Post by Jack Sparrow on Aug 7, 2006 22:06:42 GMT -5
Cannon or Original: Cannon
Name: Captain Jack Sparrow, don’t forget the Captain mate
Age: Between the weathering harshness of the ocean and his child like exuberance, to put an age to Jack is hard pressed, but a rough guess would be 37 years
Sex: Male
Career: Pirate and Captain of the Black Pearl
Lives: Wherever the wind takes him aboard the Pearl
Appearance: Dirty, unkempt dreadlocks are the easiest way to maintain the raven colored hair out on the sea. Several loose braids seem to float free from under the sun weathered red scar tied around his head. It drops low to his brow covering half of his head. A thick braid keeps more hair swept out of the way with an almost last minute ponytail of shorter hair sprouting from above his right brow. Affixed with a sliver of nondescript bone, one can only hope animal with two cords decorated with glass, wood and clay beads with a trinket of silver at the end. Scruffy thin beard and mustache lines his jaw and mouth where most of the length falls from his chin braided into two parts fastened with a bead at the end. Along the right side of his jaw a splotch of discoloring in what appears to be a burn mark, most of the course hair of his beard has not grown back leaving a bald patch per say. His skin has been tanned by years under the blistering sun and harsh salt air. Eyes the color of rich soil, there’s a certain wildness to them accentuated by his natural albeit odd expressions, Lined with kohl, the dark coloring draws you into his hypnotizing gaze. His face, half hidden by the mass of hair and bandanna doesn’t quite cover the delicate cheekbones and concubine lips that shine through.
Sparrow wears a unbleached linen shirt with a banded collar and chest lacings of heavy cording. Always worn open as if unaware of the tanned skin he reveals or the small tattoo along the left side of his chest. Over this is a thin dingy blue vest that looks as though it would fall off his narrow shoulders. Never buttoned but kept in place with a red and white stripped gypsy looking scarf tied around his tapered waist. It flairs to mid thigh while cutting short in the back. This emphasizes his effeminate traits of a slender body. His hands are a contradiction to his lifestyle, willowy fingers better suited for a pianist decorated with a few rings of gold and silver adorned with etched skulls and precious gems. A black and red rag once made of fine silk wrapped nonchalantly around his right wrist that hides the branded P, a gift from the West India Trading companies. Above the scarred brand is a tattoo of s Sparrow flying over a sinking sun. On his opposite arm a ragged scar stretches from his wrist to inner elbow. Two gunshot scars mark the right side of his chest just barely missing his heart.
He wears a fading brown breeches that hang low and fitting around his hips but swim around lean muscular legs, cutting mid calf with two tarnished buttons running along the outside edge. These are hidden by the worn tan leather boots that nearly reach his knees overlapping the breeches. At times he sports a graying coat decorated with large silver buttons. Fitted at his shoulders, the heavy and spacious sleeves cup around his wrist freeing his hands for easy movement and curl around his knees. He wears a leather baldric with a simple silver buckle that keeps his sheathed cutlass within easy reach at his left hip. Another belt cinches his pistol at his thigh. From his belt dangles the famous compass that doesn’t point North. And the most important piece of the ensemble is Jack’s leather tricorner hat. With a heavy X shaped stitching at each corner it’s withhold the test of time and one of his most treasured effects.
Personality: The persona he portrays and is are two different people intertwined on some plane of existence. A drunken swagger complemented by an awkward flailing of arms and hands give him the manifestation of a wandering and lost mind, more then likely from being stranded on a deserted island with no protection from the scorching sun. He uses this to his benefit, confusing his enemy who may think him weaker. Lies are apart of him but he speaks more truth then most Pirates to many a disbelief and is often put off when a person is skeptical. You can always trust him to be dishonest be it for a better or worse situation. Unusual for a pirate Sparrow is known for his selfless nature, putting himself in harms way to save other people. This has gotten him into more trouble and caused many a problem but he doesn’t seem close to rectifying this good trait. Ladies man, however good at wooing and sweeping them off their feet he can never keep a relationship for his true love lies with the sea. Freedom is what he longs for, more so then treasures. Don’t misunderstand; a good bounty is always a great catch but the journey to the pretty shinnies is worth far more.
