(Oh, Time Without Meaning, how Jack loved thee. It meant he was quite carefree, not on the verge of losing his job, and Earth had yet to be invaded by characters from the telly. Grand!)
The Captain, rather simply put, was looking decidedly impeccable. He had spent a good amount of time in front of his mirror. Though, as it was quite inanimate and non-magical, despite being located on the Rift in Cardiff, he'd missed out on reflection-related arguments pertaining to hair style or choice of tie.
Yes, tie. He'd forgone the classically casual look (and even his ever-present greatcoat) for a dark suit and a blue silk tie. Subconsciously, he straightened the infrequent addition to his attire once he arrived at Lorne's door, assuring himself it was straight before he knocked.
By that knock, call it a flip and a flop with a side of the Viennese Waltz thrown in for good measure. Ba-dump whump kssshh!
Okay. He squares his shoulders, smooths any and all wrinkles out of his suit, real and imaginary, and... No, he can't rush to the door as if he was just waiting for it. There's a too fine line between excitement and desperation, and he isn't sure he wants to give off too much of either right now. He takes a deep breath, and throws one last look around his 'quarters' to make sure they're at least as tidy as they normally are, and opens the door for his friend. Date. Fellow flamboyant Franklin fan. Friend.
And then he actually stops worrying about terms and looks at his friend. Wearing that suit, Jack could call himself anythig at all. Be still, Lorne's heart
( ... )
"Hi, Lorne," Jack greeted. -- Wow? He glanced down for a coy moment, almost threatening a blush, before flashing his charming green friend a broad grin. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know." It was quite possible that Jack's voice existed in a perpetual state of innuendo undertone, that he didn't possess the ability not to flirt horribly at every possible opportunity.
"Thank you," he asserted once he'd finished being flirtatious (not possible). "You're looking quite dashing yourself. Love the suit. Brings out the color of your eyes." Well, it did. Not only that, but Jack was generally impressed with Lorne's ability to color coordinate with green skin. (Of course, he thought logically, Lorne might have been equally impressed with his own ability to color coordinate with not-green skin.)
Lorne would certainly hope that it's not so much a perpetual state, as it's already enough to do funny little things to his insides. He leans against the doorjamb, not really knowing where to look, only barely taming the widening, shit-eating grin. It's his turn to flush with warmth, one hand going up to furtively, yes, most sneakily cover his cheek to hide the blush.
'Great going there, Mister ninja demon. Just shove it into your pocket instead.'
"I don't know about you," he murmurs, stepping to the side to close his door. "But I prefer good, old-fashioned compliments to flattery any day. They feel so much nicer in the general tummy area, don't they, not to mention my heart's doin' the cha cha, you charmer!"
He gives his friend - yes, let's settle for friend - a pointed look and a distinctly impish smile. Is that his elbow he's offering?
Comments 31
The Captain, rather simply put, was looking decidedly impeccable. He had spent a good amount of time in front of his mirror. Though, as it was quite inanimate and non-magical, despite being located on the Rift in Cardiff, he'd missed out on reflection-related arguments pertaining to hair style or choice of tie.
Yes, tie. He'd forgone the classically casual look (and even his ever-present greatcoat) for a dark suit and a blue silk tie. Subconsciously, he straightened the infrequent addition to his attire once he arrived at Lorne's door, assuring himself it was straight before he knocked.
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Okay. He squares his shoulders, smooths any and all wrinkles out of his suit, real and imaginary, and... No, he can't rush to the door as if he was just waiting for it. There's a too fine line between excitement and desperation, and he isn't sure he wants to give off too much of either right now. He takes a deep breath, and throws one last look around his 'quarters' to make sure they're at least as tidy as they normally are, and opens the door for his friend. Date. Fellow flamboyant Franklin fan. Friend.
And then he actually stops worrying about terms and looks at his friend. Wearing that suit, Jack could call himself anythig at all. Be still, Lorne's heart ( ... )
Reply
"Thank you," he asserted once he'd finished being flirtatious (not possible). "You're looking quite dashing yourself. Love the suit. Brings out the color of your eyes." Well, it did. Not only that, but Jack was generally impressed with Lorne's ability to color coordinate with green skin. (Of course, he thought logically, Lorne might have been equally impressed with his own ability to color coordinate with not-green skin.)
Reply
'Great going there, Mister ninja demon. Just shove it into your pocket instead.'
"I don't know about you," he murmurs, stepping to the side to close his door. "But I prefer good, old-fashioned compliments to flattery any day. They feel so much nicer in the general tummy area, don't they, not to mention my heart's doin' the cha cha, you charmer!"
He gives his friend - yes, let's settle for friend - a pointed look and a distinctly impish smile. Is that his elbow he's offering?
Yes, yes it is. "Shall we?"
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