notjackkerouac: (Default)
[personal profile] notjackkerouac
The thing about England -- about Europe in general, in fact -- is that its public buildings have yet to develop an appreciation for air conditioning. Beads of sweat have started to gather on the back of Jack's neck as he slumps on a bench in the entrance hall of the King's College law library. June in London isn't anywhere near as humid as June in Thailand but the combination of boredom and lack of a breeze has begun to take its tole. Mister James L. Norrington, soon-to-be Esquire (information curtesy of a quick Google search in a cafe earlier this morning) seems to have a habit of taking his sweet time. Jack sighs and tries counting the tiles on the ceiling.

The other thing about England is that it doesn't install sofeted pannels in its ceilings. The archway stretches at least two stories high, done up in posh cheery wood with gilden trim, free of anything to count. Jack tilts his head and tries to imagine a mosaic up there, maybe someone like Cromwell in one of those horrible, hilarious wigs banging down the gavel of enternity on the Irish.

Jack would be the Irish in this analogy. Despite that, technically, he's as English as Cromwell was. Technicalities, Jack's always thought, are highly over-rated.

Even if a technicality is what will keep his arse out of jail for the rest of the month. Three days and a fine isn't a bad trade for keeping the Pearl safe. Landing in St. James Park was better than crashing into Big Ben, after all, and it's not like Jack could help the fact she was leaking oil all the way from Salzburg. Not in mid-air, at least.

In his hand, Jack holds a crumpled piece of paper with the name of the officer he's meant to turn himself into in a week's time. He could call now, introduce himself, try to arrange that week into two and those two weeks into never, but the only things he has in his pocket is €1, cigarettes, and some lint. There doesn't seem to be a phone booth around here anyway.

Court is really, really boring. Jack puffs at his fringe and then pulls himself up to smoke a fag outside. At least it will give him something to do with his fingers.

As he stands patting down his pockets (there are eight of them, when considering his socks sometimes serve as good storage space), a door down the hall swings open and the sound of very smart shoes come clipping down the hall.

James L. Norrington, soon-to-be Esq. looks entirely different than he did in the makeshirt courts. Without the robes and the wig (horrible, hilarious), attention can actually be focused on the strong line of his jaw, the broadness of his shoulders, the colour of his purse. (Bag.) Jack thinks the hue might be termed fawn. He wonders if Mister Norrington calls it that.

Tucking the filter of the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, Jack ruffles up his hair and walks to intercept his prey.

"You take a bloody long time to un-doff a wig, mate," Jack says when he gets within hearing distance. He holds out a hand, conviently blocking James L. from continuing on his merry little way. "Don't think we got a chance to be properly introduced."

Date: 2008-10-18 05:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
James has never much gone for crash landings himself. He prefers to know how things are going to end, and if he can't figure it out, making sure they go that way himself. What's more, he's got damn good at it. With Jack, though... he'd had no chance knowing how this was going to happen thus far, and even less of knowing how it's going to end. If it's going to end.

He's not entirely sure how he feels about that, and that in itself is rather... exciting.

But even that thought feels like something a blushing teenager might write in her diary, and his lips twist a little as he signals the waiter to order himself another drink.

'You really think so?' He asks, as he turns back to Jack. 'The fairies in those woods aren't always so benevolent, and even when they are, somebody ends up looking an ass.' James meets his eyes, his gaze shrewd, as if he could divine some answer there merely by looking. 'I like to try and be a little prepared, at least.'

Date: 2008-10-18 07:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Somehow the way James is looking at him hits Jack square in the solar plexus, traps his breath there so that he needs to struggle for a moment to remember how to convert air into oxygen. That particular feeling in his stomach grows, adrenelin and the liquor combining to send a warm buzz through his veins. He's not quite sure what James is proposing but he likes it well enough not to back out now.

"I find," he starts before the waiter leans over the table to collect the drinks and replace them with fresh ones. Jack curls his fingers around the glass, spinning it slowly on the table top, watching for a moment as the ice sinks to the bottom before glancing up to find James' eyes again. "Not much worth doing comes with warning signs. Sometimes you just need to get a little lost in order to find something better."

