[action] Pre-emptive prosenoprevaricatingNovember 1 2011, 23:56:02 UTC
Archie doesn't hear the message, but he's in Good Spirits when Jack arrives. Jilly is an adult again and Kennedy is here getting a head start on Hornblower before heading back to the Britannia to get really drunk. It's only fair, anyway, since Horatio is kind of a lightweight. Compared to a Scotsman, definitely.
[action] 07lists_to_portNovember 2 2011, 01:13:47 UTC
Horatio is kind of a lightweight. Never let Sparrow get his hands on that knowledge, Archie. When the pirate finally enters the place, he is still a bit dazed from his dream therapy. He finds a seat at the bar and begins searching through the peanut bowl for an exceptionally appealing one.
Archie was fairly lost in thought when Jack entered. It takes him a while to notice the pirate is there at all. When he does, he withdraws even further, looking for all the world as if he's trying to become invisible.
He's really in for it, isn't he? Not that he regrets any of his actions, but some of his words were definitely out of line. Anything at all to protect Jilly, but it hadn't been solely because of Jilly's safety that he'd chosen those words. His own possessiveness of the woman he claims as his sister rings embarrassingly in his own ears, and he wishes he could unsay everything related to that, and those accusations that...
Jack doesn't protect his friends, he puts them in danger. That wasn't something Archie meant to state as exclusively a bad thing. It's part of his appeal. But Jack, trying to protect his friends, inevitably causes more harm than good. Right? Well, Archie hasn't been given to believe anything else
( ... )
He might be in for it. Might be. Except Jack is far too lost in his own thoughts, searching for something that isn't there anymore. He is actively seeking adjustment on this issue. That's how A Better Man in Seven Days spelled it out, anyway, although lately the pirate is yearning for the Codex and wisdom that doesn't involve stylized diagrams. Teague's point of view would be helpful about now, though Jack has already made a decision.
He, too, feels as though he may have put Jilly in danger just by having charge of her. Just by being careless--a "what if?" scenario blown to maximum fearful proportions. Nevermind that he had died not all that long ago to protect McCoy on a draft. This was different. This was Jilly. She would always be a different case entirely.
When the bottle arrives, he looks around and spots the sailor preparing to leave. Ha. Not so fast. Jack makes his way over to the other man's table. "Where do you think you're going, lieutenant?"
[she doesn't respond to the journal invitation. Honestly, she's not sure how she'll respond when she does see him, either over the journals or face-to-face. But she has to anyway. Still, she didn't rush out to find him.
After seeing Buffy in House 7 and changing into her regular clothes, she put off doing anything about looking for him...until that invitation. He sounded so...
off. He sounded off.
And so she puts aside her paints and she takes a deep breath and she heads down to Good Spirits in search of the pirate who had looked after her for the past week]
[Jack is quite happily reveling in his newfound freedom when he sees that achingly familiar face. Jilly.
Nerves immediately kick in as he watches her cross the bar. Flighty fingers begin picking at anything within reach: a bowl of peanuts, the label on his rum bottle, the skin of his cuticles. Will she be upset with him? Will she hit him? He might deserve it. Perhaps he can simply run into the back room and avoid her. The instinct to run is strong tonight. So strong.]
[she's known Jack long enough that is determination not to look at her is hard to miss.
A knot forms in her stomach, full of dread. Maybe he wouldn't want to see her, now. After all, it wasn't like he'd asked to be put in the position he had. And she couldn't deny how strange it was. But...
just hello. She'd say hello and let him know for sure that she was fine and then she'd leave him alone, if that's what he wanted.
When she comes close enough to almost be sharing the same table, she stops, smiling uncertainly] Hey, Jack.
"Hallo, Law," comes the nonchalant greeting as Jack passes by the pirate doctor's table. "Work never ends for the wicked, eh?" He nods at the pile of papers in front of the other man before taking yet another swig of rum.
"Zombie hands are the Sea Devil's plaything, actually." Another sip, and Jack maintains remarkable balance in spite of his drunkenness. "Who's the pussycat?"
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He's really in for it, isn't he? Not that he regrets any of his actions, but some of his words were definitely out of line. Anything at all to protect Jilly, but it hadn't been solely because of Jilly's safety that he'd chosen those words. His own possessiveness of the woman he claims as his sister rings embarrassingly in his own ears, and he wishes he could unsay everything related to that, and those accusations that...
Jack doesn't protect his friends, he puts them in danger. That wasn't something Archie meant to state as exclusively a bad thing. It's part of his appeal. But Jack, trying to protect his friends, inevitably causes more harm than good. Right? Well, Archie hasn't been given to believe anything else ( ... )
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He, too, feels as though he may have put Jilly in danger just by having charge of her. Just by being careless--a "what if?" scenario blown to maximum fearful proportions. Nevermind that he had died not all that long ago to protect McCoy on a draft. This was different. This was Jilly. She would always be a different case entirely.
When the bottle arrives, he looks around and spots the sailor preparing to leave. Ha. Not so fast. Jack makes his way over to the other man's table. "Where do you think you're going, lieutenant?"
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I wouldn't mind a drink or two. And a bet or two, either.
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After seeing Buffy in House 7 and changing into her regular clothes, she put off doing anything about looking for him...until that invitation. He sounded so...
off. He sounded off.
And so she puts aside her paints and she takes a deep breath and she heads down to Good Spirits in search of the pirate who had looked after her for the past week]
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Nerves immediately kick in as he watches her cross the bar. Flighty fingers begin picking at anything within reach: a bowl of peanuts, the label on his rum bottle, the skin of his cuticles. Will she be upset with him? Will she hit him? He might deserve it. Perhaps he can simply run into the back room and avoid her. The instinct to run is strong tonight. So strong.]
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A knot forms in her stomach, full of dread. Maybe he wouldn't want to see her, now. After all, it wasn't like he'd asked to be put in the position he had. And she couldn't deny how strange it was. But...
just hello. She'd say hello and let him know for sure that she was fine and then she'd leave him alone, if that's what he wanted.
When she comes close enough to almost be sharing the same table, she stops, smiling uncertainly] Hey, Jack.
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[She could drink, now. She was...not little anymore.]
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Don't suppose you could take a raincheck on drinks and darts.
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[Jack HATES that place.]
Who cares if they're happy? You're the sick one. YOU should be happy.
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