it's not your fault that you're always wrong
It was Jack’s first time venturing out since his encounter with a certain Ascended (who had kindly beaten him up, thank you Nate), but a few bruises wouldn’t stop him. And with the majority of his favourite ever people - all two of them - down in the Fingers hunting down monsters or whateverthefuck they were doing, Jack had to make trouble for himself. Hopping down from the Ark’s gangplank, he set off along the boardwalk with the intention of doing just that.
It was just as he headed onto the beach, the shoreline lit by flickering torches (as usual), the bonfires ablaze in the distance, that he spotted a woman admiring the ships bobbing around behind him. ”Party’s that way,” he remarked, bruised face briefly lit up from the strike of a match, Jack lifting the tiny flame to his lips to light a cigarette.
It was just as he headed onto the beach, the shoreline lit by flickering torches (as usual), the bonfires ablaze in the distance, that he spotted a woman admiring the ships bobbing around behind him. ”Party’s that way,” he remarked, bruised face briefly lit up from the strike of a match, Jack lifting the tiny flame to his lips to light a cigarette.
