Roads unknown

I R I S The colorful display that the sun spilled across the shore in daytime was now painted black and gray. The ocean still sang across the rock, calming and familiar. Iris closed her eyes to listen, but she could barely hear it. She wondered if her message had been too vague. Or too ominous? A man like Jack was likely to suspect a trap. She’d prefer for them to meet alone. The moon was bright, highlighting the tireless waves as they approached the shore. The lights blurred, a dull pressure pushing up behind her eyes. She had never been this nervous. She stood up from the rocky alcove she'd been perched in and walked to the shore. Crouching down, she cupped the ocean water in her hands and washed her face. She let the refreshing saltwater run down her neck. Maybe her message was intercepted, and now lay among the numerous reports in her father’s office. Strangely, the thought relaxed her as she began to pace the coast. Jack

i want to taste you again

Illustrious.

Jack likes that word. Illustrious. It strokes his ego in all the nicest little ways, and it's not a word he hears often enough, not on tongues or in minds.

As flattering as the message in his cabin is, however, two things remain abundantly clear, illustrious or not.

Someone has managed to tip their little toes into his personal space to leave a personal message while he hasn't been at home.

And that same someone wants him to come out in the middle of the night alone, so they are either very ballsy, very stupid, or very both.

Jack does, of course. Come alone, that is (and the irony is not lost, on the fact that he also might be very both, were it not for his upper hand in the form of reading fucking minds). And when he does arrive at the Rainbow Road, it's armed to the teeth and with his telepathy tight as a bowstring, prepped and ready for any sign of mischief or misdeed.

Only when he feels nothing nearby, when he's walked the parameters on silent feet, does he seek out the person who has sought him first. And when he finds her - well.

"Usually, I'm offered a drink," he rumbles, the moonlight spilling onto his dark silhouette and painting it ghost-pale. "When people want to make deals with me, I mean."

Iris

like a secret or a sin

JACK

I R I S Iris’ thoughts continued to race across the water, untethered. Events were set in motion and she was unflinching before all that had to be done and still… Jack seemed to be taking an unbearably long time. Sharp eyes kept watch on the surroundings while fingers played with the strings tying her dress tightly around her waist. It wasn’t a practical choice of clothing for such a risky encounter, but Iris reasoned that if one of the most notorious smugglers in Torchline decided to turn on her it was unlikely her knife skills would deter an attack. Better to dress to disarm… Hence the dress’ opening ended just above Iris’ bellybutton. And still, under the long fabric that flowed around her legs, a dagger was bound thin and tight against her thigh. It was a soothing presence. As time trickled on, shadows became more ominous, making her whole body tingle with anticipation. She sensed movement on the sand before seeing it. When she turned to face the solitary silhouette tentative relief washed over her… along with pressing excitement, a sudden spike of joy. Alone, and finally there. She schooled her expression before the moon revealed a man less cordial, and an unfortunate breach of etiquette. Ironically, this was the only time during the past month and a half that Iris didn’t have a bottle handy. Longheat had been a blur of grief, anger and resentment. And the sweet, giddy respite from all three, and more, was afforded to her by the undeniable talents of Torchline’s hard liquor manufacturers. Tonight, however, her head would be clear. ”Earrings weren’t enough to woo you?”, she asked with an incline on the side of her lips. ”I’ll make it up to you, then.” She walked up to him, slowly, ”It’s good to finally meet you, Jack.”

i want to taste you again

He watches her as the moon reveals the two of them in its naked, ghostly light, and Jack looks her up and down. It's less attraction and more a frank evaluation, and his magic plucks the details from her awareness - a knife strapped to her thigh, spikes of grief wrapped in tendrils of anticipation. A bribe to get his attention. A turbulent month. There's a story here, and it's more than merely meets the eye. "Oh, consider me wooed." Jack turns his head, where one of the earrings can be seen glinting in his left ear. "Your note indicated that there was more to be found out here."

Right. He'll believe it when he sees it. "You've already met me," he points out as she draws closer, the smuggler gazing down at her through hooded blue eyes. "At least, you've met where I sleep. Where I keep my personal effects. You've met my ship, too. But I don't think I have had the pleasure of aquaintin' myself with your remarkably sticky fingers. Want to explain why I'm standin' out here in the middle of the night?"

