I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
Jack watched as, before his eyes, her injuries melted away. And for the first time in this whole mess, he felt some of the tension relax from his shoulders. They walked along the beach, the Ark a dark silhouette in the distance, and although Eloise's thoughts were utterly unsettled, on the surface she was passable as normal. "That," he said slowly, regarding the Ark and her idea about it being able to fly, "is probably one of the best ideas to come outta your mouth since you set foot on my deck." Sand turned to wood beneath their feet, and they were near enough the only ones around as they meandered along the docks.
"There doubtless are other ways," he agreed. "All the more reason to get back out on the sea, to visit other places and find other ways to do it." He cast a sidelong look at her, blue eyes cold. "Were you even carryin' a weapon when you went out tonight?" he asked.
"There doubtless are other ways," he agreed. "All the more reason to get back out on the sea, to visit other places and find other ways to do it." He cast a sidelong look at her, blue eyes cold. "Were you even carryin' a weapon when you went out tonight?" he asked.
