comes and goes in waves

// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //

It’s a few days later from when Jack had visited, a couple of days after Nate’s returned, and the marks on his neck have darkened spectacularly. The governor makes no show to hide them, however, makes no show to say how he’d gotten them either. But he does arrive on the Ark as planned, papers under his arm shoved into a book, directed by some of the crew to a room on the ship.

He’s heard some whisper about a headache, and so Sunjata’s quiet, slipping into the room without so much as a knock. “Hey Jack.” It’s a quiet rumble — Sunjata’s considerate despite all else, as he slips into what he can only find to be quite the intense atmosphere. He scans it for Jack, waiting for some sort of response as he shuts the door behind him and lingers by it in the dark, gaze shifted to the slit steel of his dragon shift.

i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?

SUNJATA

i want to taste you again

He's forgotten to lock the fucking door again. People don't just walk into the captain's cabin, as a rule, and especially when Jack is vulnerable unavailable, he usually makes sure it's not an option to begin with. Easier said than done when someone has apparently put his head in a vice and stabbed a knife through his right eye. Not literally, of course, but they may as well have for how the smuggler is feeling.

When Sunjata steps into the cabin it will indeed be dark, the large windows behind the ornate desk drawn shut. With his dragon's sight the Flood will undoubtedly see a glimmer of trinkets, stacks of books and bottles, papers and maps, netting and lace draped here and there. And from the bunk tucked in the corner, the captain of the Ark himself in nothing but his underwear, the blanket kicked off and his pale face buried in his pillow.

"Fuck," he says through a groan. "This was today? Fuck." No, he doesn't lift his head to greet the governor. "Take a seat anywhere, mate, since you just walked the fuck in."

like a secret or a sin

JACK

// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //

His gaze scans around, something amusing leaking through him at the idea of Jack being more of a dragon than he was, with all these trinkets adorning the walls and desks. Still, the smuggler’s in his bed and Sunjata remains by the door, waiting, because he hasn’t exactly made his arrival quiet. “Of course it was today.” He rumbles offhandedly, but doing as Jack indicates, finding a seat directly at the captain’s desk.

Why? Because he’s the governor and he can do essentially whatever he wants. Like walking into Jack’s cabin as if he somehow belonged there.

“Should try taking something for those, you know.” He rumbles, flitting through the book until he lands on the page he’s selected and his gaze lifts to look at Jack. And if a look lasts a bit longer to see what marks he’s left through the dark, well, it is what it is.

i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?

SUNJATA

i want to taste you again

Of course it was today. Jack grumbles wordless agreement; the Governor's smug thoughts and the easy way he ambles around the captain's space would be enough to spark indignance and action from him if he were in the right sort of state. As it is, even lowering his mental walls enough for the thoughts to feed through hurts, and he buries his face away back in the pillows.

It's much too dangerous to close off Sunjata though, and he sees the Flood in his mind's eye, perching at the captain's desk, flicking through his work - he won't find anything of interest, unfortunately. The book he picks up is nothing more than a plain, boring logbook filled with plain, boring things that the Ark might bring into port, if that were the sort of ship it really was.

"Do you mind?" he mumbles from the safe darkness of the bed, reluctantly peeping up at the governor - enough that he'll see the glorious necklace of dark bruises, of other finger marks on his body. "Nothin' touches 'em," he mutters of the headaches, lazily watching the other man at his desk. In the corner of it, a globe is fastened there, though it doesn't really show Caido. Not the Caido most would recognise anyway.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //

“Do I mind what?” Sunjata questions, shooting playful grin at the captain, shifting in his seat a bit to slide his book over and pick up one of Jack’s. If he’s going to be a shit about it might as well make it worth it, after all. So he flits through this new book, finding nothing particularly of interest, closing it with a quiet snap as his gaze lifts to Jack again, spying the dark circle around the captains neck, one that matches his own in surprising ways. And if there’s a bit of pride and amusement in him, so be it.

So he returns to his own book then, humming thoughtfully under his breath. “No opium or anything like that?” Surely there had to be something, and Sunjata’s previous world had been surprisingly adept at crafting opiates specifically for those pains that couldn’t be ignored. But he lifts a hand to look at the globe now, taking it in as he considers his next words, spinning it as his tongue runs along his teeth. “Anyway, the barrier and the coastal eroding.” He tries to bring them back on subject. “It’ll make it so you have to sail a certain way to get in.”

i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?