Date: 2008-10-18 08:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Jack's dark eyes seem ridiculously warm, focussed on James like that, and he licks his lips before he can think about what his tongue's doing, taking a quick sip of his drink to justify the internal glow that seems to have blossomed in his gut. He almost wants to laugh, though, at the way they're speaking in riddles and metaphors, and lifts an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. He shifts slightly on the bench as he does so, nudging against Jack's boot.

'So tell me,' he asks dryly, 'are you the something better in this metaphor? Bit presumptuous of you, really, to imagine that I'd want to go chasing into any sort of woods after you, whether they're metaphorical or not.'

He's smiling as he says it though, because he thinks that maybe he wouldn't mind chasing Jack into the woods. Certainly it would be an interesting experience, if nothing else. Nothing about Jack thus far has been boring or predictable, and James enjoys the way he matches him turn for turn, keeping up like it's a swordfight, blow for blow, parry and thrust, each of them dancing around the other. And even besides that, judging by the heat of those eyes as they regard him, metaphorically chasing Jack into the metaphorical woods would be a rather enjoyable experience as well.

Date: 2008-10-19 01:22 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Jack chuckles at the implication. Maybe he's suggesting that and maybe he's not. He can't even answer that for himself. James can decide for himself if Jack is something better for him. Jack knows next to nothing about him, except that James is attractive, relatively intelligent, and some of the most fun Jack's had when either not stuffed in a cockpit or naked. Possibly even surpasses both at once.

Images are tied to that thought, glimpses of taking James home, or really to the Pearl, seeing as she brought them together and Jack's flat would be more difficult to squeeze another being into, and stripping away Elton's blazer and slowly pushing open the collar of that shirt to see and touch the skin beneath.

He wonders idly, as he pretends to seriously consider James' question, finger poking his chin, if he actually could get James drunk enough to agree to sex while flying. Very few people seem to trust Jack's skill to multitask both of those acts at once. He's never been particularly brave enough to question which skill set they doubt. James seems the type to protest both at this moment, though.

And Jack rather likes the idea of being chased. He's fairly sure James would, with the right sort of motivation. No one asks that question expecting to be told no. So that's just what Jack does, in a way. Retracting his foot, Jack crosses his leg beneath the table, making a new space between them even as he leans forward on his elbows, hovering closer to James. He draws small patterns in the watermarks on the table with a fingertip, smiling softly as he holds James' gaze.

"Can't say, can I? That's the thing about chasing something: you don't always get it, even if you want it. So I guess you'll just need to catch me first to find out."

Date: 2008-10-19 06:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The foot nestled up against his hip slides off the seat, tucking itself neatly away on Jack's side of the table, and James could very well laugh. Sets himself out there, pulls himself away, like all this is some sort of game that Jack just gets a lark out of playing. So James doesn't lean in to mirror Jack's gesture, but instead idly holds his glass to his lips, inhaling the sharp, sweet scent of the alcohol, watching Jack over the rim. He smiles a little, though it's wry and slightly crooked in the face of Jack's soft one.

'I was rather under the impression that I already had caught you,' he comments. 'Certainly, the three days you'll be spending in a cell would suggest as much.'

James sets down his glass, and this time, he does lean a little closer, one eyebrow lifting wickedly, fingers skating smooth across the polished tabletop. 'And need I remind you that you were the one who chased me down and insisted on a drink, lest you break some poor innocent's window.'

Date: 2008-10-19 07:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Only place you want me, then? Banged up behind bars?" Jack immediately counters. Because if that's all it is -- and he doubts that, knows it to be more -- they have no reason to continue anything. Jack might as well serve out his time due and leave the rest be. But the fact James is here, met him for drinks despite all those useless protestations, proves what a lie that is. "Besides. Hasn't happened yet. Thought we already mentioned the dangers of being presumptuous."

He leans back when James leans closer, swaying away playfully, skating his fingers to the far side of the table to lean a shoulder against the wall.

