(SE) when it lands

SUNJATA

the flood

A small half snort is given back to Jack. He supposes the captain’s got him there, at least, and with it he toasts back and takes a sip, working around Seven’s tail as it flicks around his chin. Still, he continues to scratch her regardless, focus finding itself easily within him on Seven to replace the prior anxieties. A distraction, he supposes. As his question is answered with the sear cat’s name, he snorts, nods slightly as if it might make sense to him.

It doesn’t.

But his gaze flickers back toward Jack as he sets the glass on the counter and can’t help but to keep the amused half smile on his face regardless. “I plan on staying.” He offers honestly, taking a moment to pause and consider his words, teeth pulling at the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Ever since the portal opened I haven’t wanted to be anywhere else.” It was the perfect place, one that he fell into quite well as far as he was concerned. And with the Advocates headquarters moved here, well, there really weren’t any reasons to leave except for the rare occasion – like the room in the Grounds or Diplomatic feats. “Halo’s too fucking cold and the Grounds is shit.” His steel gaze returns to Jack, his smile shifting toward something close to a crooked grin.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

JACK

Regardless of how the conversation moves on, Seven continues to loll bonelessly against the Governor's shoulders. She paws gently at his ear when his scritches slow, and offers insight into their talking with reiterations of her name, or of portal or soft - whatever limited words she feels like spitting at them to be annoying, really.

Jack doesn't expect to relax to hear that Sunjata doesn't intend on going anywhere. Mostly it's the knowledge that his investments will be worth it; that he isn't doing all this work just for another ungrateful Outlander to fuck off into the sunset. But there's also a selfish bit of him that's rather glad to have a dragon watching over the islands. About fucking time, or something to that equivalent.

"I'll drink to that," he says with a snort on the other man's appraisal of the other lands. Raising his glass, the smuggler will clink it against Jata's and settle in to forget about what happened with a liberal amount of booze.

~FIN