History: The details of Jack Sparrow’s life are never the same, changing with the wind becoming elaborate with a bottle of rum while sometimes being as indirect as possible. Whatever the finesse Jack wishes to indulge, history can’t be altered. Born Jack Smith, Sparrow was born in India on October the twenty fifth. His mother a common woman of the streets, a courtesan of the ports. She was as beautiful as she was kind. His father a scurvy pirate of lore. What little or vast magic fell between these two polar opposites, Jack was a ending result.
The love of the sea in his blood, it was inevitable that he took up the position of Privateer for the West India Trading Companies in his early life. He helmed the Wicked Wench an EITC merchant vessel performing odd jobs for Lord Cutler Beckett. Most were transporting cargo through a few hazardous regions often skirting around Pirates themselves. Jack complied relishing in the small bit of freedom he had out at sea but he put everything on the line when he refused to transport slaves for Beckett. He stood up for the men and women enslaved and bound for England to be auctioned off like cattle and in response his Lord struck back. Cutler left his mark in fading bruises and cuts with a lasting brand that sealed Jack’s fate. As if it wasn’t cruel enough to torture the young man, the Wicked Wench was sunk before his very eyes.
Leaving behind his old life baring the scars of a Pirate, Jack slipped out from under the very nose of the India Trading and sought out his ship. He wanted nothing but his own vessel back, knowing every inch of the Wench after spending years aboard her. Sparrow hunted down the fable Davy Jones coming across him and his crew during a storm. He struck a deal with the Captain for his soul, the Wench would be given back him and he would be Captain over her for thirteen years. It was a easy deal, the freedom of the sea calling to him and perhaps clouded his decision. The Wicked Wench was resurrected from the bottom of the ocean and was christened the Black Pearl.
Finally the Captain of his own ship, Jack formed a crew his first mate and most trusted man by the name of Hector Barbossa. Many an adventure under their belt, the Pearl set off for a legendary treasure of Aztec gold but it soon was apparent that Barbossa wasn’t the trusted man Jack thought him to be. During the night, Sparrow’s first mate came to him and proposed the crew ought to have equal share of everything, including the whereabouts of treasure. Finding it the right thing to do, Jack gave up the location and was mutinied and marooned on a deserted Island with nothing more then a pistol and a single shot to stave off the misery of starving to death. The fates smiled upon the lone pirate and despite the tales he weaves, Jack only spent three days on the island finding a stash of rum kept by rum runners. He was then able to barter safe passage off the Isle and with revenge in tow, he set his sight on killing Barbossa.
Ten years later, Jack washed upon the shores of Port Royal and was soon if not immediately arrested for Piracy after saving the life of Governor Swann’s daughter Elizabeth and going at it in a sword fight with a eunuch. It was a safe bet in those ten years Sparrow was very much a pirate with the whole pirating goodness and what not. Another little skirmish between blacksmith and pirate and Jack was persuaded to help Will find Elizabeth after her kidnapping. Sparrow in turn would use Will, the blood of Bootstrap Bill as leverage in gaining his ship back. The curse of the Aztec Gold had seized Barbossa and the Black Pearl’s crew, locking them in a fate far worse then death.
Captain Jack persuaded William to follow him to Tortuga where he founded a odd crew to sail to Isla de la Muerte and exact his revenge and save the blacksmith’s bonny lass. They were able to catch up to the Pearl but unfortunately things didn’t go as planned and Jack and Elizabeth were marooned on a deserted island, the very same one Barbossa left his former Captain stranded. Much to his chagrin, Liz burned the rum and anything that wasn’t bolted down creating a plum of smoke that could be seen for miles achieving the attraction of the Navy captained by Commodore Norrington. From there, Jack was able to convince the Navy to go after the Pearl and a promise of a wedding ensured it.
Sneaking onto Isla de la Muerte, Jack resurfaces clapping and shouting amongst the Pearl crew as if nothing happened. He makes a deal with Barbossa, tricking him into luring his men out to attack the Navy. When it doesn’t quite go to plan, Sparrow works on keeping Will alive while sneaking a cursed coin into the cuff of his sleeve before engaging in a intense fight between himself and Barbossa. A matched battle of wits and strength, Barbossa is deceived into believing he has killed his enemy only to have Jack return as a cursed skeleton. It is by the blood of himself and Will does the curse finally lift, mere seconds after shooting his first mate leaving him to rot amongst his treasures.
