Jack Harkness || Death Four || Canteen
[It had taken him almost a full day just to grow his skin back, like something here was hindering what ought to have been automatic. It... Was frightening, and relieving at the same time. Maybe, if they get sucked into the black hole, he'll only be forced to survive for a few thousand years being pulled apart and reconnected over and over again
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They were trapped on a sinking ship. That was the only way Horatio Hornblower could make sense of the situation. He'd holed himself up in his cabin for most of the previous days, venturing out when he needed food-- or his lieutenant insisted he did-- and when a few notes had caught his eye.
Mostly, he'd been focusing on the equations he'd gotten. "Escape velocity." He didn't understand everything, but between a bit of research on the computer and his own sense at mathematics, he thought he might be getting a handle on the numbers. What they meant, he didn't know. But perhaps he could take the figures to someone else.
...And then the strange device piped up with a familiar voice.]
Harkness?
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[Silly to flirt over the comm like this, but what's Jack without an overly healthy dose of the stuff to slightly over the top levels? He's got this reputation of being a playboy to uphold!]
Let's see. We've got some powdered pasta and some powdered meat which I can likely make into balls. [No pun intended.]
Do you like Italian?
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I don't believe I've ever tried their cuisine.
I'd be happy to do so, though.
[After all, it wouldn't do to refuse the offer when he'd suggested himself that they dine together.]
I'll meet you in the galley, then? [Galley. Canteen. Where the food is.]
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[Jack turned off the feed, grinning to himself, and turned back to the canisters of powdered food. He knew how these things worked. Little water, little powder, the proper dish and a bit of time in the machine and--
All right, it's still mush. But after a taste, Jack decides it tastes just fine. Good enough. If only they had drippy candles?]
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His uniform is immaculate-- which may have something to do with the delay in arrival. If he was to meet a fellow captain for a meal, he was going to look his best. Not that Hornblower didn't already believe in trying to always look his best. But this called for it even more.
He reached up to touch his hat in greeting-- which he didn't have. The one piece of his uniform missing. But he could bear that.]
Good-- I suppose it's morning? There must be some way to get a fix on the hour, really.
[A man who lived his life by ship bells and schedules? Not happy about not having any certain hour.]
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[Jack's already plated the oddly colored mush and is sitting around the table, waiting for his 'guest' to arrive.]
I don't think it actually matters all that much. Time's a bit relative in space.
[He pats the spot across from him with a smile. Jack's not dressed formally at all in a pair of slacks and braces and a military style shirt with done up sleeves.]
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He eyes the mush, but has, at least, learned that it does actually taste like real food. He and William Bush have conducted a few experiments with mixing the powders... Mostly because it's surprisingly easy for bachelors to manage.]
I'm... rather used to schedules. And marking the movement of the sun. Knowing how much time has passed.
It's just another thing to unsettle me here, I suppose.
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But I know what you mean.
[Up comes the fork. Jack's a bit of a quick eater.]
How's your friend doing?
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He's quite well. Thank you for helping him. I am further in your debt for that.
Thankfully, his quarters finally allowed him in.
[Another nod of the head as he looks at the man again.] And you? Have you been well? [He's acutely aware that he has not heard from the other lately, but, then... He has hardly been sociable the last few days himself.]
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[Flirting doesn't help. At all. Jack doesn't remember men from the 19th century being quite so attractive. Certainly not naval men. Hm. If he ever gets out of this, and gets his manipulator fixed, he's spending some time on the ocean in the 1800s.]
So really, no need to be in anyone's debt.
[His smiles ought to win awards!]
And I'm just fine. [Now.] Good as new.
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[Hornblower smiles, more than he usually did, certainly. He bows his head again, politely.]
You've been quite kind, and I want it to be known that I am very grateful. I hope I shall be able to repay you at some turn.
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