I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
Jack personally didn’t have any problem with drinking alone, but fuck if she wasn’t right about the Halenani - it was a place one came, especially if the thoughts that suddenly began to drift into the periphery of his telepathy were serious about what they were all about. (The captain suspected that they were). He followed Phoebe through both floors, blue eyes taking in the offerings of both men and ladies, nodding along at her choice of price - reasonable, indeed.
More than anything he was here to scope the place out - they could do more than just the typical type of business, if the young Madame wished to strike a deal, and being in league with someone sponsored by Frey was always a plus for Jack. But since he was here anyway, he may as well sample what was on offer. ”You know, you may have a point,” he murmured, catching the eye of a petite redhead he was sure he’d seen before, and the images plucked from her mind only confirmed it.
He nodded to her. ”Night’s young. I think I’ll start here.” He grinned.
More than anything he was here to scope the place out - they could do more than just the typical type of business, if the young Madame wished to strike a deal, and being in league with someone sponsored by Frey was always a plus for Jack. But since he was here anyway, he may as well sample what was on offer. ”You know, you may have a point,” he murmured, catching the eye of a petite redhead he was sure he’d seen before, and the images plucked from her mind only confirmed it.
He nodded to her. ”Night’s young. I think I’ll start here.” He grinned.
