[On his way in, Jack might run into Gibbs, who is pushing a wheelbarrow filled with recycling items from the dining hall, which he fully intends to fling into a ravine not far from the main campus. The first mate has clearly been enjoying a nip from the ever-present flask. Also, he's singing a song about parsnips. But he stops this song when he sees a familiar stumbling figure. Something about Jack's movements are very familiar and highly concerning; so Gibbs's voice is probably more tentative than it normally would be when he speaks up.]
[Jack jumps at the sight of Gibbs. He thinks it's just another bit of the Locker.
Even the rescue, fighting Davy Jones, and coming here. It'd all been apart of the Locker. He was still dead. And in hell. It had just waited for him to regain what he loved most and coveted most to only hold it out of his reach until he shredded his brain into mulch.]
News? No news, news -please -- news insinuates that there has actually been an update, a new found addition to the events of the world. And as it stands - [He made a wide flinging gesture to the campus. None of the usual slight control over his movements was there.]
Seems the whole bloody school is well aware of what news, sir.
Ah. Mist, eh? [Gibbs sets down the barrow and unscrews his flask, taking a long sip. He's been dealing with it in his own way. And he knows nothing of the strange things lurking in it, yet.] Can't let it get the better of us, now can we? [He offers whatever's left to Jack. There might be a little.] You look like you need this more than I do, Cap'n.
Ahhh. [He gave a little noise of interest and plucked the bottle out of his hands, draining it instantly. The burn settled comfortably in his throat and pooled throughout the rest of him.
He'd need a lot more drink, he decided.]
Not just the Mist, Gibbs. I'd carry a pistol with ye if ya haven't.
[Jack looked about in the darkness for something to move. But nothing settled.
He could hear whispers though. Little familiar lilts of his past teasing his ears. He needed more rum.]
[Elizabeth has been going about the halls. With all the panic about what had been going on, she'd forced herself to keep a cool head and look for students who might need her.
She sees all of this from a distance and stops in her tracks. Then goes slack-jawed, backs up a few steps and stares.
Oh god. This is certainly not good. Why does he have blood all on his hands?
This is the side of Jack that she fears the most... the side she knows if ever were to get his hands on her... would be the most likely to strangle her for leaving him to the Kraken.
So she takes a few more steps backwards, squeals quietly when the corner of a wall hits her back, turns and starts walking the other direction.
[Thankfully for Liz, Jack was convinced everyone and everything he saw was merely a figment of the Locker he was still in. So he wouldn't be chasing after her. Only wincing and making a break for it in the other direction once he saw her. The Locker was very good at picking out exactly what would sting the most.
And he didn't want that. No, no, no no no nononononnonono.]
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[That can't possibly be good.]
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...I believe she was speaking to me.
Aye?
[No. No it's not.]
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Who are you talking to?
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Oi, keep your thieving 'ands off me effects.
[He pouts at...someone on his left. And clutches his hand to his hat. Then his sword. Like someone invisible is playing a game with him.]
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....Cap'n? What news, sir?
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Even the rescue, fighting Davy Jones, and coming here. It'd all been apart of the Locker. He was still dead. And in hell. It had just waited for him to regain what he loved most and coveted most to only hold it out of his reach until he shredded his brain into mulch.]
News? No news, news -please -- news insinuates that there has actually been an update, a new found addition to the events of the world. And as it stands - [He made a wide flinging gesture to the campus. None of the usual slight control over his movements was there.]
Seems the whole bloody school is well aware of what news, sir.
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He'd need a lot more drink, he decided.]
Not just the Mist, Gibbs. I'd carry a pistol with ye if ya haven't.
[Jack looked about in the darkness for something to move. But nothing settled.
He could hear whispers though. Little familiar lilts of his past teasing his ears. He needed more rum.]
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She sees all of this from a distance and stops in her tracks. Then goes slack-jawed, backs up a few steps and stares.
Oh god. This is certainly not good. Why does he have blood all on his hands?
This is the side of Jack that she fears the most... the side she knows if ever were to get his hands on her... would be the most likely to strangle her for leaving him to the Kraken.
So she takes a few more steps backwards, squeals quietly when the corner of a wall hits her back, turns and starts walking the other direction.
She can't help you, Jack. She just can't.]
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Only wincing and making a break for it in the other direction once he saw her. The Locker was very good at picking out exactly what would sting the most.
And he didn't want that. No, no, no no no nononononnonono.]
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Downright smart if you ask me--
well, no one was asking you.
Weren't we?
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