like a secret or a sin

JACK

I R I S She smiled as the ghostly light reflected familiar craftsmanship. The piece from the small red pouch was meant for her, but it suited the smuggler well. And he came asking for more. Good. She had awoken his appetites. “In due course. If you’ve the skill and knowledge to acquire them.” Iris intended to reward him, without a doubt. But he had yet to accept the job, and perform to expectation. It required skill and discretion, and she had little faith in others’ proclivity for both. Those in the clandestine professions she’d had contact with usually stepped too loudly and spoke too freely. Not to mention that their loyalties were always in question. She decided to place her bet on Jack. Supposedly, he was a professional. It remained to be proven. Iris raised her chin as he approached, meeting his gaze. She didn't allow herself to be intimidated by the smuggler’s… understandable frustration. There was something attractive about not having to look down on a man. He had features that she normally wouldn’t consider pleasing but his eyes held a silent threat, eerily light in the darkness. Perhaps the danger was the source of the strange attraction. There were more important matters to think about. She raised her hands. All ten of her sticky fingers in the air right below the smuggler’s eye level. “I have a job for you.” She moved past the topic of trespassing, letting her hands fall back to her sides, and got right to the point. ”I need you to make Iris Acquarone disappear. I hoped a job like this wouldn’t frighten the capable captain.” The name was primarily associated with the Acquarone trading company and Erasmus Acquarone’s numerous altruistic endeavors. Like most things in Torchline, it was an attractive front to cover up his smuggling operations. Erasmus reigned over a relatively small piece of Haulani, but he held it firmly, and his roots ran deep.

i want to taste you again

Awoken his appetites, piqued his interest, or simply made him keen to ensure that whoever had gotten into his cabin didn't get a second opportunity? Jack's reasoning is complex. His eyebrows raise as she speaks; by the look of her, she's barely into womanhood, and yet here she is commanding herself like a would-be client of his. Like someone who has authority - potentially authority over him. A wolfish smile tugs at the corners of his lips, like he finds it amusing.

"Skill and knowledge shouldn't be an issue," he drawls, reaching into the inside pocket of his waistcoat to draw out a cigarette and a matchbook; for the uninitiated, the smuggler is definitely relaxing if he's smoking. All this takes place as she stands before him - the striking of the match, the way the cigarette is placed between his lips, the first drawing on it. He exhales into the air, offering it out to her for a drag.

She glides over her presence on his ship, which is either very smart or very dumb, and they'll figure out which in due course. "I had considered as much," he says. "What kind of disappearance are we talkin' about here? Does Iris Acquarone have a preference for being alive? I remind you that I'm a smuggler, not a mercenary."

like a secret or a sin

JACK

I R I S She recognized the expression on the smuggler’s face, the condescending amusement. He was looking down on her in a different way now, and it made a glint of challenge wash over Iris’ eyes. But then she stifled the sentiment. However much she despised being underestimated, Jack wasn’t one of her mother’s socialites or a dockhand she was having drinks with. There was no room for unnecessary competition in this relationship. It didn’t matter if he underestimated her as long as it didn’t lead him to the unfortunate conclusion that he could screw her over. He didn’t lack confidence, at least. It was quite in character with what she had heard of the man, but didn’t speak in favor of her plan’s crucial element – discretion. She would have to keep an eye on him. Her thoughts were interrupted by a whiff of tobacco. She crossed her arms and watched his fingers glide in practiced movements. The tip of the cigarette lit up with a slight tightening of the smuggler’s lips, glowing red and hot. She inhaled with him. Then, with a slight shake of the head, she turned down his offering. A hand went up and ran through her hair in a long and soothing motion. Was kicking the smoking habit proof that she was strong enough to survive and thrive in the world outside? Perhaps not. But even skewed logic was reassuring when she faced so much uncertainty and doubt that had to be squashed and shoved down deep. The smuggler’s wording amused her, putting her thoughts back on track. “I have a definite preference for staying alive.” A smirk played on her lips. ”But I have to be dead to all who have known me.” Talking in the past tense was strange, but exciting. Spoken aloud for the first time, her plan was finally coming into existence. She started pacing, a restlessness creeping up her spine. Her steps were slow and measured. ”The job consists of two steps. First, we will fake my death. The second part you should have little issue with,” she didn’t stray too far away from Jack, wanting to keep her voice reasonably low. ”You will smuggle me out of Torchline.” Maintaining eye contact, she stopped moving, allowing him to consider her words before offering more details. The wait was marked with obvious impatience.

i want to taste you again

She can keep both eyes on him for all Jack cares - the fact that she's not sure about his skill with discretion is a credit to the reputation he's built for himself. If they're all watching the brash captain, they're not watching the business he's actually conducting in secret. There's a smile curling around the cigarette at her quip and the declining to partake, Jack having almost guessed that he was speaking to the very same Acquarone she was inquiring about, but now it's confirmed.