And James does have a point. Jack did instigate it, took the first step, but James responded and that's what really matters. He takes the hat from his head, spins it on a finger like he isn't listening at all, even though he is. Lolling his head to his shoulder, Jack answers lazily, slurring a bit despite the fact that he hasn't had quite enough alcohol to reach that point.

"All that proves is that I caught you. Never said anything about me turning myself over under your charms."

Date: 2008-10-19 07:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
That doesn't even come close to deserving an answer, so it doesn't get one. Though James had meant his protestations at the time, he rather thinks it's become clear to the both of them by this point that Jack's far too interesting simply to ignore after his stint in jail. He thinks (hopes? surely not) it's fairly safe to assume Jack's come to a similar conclusion about him.

He makes note of the way Jack leans back when James leans in, keeping up that play of give and take that seems to have developed between them. He doesn't entirely understand it, or Jack's motivation for it, and that too drives him forward. James has never been good with not understanding.

'Caught me?' He echoes, good naturedly incredulous. 'I hardly think so.' The thought of Jack... turning himself over under James's charms does have a certain appeal, though he doesn't say as much. Wouldn't do, after all, and certainly not if he's to prove the point that he hasn't been caught yet. If he's ever going to be. Once again, presumptuousness.

So he takes another sip of his drink, absently noting that he may be somewhere on the path towards tipsy. 'Just a drink, Jack,' he says. 'I'm hardly in chains yet.'

Date: 2008-10-20 06:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
It is just drinks, and were it anything more -- is it anything more? -- Jack would be the first to correct that assumption. It's pointless to waste time wandering things like that, making plans based on things not yet come to pass, deciding the next place to go before you've even reached the first. There's place else to live but the present, and that's drinks right now, and strange, looping conversation.

Jack likes that. Doesn't need to think of anything more just yet. "Only wanted you for drinks when I asked," he says, then makes the gesture to check the watch he doesn't wear. "But the night's still young yet, isn't it? No telling where we'll end up."

He smiles as he says it, offering up another invitation maybe, if James wants to take it as such. To take Jack home with him, let Jack take him. Or something else altogether. Because even if you can't live in the future, there's no harm in glancing in its direction every once in a while. Two drinks in and it already feels like too long sitting still, playing at something without really being part of it. Jack tips the glass back, downing half his glass in one large gulp before turning back to James, fingers dabbing at his lips.

"It's like you said. Doesn't matter how deep or dark the woods are so much as what you're willing to chase into them. Maybe I just wanted to see if you'd lose the right road with me."

Date: 2008-10-20 06:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
When I asked. Which would suggest that it's something more, something else that Jack wants now. Or perhaps something else he's willing to entertain the possibility of. That's interesting, but not particularly unexpected, and James matches Jack's smile with one of his own- small and close-lipped, but warm, amused.

There's an invitation there, but James isn't going to take it. Not yet, at least. From the looks of things he could probably get Jack into his bed tonight, if he wanted to. Or up against the wall out back of the restaurant, if that's what took his fancy. But James is patient; he knows how to let things take their time, growing richer and sweeter as time passes. And besides, he's enjoying the strange, twisting not-conversation they're having. He's never quite sure where it's going, and that's an unusual thing.

Jack's words surprise him pleasantly, and he lifts an eyebrow, the words coming up out of the back of his brain where they stored themselves years ago when first he read them. They come easily, tripping over his lips with the lazy ease of long memorisation. 'Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita/ mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,/ ché la diritta via era smarrita.'

James smothers his small smile against the rim of his glass, ice cubes clicking against his teeth. 'Dante?' He asks, even though it isn't really a question. 'Seems a bit grim for... this particular setting.'

Date: 2008-10-20 07:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The Italian comes as a surprise, but not an unpleasant one once Jack bends his ear around it again. Recognises it as the actual verse of his thought. It's only from distant memory of recitation, struggling over the popping vowels many years ago with a warn book propped across his knees and an Italian-English dictory flipped open on the seat next to him, that he can place it.

