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the limit is the sky
2008-10-16 12:24 pm (UTC)
It's not really a lie, because it
harder than most people think to get a cab back from Northaw. Or harder than Jack thinks, at least, any time he needs to make the trek back to London from fielding the
. But if James isn't upset about it, Jack sees no reason to try to defend himself. Best to leave the whole thing behind them.
His grin turns a bit wicked as James's eyes examine him. Jack far from minds it and even plays it up a bit, tipping his hat higher on his head to stare at James. He cleans up well, he does, and Jack lingers over the small hint of a collar bone beneath the collar of his shirt. Black works well on him, and Jack says as much, resisting the urge lean across the table and part James' shirt for better appreciation.
Of the fabric.
"Didn't want to disappoint," Jack murmurs, smile curling the words into something soft and somehow suggestive. "Shame, though, that you didn't bring the wig. It would go with the black even better." Which is a lie in a way, because James has rather nice hair. Jack likes the ability to see more of it.
A waiter passes and Jack puts in his order for a Black Russian, then stretches out in the booth, boot going up to rest next to James' hip on the seat.
"So the L. I got to admit it, I'm curious, mate. L-names not being so popular these days."
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