Returning to the boats, Jack’s crew had left in keeping with the code leaving the Captain to face the gallows. Taken back to Port Royal, Sparrow is whisked off to be hung only to be narrowly saved from having his neck stretched by Will. Together the two fight their way through the courtyard only to be trapped by soldiers. Jack lets the two love birds say their little speech before ending with his and accidentally falling off the towering ledge. Landing in the water the Black Pearl appears like a ghost from behind the cliffs and once aboard and title of Captain returned to him, Jack sets course for a new voyage. Now bring me that horizon.
Interests: Pillaging and plundering, hunting down treasures, the normal Piracy stuff. Making deals with the devil, keeping the freedom going and really bad eggs.
RP Example: He thought he’d seen everything on the Isle of Tortuga but sitting sprawled in his favorite pub, the rough noise of men and women shouting to be heard above the roar of clinking mugs and the occasional crack of gunpowder, a set of deep blue eyes staring back at him from the edge of the table was something new. The little girl no older then three returned his gaze with unnervingly big eyes in silence. A twitch of his mouth started a curl of his upper lip and he lifted a thick brow nearly hidden by the faded bandana. Even sitting his body couldn’t settle, feeling the afterglow of waves caressing the side of his vessel as she split through the aqua water. Jack rubbed his index finger against the handle of his mug before downing half the pint of rum and looked back to the eyes.
It was still staring at him. Waiting... watching. Bloody hell, what did it want. He shifted once and his mouth twisted into a wry grin of gold and yellowed teeth. Maybe if he said something, it’d go away. “Hullo.” Bugger, it was still there. Pursing his lips Sparrow flicked a stale slice of bread to the floor and the eyes disappeared as the child scrambled to her knees in search of the morsel. Straightening, a knowing smile crossed his tanned face. That was brilliant, he wasn’t Captain Jack d**n. The child was back this time slobbering on the bread he had tossed.
He hissed, making a sharp sound to scare it away. Quick little jerking movements of his hand to shoo the child on, while his other remained grasping the mug of rum as if it his lifeline. Children were unpredictable, messy, small and smelly. Not that he worried about hygiene but his men didn’t soil themselves on a daily basis and if they did... That brought a tightening of his brow at the visualization and a nostril flared at the imagined smell. Never good with children, he had to look at it in a different perspective. Children were just miniature versions of people. Marty was short and he talked to the man without trouble. “Lost are we?” He held out his mug. “Err... drink?”
To his dismay the tiny face crumbled up and tears welled in the big blue eyes. Immediately Jack waved a hand wildly to grasp the child’s attention. “No, no,” his voice warning. “Don’t-“ The keening wail rose above the crowd and the metal in his teeth vibrated. “...cry.” He rolled his eyes up followed by a rise of his hands palm up as if asking the Heavens why him. Jack sighed loudly that ended in a groan before he tipped the last of the mug’s contents and slammed the metal cup down to face his newest problem. The pirate leaned forward and lifted a hand towards the child before drawing back curling his fingers towards his palm as the scream grew louder. He lofted a brow in disconcert and the depth of his gaze flicked to the closest people around him in a vain attempt of seeking help. Drunks and ladies of the night, none looked too eager to come to his aid.
“All right luv, come sit on uncle Jack’s knee.” He patted his leg and to his disbelief the child scampered over to him and allowed the pirate to pick her up and set her on his lap. How did he go from fearsome pirate to a lush in the span of one evening? Instantly the child looked up through the dirt that streaked her face and held up the drooled on bread. Oh good, just what he always wanted. He refused and the tears appeared. “All right, all right,” He accepted the slobbery bread holding it between two fingers as a woman would hold a dead rat. His left eye twitched and he grimaced, flicking his tongue against his teeth at the dreaded task.
“Thank ye luv, this looks- Oh what’s that?” He pointed and the child turned to look. Jack tossed the soggy slice over his shoulder and wiped his fingers clean on the front of his shirt while smacking his lips. He smiled, tightness to his fine lips revealing the falseness of it. “Delicious. Couldn’t eat another bite.” He leaned back as if trying to escape undetected as the little girl returned the smile and watched the scenery from her new position. Jack slumped and set an elbow on the edge of the table, resting his chin on knuckles and grumbled silently.