SUNJATA

i want to taste you again

Snorting softly, Jack shifts to painstakingly sit up in bed, the pillow resting in his lap as he squints across at Sunjata. "Not a fan," he grumbles about any of the sorts of drug that might kill the pain. "They tend to loosen the tongue a bit too much for my likin'." Slouching against the wall, having to close his eyes against a wave of dizziness and nausea, he nonetheless notices as Jata's fingers move to spin the globe. "Wait, don't--" he begins, but it's too late.

And the Flood will find that the globe isn't hollow, and is a lot heavier than it looks. As it spins, a strange and metallic liquid inside begins to swirl, disrupting the carefully curated isles and other markings. Jack groans, too sore and tired to give much more of an exclamation of annoyance than that, and rubs at his eyes. "Oh, so we're still having the meeting," he mumbled, chuckling, mirthlessly. "A'right, Governor. What kinda way?"

like a secret or a sin

JACK

// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //

A smirk is leveled Jack’s way. “So then you take them when you’re alone or with someone else equally as fucked up.” Gods knew Sunjata barely remembered anything from the times he’d taken it. He’s sure he’s admitted to a great many things, but luckily none had been used against him recently. But he shrugs back to Jack anyway, turning his attention to the globe, brows furrowing as it shifts but doesn’t spin very far, his head tilting quite canine-like as he watches the colors blur and meld together.

“Oh.” He rumbles, quickly retracting his hand to his own book, likely to not fuck with anything else. He returns to the page, the notes kept and remade from the ones ruined in his office from the two of them. “I’m starting it in a few days, I’d rather you have an idea so I don’t blindside you. Sorry I’m not working around your migraine schedule.” A dark brow raises as slit steel meets Jack again. “The plan is to put out groynes. It was either that or a coral reef that surrounds the beach but that would make it tougher for the Ark.” And because Jack’s still sitting on his bed and can’t see the diagrams, Sunjata collects the pages and moves closer, pulling a bench or a stool, anything to sit on in front of the captain. “This plan… Means that if you come in too hard and shallow, you’ll hit them.” So it will benefit you if there’s trouble following you. He almost adds in but refrains.

i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?

SUNJATA

i want to taste you again

"Wow, if only I had thought of that sooner. Thank you, Governor - where would I be without your rare brand of insight?" Jack grumbles, his head still resting back against the wall, his eyes shut. He practically hears the tilt of Sunjata's head, and he'd tut and sass him if he were remotely in the mood. "Oh," he offers instead; an echo of the Flood's own realisation of what he's done.

Luckily that seems to be enough to stay his sticky fingers from any of the other carefully curated items in the captain's cabin, and Jack forces focus on the mental images Sunjata paints about the issues along the coast. His nose wrinkles, of course, as one of those images becomes the Ark gloriously wrecking herself on rocks, and he shudders that away. "That won't be so bad if there's trouble followin' me," he drawls; yes, he knows what he just did.

Peeping an eye open to risk looking at the Governor, he huffs out a tired sigh, gazing down at the diagrams he doesn't really need to see. "How considerate of you," he remarks, and for once there's no bite to his voice. "This you paying back a favour or somethin'?"

like a secret or a sin

JACK

// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //

The grumble is met with a bit of amusement. The captain has made it quite far, despite Sunjata knowing it was all a joke — as much of a joke as migraine Jack could manage. But he’s roaming closer, keeping his hands to himself, until he’s sitting in front of Jack with the book and diagrams spread along his lap, looking up at the captain as he offers his plans.

They’re on the same page at least, Sunjata nodding as he flips to a few different diagrams of options — ones that go straight out and ones that are curved. “Exactly.” He agrees quietly. But as for the next comment, Sunjata shakes his head. “Not intentionally, unless you’re counting it.” A tilt of his lips in a smirk crosses his face. “Part of the deal. Since the monsoon protection will benefit all of Torchline, I have to make it benefit you too even if I make it just a bit more difficult at first.” He explains, an easy, breathy chuckle leaving him.

“I just needed the okay from you.” An olive branch extended, knowing full well that while Sunjata was the one in charge of everything above, Jack was the one in charge of things below.

i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?

SUNJATA

i want to taste you again

"I ain't countin' it if you ain't. Favours from a Governor are invaluable, in my line of work," Jack mutters, inching forward a bit even as the sudden movement makes the world swim in and out of focus for a second. He steadies himself, hands gripped against his knees, and blinks a few times to focus on the diagrams. They're barely visible in the dim light, but Jack makes them out well enough. (Thanks, Sunjata).

