dear_mun | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

What is this, lady?

I've been off the air for five years. Five bloomin' years, and don't you talk to me about that charade with the scarcely clad psychology graduate. That's after my 'canon point', as you would put it. See? I speak your language. No wonder, as you've moved me into your head.

Don't know what I'm doing here. 's full of goody-two-shoes and bits of skirts I'm not allowed to look at 'cos they'll take my head off with their Japanese friggin' swords. Is there anyone in here I can have a drink with? Apart from the vampire? He's wearing lace and drinking something even I can't identify. Heretic.

Anyway. You've put me in here, now you've got me. Don't come crying to me if you realize you don't like it. To put it in words you might understand: you want a guarantee, buy a toaster.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[You really take these things far too seriously. He'll make that headache up to you later. Possibly. If he remembers and feels prone to being selfless. After all, you bring it on yourself a bit, going around stating statement like that.]

[And he doesn't even have anything to say in response to that. His expression should say it all.]

[Until after a long, long moment, with utmost dubious, sceptical appreciation licking through each syllable in the word, drawing it out.] Facilitated? [No one facilitates his existence but for him. Looks after himself, does Captain Jack Sparrow. Always has, always will.]

[James will lineface back at him, all thin lips and lines of frustration (and possibly confusion, because it's really not as if he's an expert on this topic) between his eyebrows.]

Facilitated. If you further explored this... community, [he says the word with the air of someone who's been given a translation for a word into a foreign language and has to take their word that it means what he thinks it means] you might find other versions of yourself. And... myself. Evidently. Theoretically.

[Said very delicately, the verbal equivilent of someone stepping daintly through mud clad in their best shoes.] Other--versions? [You might not be implying what he thinks you're implying, and best to err on that side of disbelief than the other. He'll go far to avoid bringing up the subject of the Locker, if it's at all avoidable.]

Evidently. From-- alternate... universes?

[Give it a moment. Juuuust a moment. And then James shakes his head, mouth twisting off to the side.]

No, I can't explain. I haven't the faintest idea how it works.

Alternative universes.

[They're at the point where he's repeating everything you say in a dubious, mocking tone. Obviously you've no notion what you're on about. So he'll smile at you; it should be patronising and mischeivous but it stll comes out a little too overly-fond to do either successfully.]

Complete rot, isn't it? [If you can't explain it, it must not be true. You're simply--confused. Which is a sight indeed to see.]

I am not in the habit of coming out with complete rot. However, neither am I a philosopher.

[It is crisply defensive, but also self-aware, with an echo of Jack's fondness lurking just under the surface.]

Hm-mm? [Oh no? He might disagree with that. There's enough he could reference what at one point you thought that were complete and utter and thourough rot, down to the core. But he's not going to say anything, unless you make him. There's just a knowing, teasing smile.]

Hm-mm. [That is a pointed and eloquent hum. He is well aware that there are things he has thought and indeed come out with that have, with time, turned out to be rot. He knows it and Jack knows it, so there's no need to say it. In any event, this is not.]

[You've proved his point for him then. If it's been true in the past, there's a chance of it being true now. And since you can't explain it...]

I win. [He beats you in a logic game.] Lovely to play with you. Do come to the soiree after dinner. It's being held in the garden. [As though they've been having a formal match or a duel back in the society of England.]

[Yes, because Jack Sparrow has never in his life believed that something he can't explain is true.]

[Oh, playing a game, are they? Have an eyebrow.]

And whose garden, pray, shall that be, Captain Sparrow?

[That's right. Everything he thinks is explainable, if not through philisophy, then through showing. It were only ever James who doubted what Jack knew to be true, and Jack's shown him in intervening years, hasn't he.]

Could come over and find out. Leiutenant. [With a flirtatious smile. If there ever were an offer, that is one. They could throw their own garden party. Privately.]

[He is not going to argue this any further, because really it ought to be obvious. Who do they think Gene was talking to? But no, because he can't explain it, through logic or philosophy, and flirting is clearly more important.]

[He smiles himself, just faintly, curling and wry, James's version of receptive and flirtatious. A tease lurks under his tone.]

But how am I to come over if I don't know where I'm going?

[Jack has no idea who Gene was speaking to originally. It's not something he's contemplated. It's not something that it even occurs to him as needing contemplation. Gene were just there, and then he were just there. Simple.]

[Spreading his arms. Over here. Towards him. Is where James should be going.] Think about two steps forward and one to the left.

[And because he likes the military, or at least the fact that James is trained military, even if the command comes out as perplexedly daring rather than authoratative--] Forward march?

[James doesn't laugh, but it's a near thing, that thin smile turning into something a little broader. The dubious command doesn't deserve it, but he lifts his chin and straightens his shoulders nonetheless, taking those two steps forward and one to the left, into Jack's personal space until their chests are aligned and he has to tilt his chin down to look at him.]

You sound confused.

[Just pointing that out.]

[Jack hums contentedly when James gets close enough to feel his body heat, chin lifting to meet James's eyes, hands going to fit on James's sides, palming over the slight angle between the arc of his hips and the bow of his ribcage.]

Didn't know if it would take.

[That James would take orders from him when James held, holds the higher rank. Not that Jack's ever been one much for orders. Far better to persuade than to command, after all.]

Huzzah? [Lifting a hand in the air with a flicking twist of his wrist. To keep in the spirit of things. If they're having a celebratory garden party commemorating his victory.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only