JACK
”Only if you do first.”
The feet that drum along the boardwalk halt in time with Aurelia’s hand finding the knife, like a dance where only one of them knows the steps. He has paused under the convenient light of one of the nearby torches, and in deep shadow and golden flame, a rather unimpressive man (on the surface, at least) gives his appraisal.
Jack has not been having the LongHeat he deserves, in his not so humble opinion. Arriving back with a ship half blown to bits, nearly capsized by ghost whales and tempests, this season is intended as a well earned rest - emphasis on the rest. Only it’s not - there’s a sickness raging through the populace, and the Hanged Man has been ruined by monsoons.
Oh, and the deal he’s been striking for the past hour has just been toppled by the screeching of some harpy fresh off the portal. Hence his approach; if someone’s going to upset his night, he’s damned well going to upset theirs right back.
But look at her, both physically and telepathically speaking, tells him everything. ”Fuckin’ Outlanders,” he grates, rubbing at the scruff on his chin. Forcing a saccharine smile, he dips into a roguish bow. ”Welcome to Torchline, darlin’. Now fuck off.”
The feet that drum along the boardwalk halt in time with Aurelia’s hand finding the knife, like a dance where only one of them knows the steps. He has paused under the convenient light of one of the nearby torches, and in deep shadow and golden flame, a rather unimpressive man (on the surface, at least) gives his appraisal.
Jack has not been having the LongHeat he deserves, in his not so humble opinion. Arriving back with a ship half blown to bits, nearly capsized by ghost whales and tempests, this season is intended as a well earned rest - emphasis on the rest. Only it’s not - there’s a sickness raging through the populace, and the Hanged Man has been ruined by monsoons.
Oh, and the deal he’s been striking for the past hour has just been toppled by the screeching of some harpy fresh off the portal. Hence his approach; if someone’s going to upset his night, he’s damned well going to upset theirs right back.
But look at her, both physically and telepathically speaking, tells him everything. ”Fuckin’ Outlanders,” he grates, rubbing at the scruff on his chin. Forcing a saccharine smile, he dips into a roguish bow. ”Welcome to Torchline, darlin’. Now fuck off.”