It shocks a line of one of the verse of the original Italian Jack ever bothered to memorize out of his mouth before he can think about it. "Io non so chi tu se ne per che modo venuto se qua giu; ma fiorentino mi sembri veramente quand io to odo."

The words don't quite fit in his mouth elongating and stretching along his tongue as he does the thing from muscle memory rather than concentrates on the individual consonants themselves. It's something smug he feels when he pulls it off, pleased at the reaction it gets.

He rubs his fingers into the grain of the table when James calls him on it. It's not embarrassment, whatever it is that makes Jack tuck his chin to his chest, eyes sliding off to the side. It's more that James caught the implication, found out the lines that Jack mistakenly managed to keep in his head despite trying to rid himself of it. He squeezes an eye shut.

"If you're to be bringing up woods..." he excuses and then shrugs a shoulder. "And all depends how you look at it, really. In the end, they find the stars. Fair finale, I would wager."
Edited Date: 2008-10-20 07:15 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-20 07:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The words on Jack's tongue don't sound nearly as smooth as they did on James's, stretched and hesitating as if he's not sure quite what he's saying. A distinct contrast to James's smooth, university student tones. Still though, James enjoys the sound, the strange juxtaposition of Jack's rough accent on the lilting Italian, the elongated vowels and sharp consonants.

'Fiorentino? Mi?' It's been ages since he spoke any Italian at all, but simple, one-word sentences he reckons he can manage. He chuckles a little. 'Difficilmente.' James, after all, is no Dante, not in any respect.

Jack's reaction, though, that James should recognise what he's referencing, is curious. He seems almost bashful, his eye contact slipping away with a duck of his head. Like most everything else about Jack seems to, that only serves to make James more curious. He's seen Jack's record, after all, knows that he spent the first fourteen years of his life an American citizen, has a criminal record dating to his early teens- and yet he can quote Dante in the original Italian? It doesn't seem to fit.

'They do indeed,' he agrees, finding a drip down the side of his glass and wiping it off, sucking the flavour from his fingertip. 'And would you say that makes it worth it?'

He is actually curious to know Jack's answer.

Date: 2008-10-20 07:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
That Italian Jack can't place, not with the same inbred ease of connecting thought with though, book to book, the cockpit of the plane so warm and nothing else to do but teach himself how to read a story not meant for him. But he can piece the meaning together, the words close enough to English, to French, to Spanish to understand the meaning if not the direct translation.

It was only a joke, after all.

The sight of James sucking his finger draws Jack away from the strange, small, uncomfortable place centered in his chest, and he bites at his lip, remembering the way he kissed James' palm outside the library. Appreciating the way his fingers are long, the nails neat, all the curious crisscrossing lines in his skin that Jack would love to trace with a fingernail. New paths to wander.

His thoughts are determined to stay there, even when James' question fights to pull them away. "For a decent into hell?"

To answer that takes some amount of consideration and Jack rolls his thoughts around in his head, picking them up and looking at them objectively, trying to find which order they belong in.

When he finallyt does speak, the words come slowly, said in time as Jack lays the out in front of him for studying. "Dante had heavenly protection, is the thing, and Virgil to guide him safely along. To learn the stories of those souls suffering. To suffer with them for a while. It's impossible to avoid that. Sometimes it means more to do that bit than to just look up at the sky one night."

He's not sure if he really wants to believe that but it's the right answer for him, either way. He gives a tight nod, agreeing with himself, and glances back at James.

Date: 2008-10-20 08:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
James nurses his drink as Jack mulls over his question. It's not an uncomfortable silence, per se, but it drags on for a long time, long enough for James to finish his drink, and to be rather grateful when Jack finally does speak. He'll keep this in mind for future; classical literature and philosophy do not make great discussion for first dates. Or casual drinks. Whichever one this is.

His words are true, though, James thinks, but he didn't exactly expect them of him, not with his talk of taking any happiness you could when it presented itself to you. That's patience- suffering and learning- and that's usually the valuable thing in any exercise. James smiles. Well well, Jack just continues to surprise him, doesn't he?

