pay your dues

i want to taste you again

Torchline thrives in the shadows of LongNight. Amidst the bonfires on the beaches, the skinny dipping and the clandestine hookups, it's no surprise that the islands' citizens use the week of darkness as an excuse to really let loose. (And let's be honest, they barely need an excuse when the sun is shining). But as fun as it might be to cavort in the sand, when you can't feel shit, there's not much left to do but keep accounts and get to work.

Which is precisely what Jack is doing at the Halenani, despite what those who see him step into the brothel might believe. The captain is prepared for the change of season, for setting sail and putting his last voyage very much behind him. A bell rings overhead as he steps inside, and he tips a wink at the receptionist. The smuggler is dressed in his usual garb (read: eclectic and shabby finery), adorned only by a sleek black cat curled around his shoulders.

He's at the Halenani to deliver a shipment of very fine liquor - his last, until he returns from the sea - and he can't help but glance around as he waits for the receptionist to write the equivalent of a receipt to prove he's done his duty. It's been a while since he's visited the Halenani, and even if he can't enjoy himself, he remembers it well.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Maeve has a lot of things she considers her job at the Halenani. Keeping an eye on those who come in is one of them. At least when she's in the main lounge of the brothel. She recognizes the man who enters despite his disheveled appearance. The young woman reclines on her chaise, sipping from a goblet as she regards him with inquisitive eyes. She doesn't bother hiding the way she looks him over, sizing him up if you will. The inside of the brothel is quiet. Save for the soft music that seems to filter into the room from somewhere with no real source. Most of the other workers are either still in their beds or with clients, making the lounge almost peaceful.

She shifts on the chaise, propping herself up against the plush pillows that cushion her back, "Are you here for business or pleasure?" Maeve finally pipes up, head cocking to the side lazily as her eyes flick from the secretary to the man before her. He could be her first potential client of the day. Not a bad place to start.

i want to taste you again

They say that when someone’s eyes are on you, instinctively you can feel it. And for Jack that’s no less true, but the captain admittedly has some extra tricks up his sleeve. He’s taken in the main lounge and has let his gaze wander over the rows of bottles behind the bar when something prongs at his magic and drags his eyes back to one of the few ladies settled in the lounge. As someone who frequents the brothel, it’s perhaps no surprise that he recognises her as well - but he can’t say he’s ever danced the dance with her.

And it’s real shame, too, because as he returns her scrutiny, sizing her up in turn, there’s a lot to like. A smile curls at the corners of his lips, and he leans a forearm against the counter and accepts his receipt from the receptionist, raising it to her as if that’s explanation enough. ”Business, love,” he says, almost apologetically. ”Not that I don’t think you’d be one helluva pleasure.”

Another glance over her - one for the road, you might say. ”Surprised you’re available to even ask,” he admits.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Maeve discards her goblet as a pout settles on her pretty features. With languid movements, she pushes herself from the chaise, skirts swishing around her legs as she gets her footing. The outfit is barely a dress. Technically it's an undergarment with a corset over top, hugging her tiny waist and hanging off of her shoulders as she approaches. No sense in dressing up when they're only going to take it off, right? His answer is admittedly rather unfortunate. For him and for her.

She stops in front of him, leaning against the counter and tilting her face up towards his, "What a pity." The words are drawled, an accent coloring them as she reaches out and straightens the lapel of his jacket. Her hand drops back to her side once she finishes, "I just got on the floor not long ago. You would have been my first client of the day, but given that you're only here for business..." Maeve clicks her tongue, a teasing smile curling on her lips as she shrugs slender shoulders.

i want to taste you again

He marks her approach with every sway of curves, every peek of flesh (and my, is it on generous display) and flutter of lashes. The receptionist has gone by now, of course, tending to her own duties - or watching and listening, more like. Jack watches the hand that seeks his lapel, testing the waters for any sticky fingers or searching touches, and he lets another smile tug at his lips when he finds nothing untoward in the gesture.

"Aye, it is a pity," he rumbles in reply, blue eyes dropping down the length of her body and into all the places that lace and corsets can't quite hide from his taller vantage point. "Perhaps I'll have to come back and ask for you, when I am here for pleasure." It's an invitation for her name, and then some, if she'd like. "It's been a while since I was given a grand tour of the Halenani."

like a secret or a sin

JACK

She regards him almost warmly. Her eyes shining with something like mischief. Definitely approval. She's seen him around plenty. Knows he comes and goes often. A captain if the rumors are true. "Maeve. You can ask for Maeve." She suddenly reaches into the small bit of cleavage on display, drawing a silver coin from between her breasts. It's warm to the touch and imprinted with a flower of some sort. She passes it to him, "Give the receptionist this and I'll be yours for the evening. Bring me back something pretty and I'll be happy to give you a little discount..." There is a pause and another arched brow greets him as she waits for his name on return.

i want to taste you again

Maeve. The captain has a good memory, but he'll be sure to add this to the bank with special care. Jack is stashing away tidbits of potential experiences that he can enjoy when he does, eventually, get himself uncursed, and this has made itself onto the list with gusto. Raising an eyebrow at the sight of the coin, Jack accepts it, presses it briefly to his lips and then allows it to walk across his knuckles and into the pocket of his waistcoat. He doesn't feel the warmth, of course, but old habits die hard.