"That's a damn shame - bein' alive always complicates things," he mutters, though the amusement in his tone suggests it's a quip and nothing more. But then she lays out her plans, her terms of his employment, and he exhales a whorl of smoke that's snatched by the sea breeze and taken elsewhere. "I don't fake deaths as a rule. The smugglin' shouldn't be an issue, provided you tell me where you're aimin' to go," he murmurs. It isn't a no to the first step of her plan; merely an affirmation that she's asking for a lot.

"I'm no fool - I know the Acquarone estate as well as anyone. What're the stakes, if you fuck this up? Who am I gonna have on my heels?"

like a secret or a sin

JACK

I R I S She snickered at his comment, ”So say the great philosophers.” He wasn’t a mercenary, but used correspondingly dark humor. Iris entangled her fingers in her hair, tugging on the strands just like the velvety strings of her dress. She knew they would reach this hill eventually. Common sense dictated that she wouldn’t risk the whole endeavor by underpaying her smuggler. But Jack didn’t know if she had any sense, yet. ”You do both or you get nothing.” The statement was firm. ”As for me slipping up,” she let a clipped and brazen laugh interrupt her, ”Better worry about yourself, Jack.” She’d practiced avoiding the Acquarones’ scornful gazes for the better part of her life, as if in preparation for a final escape. ”All jobs carry risks.” A decidedly vague statement. She sighed. ”This one hangs on you keeping your mouth shut. If you speak so much as a word about this meeting, having met me, or any details of the job itself – you put yourself at risk. There’s also the matter of Erasmus’ bloodhound.” This was the point where her hopes could sink like an anchor. They all hung on the smuggler’s daring. ”My father is good at finding the things you care about and using them against you.” Iris imagined the Ark in flames, lighting up the port like a small sun. ”You’d gain a rival and lose property.” Probably some men, depending on how he handled it. Maybe a limb. She still stood to lose much more. ”On the other hand,” she started with a coy smile, abandoning any harshness in her tone and letting it melt into that seductive look that promised reward. Was it just a method of coercion, or the surfacing of greedy pleasure that erupted from the thought of bridges she was to leave in flames? It was hard to tell. She untangled her fingers from chestnut hair as thoughts strayed away from all the complications, and closed the distance between them, gently reaching for the smooth surface of the emerald in his ear. ”If you do well, you’ll be getting your hands on one of the Acquarone stashes. A considerably heavy load. You’ll find jewels to outshine this one.” She was a bundle of emotions. After all, she never felt quite as much than when she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

i want to taste you again

She's a little firecracker, this one - and swaggering, for one so young. In a lot of ways she reminds Jack of himself at that age, and he doesn't know whether or not he deeply appreciates it, or finds it annoying. Probably both - probably exactly how others felt about him, too. So he merely takes in the words, drawing again on the cigarette, and levels a glance at her that's just dangerous enough to suggest that he has no reason to worry about himself. Not out here, alone, in the dark, with a teenager and a deal on the table.

As for the rest of it? He flicks ash from the glowing end of the smoke, exhaling in a blue-grey sigh. "I've been conductin' business for a long time now, love," he says quietly. "If I'm paid for a job, discretion is a given. Doubly so in my case. As far as the rest of Torchline is concerned, we've never met."

Some people are daring, considering the risks and doing it anyway. And Jack? Jack's daring falls well into arrogance, even if it's tempered by a caution in his execution of plans that would surprise most. If anything, avoiding the Acquarone bloodhound is just more of a reason to take on the job - to prove that he can, that he did. "Sounds like a good reason to minimise those risks by keepin' my mouth shut." Which, as they've already discussed, is a given.

Then she steps closer, reaches, touches. And Jack's free hand flicks out, the glint of a blade in the moonlight resting gently against her hip. He's not sensed anything untoward in her thoughts, but it's always good to maintain a reminder that trust is earned, not given. "We have a deal, on one condition." He raises his eyebrows down at her. "You hire me, you hire me. This happens my way wherever it needs to. No arguments, no tantrums. Otherwise we both end up dead."

like a secret or a sin

JACK

I R I S She nodded at his reassurances, finding herself on the cusp of believing them. It was a skittish breed of confidence, egged on by the fact that he was her first choice. There was also something lurking behind the smuggler’s arrogant attitude. Something that felt like danger and made Iris want to probe further. She met the cold blade marking the edge of Jack’s boundaries, right there on her hip, and let her hand slip away. The look she gave him was not apologetic, but cordial. Tantrums? Now that was just offensive. “I’m not a child, Jack,” was what she meant to say. But those things were better shown than spoken, so she locked her jaw in pensive silence and paced a few steps towards the beach, trying to quell the discomfort that came with the very thought of relinquishing control. Granting trust was difficult when your very existence was to be staked with it. And yet, insult aside, the request was sensible. She sighed. ”I understand.” Tentative agreement, and an incline of the head. ”But first, let’s see how you think. We must leave a body for my family to bury. I’ve left a desperate enough image behind for them to think that I might do something reckless.” Her hand went into the small pouch that hung on her hip. ”I will be bringing my brother’s bow with me. It will be noticed. Also, this.” She pulled out a necklace, silver entwined around a green gem matching the one in Jack’s ear. ”Something Iris might be carrying. How do you propose she should expire? Paint me a picture.”

i want to taste you again

Jack isn't sure she'd like the way he thinks. But then, equally, he reckons she might very much appreciate it. Either way, as the boundary is set and respected, the knife goes away, and he remains in place as she paces out towards the beach. With another inhale of smoke, another flick of ash onto the sand, he hears her out. "Must we?" he asks in response to the question of leaving a body.

"We can if you insist, but that tends to get messier rather than more simple," he points out, glancing from the necklace and then out to the ocean. "What kind of reckless does Iris prefer, love? Does she get on a boat never to be seen again? Does she fling herself from the cliffs where the Aumakua overlooks the sea? Or," he ponders, seeming to catch on that idea, "does she meet with some unsavoury sorts in Rae's Fingers, who kill her for her pretty little gems?"

He tilts his head at the emeralds. "Those would fetch for a lot on the black market. Fenced into the right hands, we could make it so that the family knows they are yours, but they go after the entirely wrong people about it."

like a secret or a sin

JACK

I R I S ”Yes.” Yes, there has to be a body. The Acquarones buried clothing in place of a son when Elias disappeared and Iris has been gnawed by doubt ever since. She wouldn’t risk evoking the same sentiment in Erasmus Acquarone. A sliver of doubt in his mind could be deadly. ”If there was a simple way of going about it, I would have done it myself. And you’d be short a lucrative opportunity.” A smirk appeared on Iris’ face as she watched Jack paint himself into the most profitable position. She was pleased. He was quick. And greedy. The epitome of the Torchlight criminal. An image that brings a healthy dose of wariness to the forefront. He needs to know that betraying her is never going to be the most profitable option. ”Nice picture.” He moved past the suicide scenario quickly enough. Iris wasn’t opposed to a good cliché and had pondered the option, but the insinuation it carried made her want to retch. She had a different idea, one that didn't admit weakness and defeat. ”The Fingers are being watched. And Iris wouldn’t be caught there alone waving her jewels around in the first place. I’m not an idiot.” She waved the proposition off. ”In fact, I’m a very good card player.” She bragged with a casual shrug. ”Good enough to win the password to the Грешников рай.” The repurposed frigate ‘Грешников рай’, better known as the Floating Casino, mostly due to pronunciation difficulties, sails out into the ocean twice a month, carrying the most elite and the most reckless of Torchline’s gamblers into a series of night long high stakes games. This pleasure was afforded to them by Sergei Vladimirovich Sokolov, an outlander who made it big in the gambling business. ”I go in, stake the necklace, along with some other valuables I could plausibly get my hands on, and end up in Sokolov Junior’s little debt collecting room. A fight ensues, I jump off the balcony into the water below.” Appearing to share the fate of the unfortunate wretches who couldn’t afford another ride on the Рай due to outstanding debts. ”Then, you pick me up before I catch a cold and silently row me to safety in a little raft or… dinghy. Think you can do that?” She offered a quick ,rather too innocent smile to the smuggler who was hoping for simplicity.

i want to taste you again

"I'd also be gettin' trashed and havin' a helluva time in the Halenani 'bout now," Jack pops back at her with a shrug. Lucrative is relative. Still, her insistence on a body sobers him a bit, and he chews on his lower lip. Really, it'd be the most simple plan to actually kill her and to hell with the trouble. It's a sentiment that he (obviously) keeps to himself. "Even smart people can be idiots when they're backed into corners," he points out regarding his plan with the Fingers. "An' I know they're bein' watched - I do a lot of the watchin'." Well, Zephyr does. Same difference.

But she offers yet a further opportunity - and Jack almost asks why she wants his opinion if she's got her own plan - but that's all part of the dance, isn't it? And the scenario she paints is a fucking dangerous one to say the least, the smuggler narrowing his eyes as he considers it. He's avoided the Floating Casino since he started playing smart (it's easy to get a password when you might pluck it from anyone's head); too tempting to cheat too hard, to get away with too much.

He knows the ship, though. A smile creeps back across his face. "I know I can do that. Two things, though. First, you're gonna do somethin' for me while you're on board. Card player like you should find it easy. Second, as soon as we get back to shore, Iris disappears." He gestures to her. "Magic, makeup, shavin' your fuckin' head, I don't care. You're gonna look like a deckhand."

like a secret or a sin

JACK