I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
"Good. She's a fantastic fuck," Jack said casually; as she didn't push the matter about his telepathy any further, he continued towards his cabin and held the door open expectantly for her. He kept those images, too, for later enjoyment. Jack was nothing if he was not a seeker of his own pleasure. Pausing to gaze down at his suddenly burning hands, turning them this way and that, he glanced up again to the spot where he knew Eloise's magic condensed around her.
"I appreciate it, but I've a reputation already well established. Throwin' some random magic into the mix just now will just confuse people. But things happenin' just... independently? Spooky shit." Jack was cemented in Torchline as a capable captain who always seemed to get out of situations that should really have killed him or worse. That would do for now.
"I appreciate it, but I've a reputation already well established. Throwin' some random magic into the mix just now will just confuse people. But things happenin' just... independently? Spooky shit." Jack was cemented in Torchline as a capable captain who always seemed to get out of situations that should really have killed him or worse. That would do for now.
