it's not your fault that you're always wrong
The sound that was mumbled into the pillow was hoarse and quiet and yet somehow vicious. Whatever it was Jack had just cursed to Eloise, it evidently wished the worst death upon her. The captain did look small and pathetic, though, and that would only become ever more evident as he curled into the bunk. His navigator's thoughts were a slurring cacophony that he wanted nothing to do with. And yet here she was, clanking into his doorframe and interrupting his profound misery.
"If you'd kindly turn the volume down from piercin', that'd be just peachy," he managed, pulling his face out of the bunk enough to squint across at her. Pale and drawn and gaunt, the blue of his eyes was likely the only colour about him right now. "You aint' got anyone else to bother? I'm busy."
"If you'd kindly turn the volume down from piercin', that'd be just peachy," he managed, pulling his face out of the bunk enough to squint across at her. Pale and drawn and gaunt, the blue of his eyes was likely the only colour about him right now. "You aint' got anyone else to bother? I'm busy."