Reaching out with a hand less steady than usual, he taps at the curved diagrams. "They'll be a rough old route into port," he mumbles. "But I reckon they're your best bet. Wind don't come in straight as an arrow all that often," he mutters. Its an olive branch that's taken, accepted, a faint smirk curling across the captain's lips. "You got the okay from me," he confirms, slumping back again.

"My guys have left their posts outside your place. Assume that means the wife is back?"

like a secret or a sin

JACK

// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //

“Then don’t count it.” Sunjata rumbles. It doesn’t bother him at present, not when so many other things were bothering him. Jack’s favors sat on the back burner of his mind until the captain brought them up. But he draws silent, shifting enough that Jack can peer down at the diagrams. The tap at the curved one has Sunjata nodding, agreement made as he leans back to reach into a pocket to pull out a pencil, marking the one they’d picked.

He’s gotten the okay, easy enough.

So he leans back now, putting the pencil away, drawing out a cigarette that he lights and moves to hand to Jack, before moving to light his own. “Came home a couple days after.” He offers, gaze flickering over Jack’s skin before meeting the man’s exhausted, pained face. “Thanks again.” Because he’s not too sure what else to add. He’d still seen his father but nobody had alerted to anything, and he’d cocooned himself in his home the days leading from when Jack had left and Nate had returned. Already, he’s lighter because of the homecoming.

i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?

SUNJATA

i want to taste you again

Don't count it, says the governor. So Jack doesn't, merely watching as the Flood marks out the paper they've settled on, and then lights him a fucking cigarette. Honestly, the smoke is more likely to make him sick than anything else, but the gesture is appreciated enough that Jack accepts it, drawing deep on the smoke and exhaling in a long, tired sigh. "No need to thank me twice," he mumbles around it, all business, though an eyebrow arches as he notices Sunjata noticing the marks on his neck.

"Checkin' they're still there or somethin'?" he asks, managing a faint smirk and nodding over Sunjata's shoulder where an ashtray sits on the desk. He might just manage to grab that without ruining something else, he thinks. "Any more spooky appearances from dear old dad?" he says then, knowing the answer but needing to vocalise it nonetheless. "Ain't been a whisper of anyone with his description 'round Torchline."

like a secret or a sin

JACK

// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //

He doesn’t need to thank Jack, but he does it anyway. At least nobody can say he’s never thanked them. But he focuses on the cigarette smoke as it drifts, peering through the cloud of it to notice Jack’s nod, to lean back and peer at what he’s gestured to. An ashtray that Sunjata shifts so he can close the book with the diagrams and set it aside in order to stand and grab the ashtray without touching anything else.

But Jack’s words do alight some amusement from Sunjata, a crooked smirk crossing his face. “Just curious.” Of how dark they’d gotten. The number of marks on Sunjata’s skin were quite dark and numerous, so what if he was curious if he did the same? But he settles, the smile fading as he leans back and shrugs his shoulders, head tilting this way and that — enough that the dangled feather earrings in his ears bump against his stubbled jaw. “Yeah. Nobody was alerted though.” Which Jack would know, so he’s not sure why he voices it.

“I’m just trying to make it though Leafchange and hope it’s just Ludo fucking with me.” He admits, drawing again from the cigarette and holding it in. It’s his birthday this season as well, Sunjata’s mind coping with the idea that it’s some fucked up birthday present, wound up by his brain and a decade past the initial start of his downhill traumas, bundled all together into a man with an iron hardened face.

i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?

SUNJATA

i want to taste you again

Jack scoffs out a laugh at that, drawing again from the cigarette and gingerly leaning forward to flick the ash into the tray that Sunjata has procured. And maybe he moves in such a way that the other man can get a good stare at the bruises, dark and numerous in the shape of teeth and handprints, that mark his skin. "I tell people I won," he murmurs - because looking like this, people will more likely believe a fight than fucking. "You're a fuckin' animal, Governor."

Scrunching his nose and carefully settling himself back against the wall with the pillow in his lap, legs crossed, Jack considers the other man's words with a surprising amount of introspection. "What do your instincts tell you?" he asks slowly. "That the guy's real, or that it's Ludo?" He tilts his head, a flicker of a smirk on his face. "Just curious."

like a secret or a sin

JACK