'How wise of you,' he murmurs, chasing the ice cubes in circles 'round the bottom of his glass with a finger. The tip of his finger is going a bit numb, but he doesn't particularly care.

Another topic of conversation, he feels, is rather in order, but he's not entirely sure what. They seem to have come to a rather awkward end to this one. He tilts his head at Jack, still stirring the melting ice in his glass. 'Any more surprises for me,' he settles on, rather lamely, giving Jack a crooked grin. 'Besides an apparently encyclopaedic knowledge of Dante.'

Date: 2008-10-20 08:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
It's awkward suddenly, the way James looks away at Jack's answer. The answer itself, memories that Jack doesn't really want to re-live and feelings that don't matter once they've past. He sticks to what he said before, that there's no point in living life like a tragedy, that it's better to find the humour behind reality and if you can't, then to find another reality where you can. But to deny that suffering happens is equally as mis-guided, because it does, and ignoring it doesn't get anyone anywhere.

Somehow the mood has become heavy-handed, rife with something dark or serious or at least unpleasant at it's centre, and Jack doesn't like that. Finishes his drink in the pause between James' speech. He chuckles lightly at the question and the pointedly ignores the added comment.

It's not encyclopaedic, what he remembers. There just wasn't a point to talking about if he didn't lay it out for himself first.

"Just need to wait to find out, I reckon. Half the fun of exploring, that, finding new bends in the road."

It seems too much to order another drink on top of the two he's already had, and the beer he drank at Gibb's flat. Jack's tired of sitting still, anyway, of waiting around for something new to happen. He cocks his head at James.

"Would you let me surprise you?"

Date: 2008-10-20 09:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
As awkward a transition as that was, it seems to have done its job; the mood's lightened perceptibly, they've moved onto another topic. Perhaps, James considers, they can talk about Dante another time. ... Presuming he ever sees Jack again.

His words sound like a dare, and they make James grin. 'You've been surprising me,' he comments, 'No reason to stop now.'

James is nowhere near drunk, but he's feeling pleasantly warm, the liquor settling over the wine he had whilst waiting for Jack, buzzing out through his limbs and making him anxious for movement. Patient James may be, but he's always preferred doing something to sitting still for any great length of time. He gets comfort out of the use of his muscles, something to occupy him whilst talking or thinking. So Jack's words are welcome, even besides the daring, and James inclines his chin in a little nod.

'Please do.'

Date: 2008-10-20 09:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
That's a bit more like it. Jack can't resist the wide grin James gives, returning it with one of his own, a little more predatory and pleased by what James says. He likes surprising him, glad for it. It's what makes life interesting.

He lifts his hat from where it settled on his knees, placing it back at a slight skew on his head (Jack likes to call it jaunty) and slides towards the edge of the booth.

"What, then, do you say to a change in scenery? Personally, I'd like to see a few stars myself, with or without the Dante and his hell."

Date: 2008-10-20 09:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
'That,' James says, sliding out of his side of the booth, 'sounds marvellous. I never did like sitting in one place for too long.'

He stretches, the vertebrae in his back popping and snapping, and rolls his neck, hearing those bones crack as well. Out of habit, he tugs at his blazer, making sure all the neat lines of velvet fall right, before neatly buttoning the middle button. It's a neat effect, over the black shirt.

He lifts an eyebrow at Jack. 'Anywhere in particular you had in mind?'

James doesn't particularly care if he does or not; he often takes long walks in his spare time, aimless wandering down the bank of the Thames with nowhere in particular in mind. Another facet of that movement thing of his, he supposes. And with someone to talk to, a destination is even less important.

Date: 2008-10-21 03:39 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Standing and finally in reach, it's difficult to resist the urge to pop the button on James' blazer open once more. So Jack blatantly gives up on resistences and sneaks a hand out, twisting the button free of its hole with a quick snap of his fingers. It's not that James looks bad with the cover -- the blazer has strong lines and softer fabric -- but Jack likes him better without, likes the black of the shirt against the paleness of James' skin. He tugs at the lapel, just as James had done, but this time to skew it, cheeky smile in place.

