(Untitled)

[goodform]

*Obviously someone's New Year resolution list was lacking the "give up smoking" standard - although the evil tobacco itself is not currently lit. The captain takes up his usual place against a wall, cigar-holder in hand, right arm folded behind his back

Comments

[vicioussweetie]

"It depends on the event." She gives him a 'you'e been a very naughty pirate' look, reaching for the cigar-holder.

"What're you trying to avoid actually asking about?"

[goodform]

*The cigar holder is held back from her, with obvious reluctance. So far, the scolding look isn't doing its job*

Hello, Ali. I thought the question quite open and not designed to avoid anything...

*Well, there's design, and then there's intention.*

[vicioussweetie]

"Smoking is bad and will kill you. Gimme." He should just give up, 'cause she looks particularly determined on this point.

"Fine, be difficult today. You'll just have to come and apologize to me for it when you come to your senses."

[goodform]

*He locks gazes with her for a moment. There's a reason, of course, that he's being difficult about this - not that he's generally the world's easiest man to cope with. After a moment or so she will find herself the triumphant owner of one ivory-stemmed cigar holder, and the perhaps not-so-triumphant companion of a pirate captain with his nose out of joint*

[victormakesart]

"After an event. When I c'n look at whatever I've done an' see tangible results."

"Not really, I don't think. 'Least, I don't think I think that. If I avoid somethin', I'm scared of it, plain an' simple."

"Heya. How're you doin'?"

[goodform]

*He bows slightly* Miss Victor. Always a pleasure.

*As to how he's doing? His voice is slightly more gravelly than normal, indicating that he's got a throat-based cold, or possibly that he's been chainsmoking those damn cigars, who can say.*

I think, perhaps, that there may be many different varieties of scared.

[victormakesart]

"Likewise." She tipped her hat.

Ah. Smoking. Golly. She had a whole lot of friends who smoked, so she didn't mind it and she hardly noticed nowadays. Also, her city was polluted like woah. But smoking did give one a rather distinctive voice, and an equally distinctive cough. She shall have her ears open.

"I fear I ain't very creative with m' scared-feelin's. 'S only scared-scared an' worried-scared." Both of which she'd experienced within the past few days, if the circles under her eyes were any indication. Silly Victor.

[goodform]

*He tilts his head. He hasn't seen Victor lately, and she looks as tired as he generally feels.*

Have you never felt scared at the same time as feeling something else? Something different?

[deathwithanankh]

Death smiles. "Not sure, they both have their pluses. And you'd have to ask my sister-brother about the last one. Desire isn't exactly my expertise. I think it would be against that outlook, though."

[goodform]

*Hook gives the woman with a short up-and-down appraisal while mentally turning over the "sister-brother" concept. His brain eventually gives that internal shrug of "Nexus". He nods to her politely*

And what is your expertise, might I ask?

[deathwithanankh]

"Death, and life."

[goodform]

*he seems to take this equally in his stride as a philosophical point*

But in making such a broad subject your expertise, surely you would have to understand the desire to live, and the desire to die?

[huck_f]

Huck looks longingly at the cigar. "You got any extra baccy, by any chance? Um, and I guess I like the actual thing, better, usually."

[goodform]

*Now look. Being civil to young lads (a terribly difficult undertaking in itself) does not involve giving them gifts if they accost him in the street. He gives Huck a long, unamused stare*

Mister Finn. No, I have none to give to you.

And why would you say you held that opinion?

[huck_f]

"Because what's the point in wantin' a thing if you can't get it?" He looks crestfallen. "That's too bad. I can't seem to find none, and I could use a smoke."

[goodform]

Wanting is valuable. It can give you...direction. Purpose.

*he seems to become abruptly irritated. Mercurial as ever, especially when some little guttersnipe is after his cigars*

You can find practically anything you wish in this place, so it seems. If you spend enough time looking.

[in_jubilation]

"Need a light, Captain Hook?" Jubilee seems calmer than last time, even though there is a cut down her cheek and she sports a black eye.

"Depends on the event in question."

[goodform]

*He frowns: firstly, because he would need a light had not Ali removed his cigars, and secondly because of Jubilee's injuries*

It seems there is an event in your recent past that I should enquire about...

[in_jubilation]

Jubilee glances to the left, then to the right, then from her pocket she draws out a thick cigar. She had recently bought a pack of two really good expensive cigar's, as she will need one for /the talk/ with Wolvie later this weekend. But as for the other, she holds it out to him.

"Christmas muggers, trying to take a ladies bags away. Had to put a stop to it. They cut me." She explained simply and softly.

[goodform]

*He reaches out and takes it, raising it to sniff at before stowing it carefully in one pocket with a nod of thanks. Indeed, very fine quality. A generous gesture on her part.*

Common thieves have neither style nor manners.

*And heaven help anyone who should presume to question him on his own twisted sense of good form*

I hope they did not live to regret their choice of target.