"I'll be sure to do just that," he murmurs, straightening up properly from the counter to tuck away the receipt into his pocket as well. "Call me Jack," he says in return, and the tilt of his head invites further curiosity. "Somethin' pretty, hm? What kind of pretty suits you, love?" He imagines jewels and gold dripping from soft skin, and it's a good start if nothing more.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Maeve

Jack. Her eyes dip down to his lips, watching them purse as he presses her calling coin to them lightly. A brief expression of amusement flits across her features as he shows off with his little trick and then tucks the coin away for safe keeping. Maeve is admittedly used to all kinds of attention. Both good and bad. However, it has been some time since she's actually been interested in having someone's attention on her. She wants Jack's attention. At least for the time being. The thing about her job is that she has callers who love her when they're here, doting upon her with words of praise and gifts. They all eventually leave. Either to return to sea or whatever life they have off of the island. If one disappoints her there is another to fill their place. She wants for nothing. At least, that's what she tells herself.

She hums at his question, stepping closer because she can. There is little space between them and she reaches out to toy with the ties of his shirt, twirling them around slender fingers absentmindedly. "Isn't that a broad question," Maeve chuckles softly, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks. "Just like any girl, I do enjoy my jewels. Not many bring me those. How about this.. bring me something that'll last me and something you can rip off with your teeth when you finally come to warm my bed. Does that suit you, Jack?"

Her eyes meet his from beneath her lashes and she smirks, confidence coloring her words as she regards him. It really is a pity he's leaving, but now they both have something to look forward to.

when you are not fed love on a silver spoon
you learn to lick it off of knives

i want to taste you again

What a crying shame about a stupid curse. She moves closer and Jack can't even feel the warmth her body brings, even if he can definitely appreciate the view. Brothels are a place for zero personal space, and even in the lounge area of the Halenani this isn't any different. He'd like to run his hands over her, feeling porcelain skin and and lace that begs to be pulled, like the bow on a particularly tempting present. Alas, the captain will have to wait. Tonight is not his night - and neither are many of the nights to come.

Still, her request is something easy enough to agree to - whether or not it's something he will follow through on remains to be seen. That is between Jack and the sea and the seasons to come. He doesn't say that, of course "I will see what I can do," he all but purrs, not having to speak too loudly with their proximity. "Though I'm afraid If I am gonna get outta here, it will need to be with all of my shirt." Tipping her a wink, he nods down at the fingers twined through the fabric.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Maeve

The reminder makes her pout even as the wink stirs something in her chest. A spark of heat that makes her stomach twists and she sighs, but still doesn't release him. Not yet. Such a shame. "You really aren't being fair to me, you know. Denying me your company and now your shirt." Another heavy sigh and she lifts a hand to his side, sliding over his hip as she tilts her face up towards his. "How am I meant to remember you without some little memento, hm?" Her voice dips into something sweeter. Warmer. Enticing.

He's not staying tonight, no, but there is no reason she can't have a little bit of fun. Remind him what he's missing out on. It's her job, after all. Keep them coming back for more. Make them miss her. Jack will miss her, she thinks. At least, she likes to think so. What's the point of having so many callers if they don't miss her at least a little bit.

when you are not fed love on a silver spoon
you learn to lick it off of knives

i want to taste you again

"Given that I pay for your company, love, I reckon fair's got very little to do with it," Jack drawls in a voice like roughened honey, though there's no doubt that he knows exactly what he is in this game of spider and fly. So as her touch ghosts over him (which he's sure is lovely and all that, but he can't feel shit) and her mind goes to the places he likes best, Jack's in a bit of a predicament. Perhaps that's why he opts for the literal interpretation of her request; rather than leaning in to close the distance between them, Jack steps back.

With deft fingers, he sheds his shirt (leaving him in just the open waistcoat, which is fine - it's got all the important stuff in it) so he can hand it, still warm, across to Maeve. Beneath there are scars, there are tattoos; a body that tells a story that goes far beyond the sea. "Your memento," he murmurs, arching an eyebrow as if to ask her if that will do.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Maeve

Her lips curl and a breath of a laugh pushes past them. He's not wrong. He is paying for her company. This is merely an exchange of goods and services. Even if she enjoys the game. Maeve gazes up at him, waiting for him to make his move and he does move. Just not in the way she was expecting. Instead of a kiss, she's gifted something else entirely as he strips his shirt over his head. Eyes drop down to the now exposed skin and she drinks it in eagerly, licking her lips. My she looks forward to exploring each little dip and divot further. In due time.

Maeve reaches out, taking the shirt from him and making a show of holding it up. It's warm to the touch and smells of the sea and his musk. Delicious. "Maybe I'll wear it for you when you come back." She drawls, draping it over her arm and meeting his eyes once more.

when you are not fed love on a silver spoon
you learn to lick it off of knives

i want to taste you again

"Maybe you will, love," Jack says, tilting his head as he gazes over her and imagines her wearing little more than the sun-bleached linen. "Maybe I'll rip it off with my teeth." Flirting feels too good - it reminds Jack of the reasons why he might want to get rid of the curse that he's shouldered for seasons now.

But regret doesn't make it any more possible to do that right now, and so with a touch of reluctance he straightens up from the counter, carefully buttoning his waistcoat regardless of the fact that there's now nothing beneath it.

"Well, Maeve. Pleasure as it was - and pleasure as it might be when I come back - a sailor's got work to do." Because that's what Jack is. Just a sailor. Nothing more, nothing less - and if you believe that, shame on you.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Maeve

When his eyes slide over her, she knows he's thinking about it. Can feel it in her gut and between her thighs, but she ignores that part. Not when there isn't any sense in lingering on it. Maeve smiles, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she regards the captain, giving him one final look over and tucking away the vision of him for later. "A girl can dream," she sighs, straightening her shoulders.

"Of course. Don't let me keep you as much as I might wish to. May you have fair winds and following seas, Jack." Maeve murmurs, giving him one last smile for the road.

when you are not fed love on a silver spoon
you learn to lick it off of knives