James' palm is warm in Jack's hand, and lets James pull him along, wavering between close enough to let their shoulders bump and far enough that their arms stretch to full length. It's not that Jack's drunk (might be in the general vicinity but he hasn't reached that actual destination yet), and more than he finds he has no use for straight lines right now. That's the thing about meandering, after all.
It's nice, this, with James, and Jack holds his peace, enjoying the quiet while it lasts. Distantly, he can still hear cars passing and conversations happening, but mostly it's just the breeze and James' foot-falls over the grass, and Jack concentrates on that, the rhythm of just walking, just being.
Jack pulls a face when James starts that peculiar statement, mind skipping to guess the things he might say, then smiles at what it morphs into. "You would object only a little?" He swivels his hips, teasing and in high-spirits, but he does hold up a bare arm for James to write down his number. "And would that be to the ringing bit or the me part?"
Phone numbers are a curious thing. Jack doesn't have a phone -- or, he does, probably, possibly, but it's buried under trinkets and souveniers and other non-collectable collectables that haven't found a proper home just yet. But that's not the type of thing you mention to a bloke inscribing numbers on your arm.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-10-23 02:35 am (UTC)It's nice, this, with James, and Jack holds his peace, enjoying the quiet while it lasts. Distantly, he can still hear cars passing and conversations happening, but mostly it's just the breeze and James' foot-falls over the grass, and Jack concentrates on that, the rhythm of just walking, just being.
Jack pulls a face when James starts that peculiar statement, mind skipping to guess the things he might say, then smiles at what it morphs into. "You would object only a little?" He swivels his hips, teasing and in high-spirits, but he does hold up a bare arm for James to write down his number. "And would that be to the ringing bit or the me part?"
Phone numbers are a curious thing. Jack doesn't have a phone -- or, he does, probably, possibly, but it's buried under trinkets and souveniers and other non-collectable collectables that haven't found a proper home just yet. But that's not the type of thing you mention to a bloke inscribing numbers on your arm.