Draft Log #2: During

[lucetimods]

Who: Everyone in the draft
What: Day 1-2 of the draft
When: August 25th to August 26th
Where: OUT ON THE OPEN SEA
Summary: It is a good day. You're out on the open ocean enjoying the salty sea breeze, and suddenly- OH SNAP, BATTLE STATIONS...
Rating: Various! PG for violence at the least.

Comments

Cargo Ship: Day 1

[lists_to_port]

[Feel free to find Jack Sparrow somewhere on board the Cargo Ship, which he has not-affectionately christened the HMS Beckett's Mum.

1) Bump into him running an errand for Norrykins.

2) Are you curious about that cargo? So is Jack. Let's lurk near the hold together and get beat up by droids.

3) You are a non-combatant about to be killed by a Third Party Fighter! Jack saves you! Then he ROBS you!

4) You are Leonard McCoy. You hit Jack for stealing your Thin Mints. Jack gives you a Jar of Dirt.

5) You are Raine Sage. Jack gets his compass back.

6) You are Buffy Summers. You probably slap him for something. Then you kiss him.

7) YOU ARE SOMEONE NEW AND SHINY. SURPRISING THINGS HAPPEN WHICH I CANNOT PREDICT!

options 2 and 6 in a combo meal please. early morning?

[slaying]

Buffy took a long drink from a canteen of lukewarm (but clean) water. And then she tucked that canteen away under a backpack that the Slayer stored underneath the cot in her tiny square of a room that passed as 'quarters'. Upon arrival, she had been quick to find the pirate and make him aware of the fact that whatever his initial quarters were, they were to be abandoned. Hers were now his. Slayer's privileges, after all. He had been the one to coin the phrase.

"You're not happy," she told the man as she started on her best impression of a sailor and tied a bandanna up around her hair. It was more fashion than function, really. But it held the hair back from her eyes.

"School guidance counselor for a few months, remember? I can tell when someone's unhappy."

07

[lists_to_port]

One final knot secured Jack's bandanna. He kept his seat on the edge of their bed as he reached for the shirt that was balled up on the floor; so unlike his usual neatness.

"Unhappy? Nah, love. Just...adapting."

[slaying]

"...But in the wrong direction?"

She reached out for his shirt -- tugged it firmly from his hands -- and thudded the wrinkles out against one of her knees. Like beating a rug. Then she gathered the fabric up in her fists and pushed the head-hole of the shirt over his pirate-y mane.

"The voters were out of their heads. You should've had a ship. Horatio and Norrington haven't even been drafted before." Sure, she had cast her support for these other two captains but only as the second and third choices to a man who'd been on nearly as many of these follies as she had been.

[lists_to_port]

"Buffy, it's very likely I've robbed half of those people at gunpoint. Why should they vote for me, eh?"

The wrong direction, he decided, had been agreeing not to maraud anymore. The wrong direction had been signing on as first mate under a man who once hanged pirates high.

"Should've signed on as able seaman," he mumbled as she dressed him. "At least then I might have.....Bugger, Annie----can dress myself, you know."

[slaying]

So she let go of the shirt and she stepped widely back -- lifting her arms in one sharp shrug and then crossing them over her chest.

"Because you're the devil they know." She wondered how close it had been. Perhaps she could ask Caesar upon their return -- she was too interested in it, probably. It was all said and done now. Now turning back.

[lists_to_port]

"Buffy, 'I can dress myself' does not mean 'away with you, wench.'" The shirt finally got yanked down, the buttons all done up askew. "Instantaneous trust in Hornblower, apparently; lad's barely been here a season and has half my time at sea. One of those faces, I suppose. And Kennedy to chat him up with the locals. Still--beats politics at the Brethren Court.

Have you seen my hat?"

[slaying]

"I should've just voted for you three times. Probably not allowed, though." She still hung back, shoulders leaning against the wall until..."No. Screw not allowed. That ballot box should've been stuffed for the good of the whole damn mission. War's not supposed to be a democracy." This she was sure of. Trust a leader like Buffy whose command at home was only now and then questioned to have such conviction over who deserved what.

After a brief respite from her own attitude, she pointed at the foot of the bed. There the hat sat, upside down on the floor.

[lists_to_port]

"What's done is done; they've done what's right by them, and the vote was close enough. At least while riding Beckett's Mum I can keep an eye on yourself and Bones. And now you've got a Navy Man, eh?"

He laid the hat carefully on the small, spare table beside the bed.

[slaying]

"You've got the wrong sister. I'm not the one looking for a Navy Man. Not at all."

She watched the hat and not him.

[lists_to_port]

"'S unfortunate, because that is apparently what you have." He stood up and made his way to the door. "Matches better though, eh? Gibbs was a navy man before he drank himself out of it."

[slaying]

"It's a few days. A week at most. And then you'll no longer be a navy man and I'll be back on land and this? This'll be behind us."

Except..."You could've said no."

[lists_to_port]

"He was...persuasive." And it would be a long time before Jack Sparrow got the taste of this humiliation out of his mouth. Serving under Norrington. He tried not to picture Gibbs's expression at the idea.

[slaying]

"Jack..."

She held an arm out to him -- one last bit of affection, she thought, before they left the small room behind.

[lists_to_port]

"Mmmmm?" It was hard NOT to step closer to her, considering the size of the room; nervous fingers finally settled at her waist.

[slaying]

"Be honest. I know it doesn't come so naturally to you as it does the rest of us but let's give it a go. Me, right? I'm on a boat. Right now. Because I have to be -- because the situation demands it.

But am I a sailor, Jack?"

She watched him and tried not to blink for as long as possible; she waited for the answer she suspected while priming her big rhetorical clincher on the tip of her tongue.