"Thought you wanted a surprise. Surprises only work if you don't know what's coming."

Which is Jack's way to mean that he hasn't quite made up his mind where to go just yet. Outside, where the light is less and the people further away as to not distract from Jack taking advantage of that open button. And someplace where he can stretch himself out, let the alcohol work its way from his veins to his head. He has a few ideas. It just depends which one they stumble upon first.

He leads the way out of the restaurant without a nod towards the cheque. The waiter doesn't manage to intercept them, and that makes it his loss. The street is mostly quiet except for a few passing cars searching for illusive parking spots. Jack crosses, hoping James will follow, and takes the path that heads for the park a few blocks away.

Date: 2008-10-21 04:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
'Fair enough,' James says, and something in him doesn't make a move to re-button the blazer. Perhaps he enjoys the fact that Jack apparently cares enough about how he looks that he should take the trouble to adjust his clothing to his own tastes; perhaps it's mere amusement. He does straighten it out, though, fixing the lines that Jack set askew.

It doesn't seem to occur to Jack that paying for their drinks is a necessity, and James rolls his eyes, fishing out a wad of notes from the inner pocket of his blazer. He drops a tenner and a few pound coins onto the table, and quickly skirts his way around patrons and waiters to the door, easily catching up with Jack as he crosses the street.

'I seem to recall you wanting to buy me a drink,' he says wryly, leaning close to the other man's ear. He doesn't really mind paying, but he feels it's worth a mention, if only to see how Jack responds.

Date: 2008-10-21 05:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Jack doesn't jump when James' voice purrs in his ear but it's a close call. He shivers subtly at the tickle of warm breath down his neck and reclines back into the heat source, resting his shoulder blade lightly against James' chest for a few moments before James pulls away.

"Did I?" he murmurs, words slipping from his lips without much thought to what they are. "Must have just slipped my mind. Guess I'll just need to make it up to you." He crooks a little smile in James' direction, looking over his shoulder at him with eyes at half mast.

The night has grown chillier with the sun dipping behind the horizon hours ago, but it's still pleasant enough for a walk, with a light breeze and the moon nearly full and silver. The gate to the park creaks as Jack pushes it open, disregarding the posted sign of hours available. The path splits the field of grass into two halves, winding through the middle of the shadowy grass as a paler dark trail. It only goes across the park to no where specifically interesting. Off the beaten path and all that.

Jack fishes his hand behind him to hook James' fingers with his and wanders to the side, up to top of a shallow hill where there are no trees to block the view. Jack looks up, counting all the he can for a second, before letting himself go completely limp. He spreads his arms out and tumbles onto his back, landing with a slight grunt.

"There. Perfect."

Date: 2008-10-21 05:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
'Quite,' James murmurs, when Jack says he'll have to make it up to him. The little smile and half lidded eyes make it quite clear what method he has in mind, and James's own lips curl up at the corners in a slight smirk. Perhaps. He might have to consider, given that it is their... first date, strange though it is to think of it as that. That, and all Jack's talk about chasing and catching makes James think that perhaps the thing to do is to play a little hard to get.

They'll see.

He wanders patiently along next to Jack, breathing deep of the evening air and enjoying the sounds of London beginning to come to life, as it does at night. He knows the park Jack leads them to, knows also that it closed a good hour ago, but doesn't say anything. Slightly out of bounds and not allowed seems to be the way Jack operates.

The hand catching his is unexpected, but far from unpleasant. Jack's hand is warm and dry, all calluses and the cool metal of rings, texture that James can feel against his own skin, and of its own volition, his fingers tighten just a little. He smiles up into the night as he follows Jack's meandering path up the little hill until he seems to find a place he deems satisfactory. James just watches as he collapses onto his back, looking like a little boy with his limbs all splayed out around him, staring up at the sky.

James, for his part, settles himself rather more sedately, dropping to one knee before letting his legs fall out before him, one knee propped up. He leans back on his hands, his head tilted sideways to look at Jack.

