I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
"Mm, or whatever you can find worth tradin'," Jack said with a smirk, relishing the warmth spreading through his bones from the drink, taking another sip before setting the glass down. He wasn't out to get drunk, especially not around the Arbiter tonight. "If it reminds you of home, you must've had a rough upbringin' as well," he said, barking out a laugh and getting comfortable in his seat. "There's a lot to love and a lot to hate about the place."
As for where he had sailed, Jack's smile turned wicked, secretive even. "Now, Arbiter. You reckon I'd give all that away?" Where the Ark went on her trips, who she traded with, what she smuggled? They weren't quite best friends yet.
As for where he had sailed, Jack's smile turned wicked, secretive even. "Now, Arbiter. You reckon I'd give all that away?" Where the Ark went on her trips, who she traded with, what she smuggled? They weren't quite best friends yet.
