[voice | commentlog]

[bringmyhorizon]

[the communicator clicks on. at first it seems like it might be accidental, judging by the quiet, unintelligible murmuring, but after a few seconds, Jack speaks, and it's obvious that he's already bored.]

..'ow long am I meant t' be doin' this?

[there's a jingling of what sounds like keys, and then a bit of rummaging. pilfering, if you will.

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[frenzied_ballad]

[is just...sitting on the floor of his cell. Pretty obvious that he isn't enjoying who they stuck him with]

[looks up at the jingling] ...?

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[bringmyhorizon]

[like the pirate he is, he's opening and closing the drawers in the closest desk to Sweeney's cell, pocketing anything of interest to him, each time with a glance over his shoulder. the jingling, it seems, appears to be coming from the modern-looking set of keys resting at his hip with all of his other trinkets.]

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[frenzied_ballad]

. . .

[his sheer presence is making Sweeney's blood pressure rise, tomfoolery aside]

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[bringmyhorizon]

[taking no notice of the other man, Jack continues to shuffle things around in the drawers, pocketing a few more things before he suddenly turns and sits down in the nearby chair, kicking his boots up onto the desk. He tilts his chair back onto its hind legs and reaches to tilt the front of his hat up with two fingers.]

...Right, mate.

[he speaks without even looking at Sweeney, seemingly more interested in the dirt under his nails.]

Tell me why you are here.

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[frenzied_ballad]

Why?

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[bringmyhorizon]

You've nothing else t' do, unless you plan on starin' at the wall for 'owever long you plan t' stay in 'ere. An' I can tell you, mate, it'll drive a man crazy if you stare long enough.

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[frenzied_ballad]

[he's had fifteen years worth of practice, so it doesn't really matter to him]

Murdered a child.

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[bringmyhorizon]

[Jack seems unimpressed, as if this is old news. He closes his eyes, rolls his head in a bit of a nod, and waves his hand all at the same time.]

Aye, yes, we all know that. But why are you 'ere. What is your reason? Ne'er in my life 'ave I 'eard of a man what wanted to be locked up.

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[frenzied_ballad]

[hollowly] Because it is needed. Murderers should not be able to roam about, free. Isn't that how a society functions?

[there is a hint of cynicism in his tone]

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[bringmyhorizon]

[the corners of his mouth turn up in a smirk and he glances towards the cell out of the corner of his eye. absently, he reaches out to snatch up a pen from the desk, experimentally pressing on the end.]

You're askin' the wrong man about 'society', mate.

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[frenzied_ballad]

That was my impression, at any rate.

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[bringmyhorizon]

An' what of your wife?

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[frenzied_ballad]

...

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[bringmyhorizon]

[tips his head when he gets no response and lifts his boots from the desk, letting his chair fall back down onto all four legs. he gets to his feet, tosses the pen aside, and saunters closer to the cell door, eyes roaming.]

Or 'ave you not thought o' her an' 'er... fragile state?

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[frenzied_ballad]

[silent with a distant gaze]

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[bringmyhorizon]

[he's not going to push for answers just yet, because frankly, he's not really that interested in Sweeney's wife or whatever the barber has to say right now. he's far more interested in the cell, if the way his eyes keep drifting to the hinges are anything to go by.]