'Dare I ask what exactly it's perfect for?'

It feels like the sort of place a sixteen year old boy takes his girlfriend because they want to snog somewhere his parents won't catch them. James has the self control not to voice that particular thought, but it makes him exhale a little chuff of laughter as he looks away from Jack and out into the night.

Date: 2008-10-21 05:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The stars seems irregularly bright. Jsck finds ones he knows, parts of constelations and individuals. He names Polaris, and then Orion and Cassiopeia and the bears. He shifts a bit to the side to make more room for James to sit. Jack props himself onto his elbows to mimic James' pose a little, dropping his head between his shoulders and letting his eyes drift shut, the stars fading into the dark of the sky.

A smile blooms at the question and he laughs quietly at the implication. He peaks at eye open to see the cut of James' cheek bone silhouetted against the sky, head lolling against his shoulder. "Many potential answers come to mind."

Jack can bet what James' little chuff means, the image he has in mind. It's secluded here, and quiet, and there are many thing two bodies could get into without much to disturb them. But that's not entirely what Jack has in mind, though he won't say no if the option arises. He opens his other eye and tips his head back again, taking in the wide, far away sky.

"It's the stars," Jack clarifies. "Hard to find a place in the city to get a clear view. They change depending where you are, how you're looking at them. Just wanted to see what I'd see from here."

Date: 2008-10-21 06:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The stars. Right.

'Mmm,' mutters James, a vague sound of assent. He doesn't really spend any great amount of time looking up at the stars; not any more than anybody does, at least. When he's out in his parents' place in the country, sure, but that's only to note the difference, the way one can see the great stripe of the Milky Way across the sky, all the stars that are utterly invisible in London. It has a certain novelty to it.

Looking up at the sky, the only constellations he can name are Ursas Major and Minor, and his eyes absently track them across the dotted map of the heavens, pursing his lips when he finds them.

'You... watch the stars a lot?' He says after a moment. It seems the thing to ask, as Jack looks utterly absorbed, and at the moment at least, he's rather more interesting than the stars.

Date: 2008-10-21 06:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The question is amusing, inconsequential, and Jack struggles to contain his smile from breaking into a grin. "I... like to watch pretty things," Jack says with the same sort of hesitancy, a practice in mockery rather than true feeling.

He shifts on his elbows, swaying closer so that his shoulder can just about brush James' arm and squints at James, watching him watch the sky. There seems to be little recognition in his face, eyes only darting over a few stars, not even looking for those that are hidden somewhere in the deep.

Jack shifts again, edging just a bit closer, then suddenly sits up to lean on his hands, palm pressed flat into the dirt and fingers curling slightly into the grass. "Sometimes that's stars, sometimes that's other things."

Date: 2008-10-21 06:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
James chuckles a little at the purposeful mimicry of his own speech, taking the mockery for what it is. That is, among other things, probably deserved.

Pretty things. Like Jack's some kind of magpie, attracted to beautiful, shining things, collecting them when he can- the jewels on his fingers- or just looking, when he can't actually catch them. James rather likes the image. He's distracted from any such thoughts, though, when Jack shifts to bring himself closer, the edges of their bodies touching slightly.

It's the sort of closeness where you're not sure if eye contact is a good thing or not. James is good at making himself unreadable, though, so he moulds his face into a half-amused expression of intrigue, his eyes sliding up to meet Jack's. His voice is soft when he speaks, as befitting the suddenly reduced amount of air space between them.

'Oh really? And what sorts of things might those be, Mr. Sparrow?'

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-21 06:57 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-21 07:14 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-21 08:20 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-22 12:49 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-22 02:05 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-22 02:26 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-22 03:07 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-22 03:47 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-22 04:29 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-22 05:45 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-23 02:35 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-10-23 05:31 pm (UTC) - Expand


notjackkerouac: (Default)
Jack Sparrow

November 2008

2 345678
910 1112131415

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 23rd, 2017 01:33 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios