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."
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."
like a secret or a sin
JACK
