sort of talk can be offensive to a man and his ship.”
The shoving match had turned into a sloppy brawl in front of them; whilst entertaining, Jack did give Raza a nudge with his elbow. ”You’re gonna want to move,” he advised; if not it was likely that one of the idiot brutes would careen into her. Foresight and all that. And Jack didn’t want to have to stamp someone’s teeth out today; he was having a relatively good morning.
”Oi - my ship is perfectly lovely right now,” he objected. Or it would be once he’d had the men scrub it too to bottom. ”That sort of talk can be offensive to a man and his ship.”