The little girl made a twitter sound and Jack’s eyes swiveled to the corner of kohl to look at where she was pointing. Gibbs stood with a set of newly filled mugs of rum staring back at the odd scene before quietly taking his seat across from his Captain and pushed the metal cup towards Jack. His own bright eyes danced to the girl who decided to hold a conversation with an invisible person and back to Jack before hiding behind the rim of his mug. His grin evident in the slight ruffle of sideburns.
“Not a word Mr. Gibbs.”
“Aye sir.”
Other: I’d prefer Jack to not fall in love, however as time passes this could change. I don’t mind creating a relationship but respect your Captain and mine decisions and answers.
Code: running jack, undead
Picture: Working on a sig pic, but to tie my lovelys over
Name: Captain Jack Sparrow, don’t forget the Captain mate
Age: Between the weathering harshness of the ocean and his child like exuberance, to put an age to Jack is hard pressed, but a rough guess would be 37 years
Sex: Male
Career: Pirate and Captain of the Black Pearl
Lives: Wherever the wind takes him aboard the Pearl
Appearance: Dirty, unkempt dreadlocks are the easiest way to maintain the raven colored hair out on the sea. Several loose braids seem to float free from under the sun weathered red scar tied around his head. It drops low to his brow covering half of his head. A thick braid keeps more hair swept out of the way with an almost last minute ponytail of shorter hair sprouting from above his right brow. Affixed with a sliver of nondescript bone, one can only hope animal with two cords decorated with glass, wood and clay beads with a trinket of silver at the end. Scruffy thin beard and mustache lines his jaw and mouth where most of the length falls from his chin braided into two parts fastened with a bead at the end. Along the right side of his jaw a splotch of discoloring in what appears to be a burn mark, most of the course hair of his beard has not grown back leaving a bald patch per say. His skin has been tanned by years under the blistering sun and harsh salt air. Eyes the color of rich soil, there’s a certain wildness to them accentuated by his natural albeit odd expressions, Lined with kohl, the dark coloring draws you into his hypnotizing gaze. His face, half hidden by the mass of hair and bandanna doesn’t quite cover the delicate cheekbones and concubine lips that shine through.
Sparrow wears a unbleached linen shirt with a banded collar and chest lacings of heavy cording. Always worn open as if unaware of the tanned skin he reveals or the small tattoo along the left side of his chest. Over this is a thin dingy blue vest that looks as though it would fall off his narrow shoulders. Never buttoned but kept in place with a red and white stripped gypsy looking scarf tied around his tapered waist. It flairs to mid thigh while cutting short in the back. This emphasizes his effeminate traits of a slender body. His hands are a contradiction to his lifestyle, willowy fingers better suited for a pianist decorated with a few rings of gold and silver adorned with etched skulls and precious gems. A black and red rag once made of fine silk wrapped nonchalantly around his right wrist that hides the branded P, a gift from the West India Trading companies. Above the scarred brand is a tattoo of s Sparrow flying over a sinking sun. On his opposite arm a ragged scar stretches from his wrist to inner elbow. Two gunshot scars mark the right side of his chest just barely missing his heart.
He wears a fading brown breeches that hang low and fitting around his hips but swim around lean muscular legs, cutting mid calf with two tarnished buttons running along the outside edge. These are hidden by the worn tan leather boots that nearly reach his knees overlapping the breeches. At times he sports a graying coat decorated with large silver buttons. Fitted at his shoulders, the heavy and spacious sleeves cup around his wrist freeing his hands for easy movement and curl around his knees. He wears a leather baldric with a simple silver buckle that keeps his sheathed cutlass within easy reach at his left hip. Another belt cinches his pistol at his thigh. From his belt dangles the famous compass that doesn’t point North. And the most important piece of the ensemble is Jack’s leather tricorner hat. With a heavy X shaped stitching at each corner it’s withhold the test of time and one of his most treasured effects.
Personality: The persona he portrays and is are two different people intertwined on some plane of existence. A drunken swagger complemented by an awkward flailing of arms and hands give him the manifestation of a wandering and lost mind, more then likely from being stranded on a deserted island with no protection from the scorching sun. He uses this to his benefit, confusing his enemy who may think him weaker. Lies are apart of him but he speaks more truth then most Pirates to many a disbelief and is often put off when a person is skeptical. You can always trust him to be dishonest be it for a better or worse situation. Unusual for a pirate Sparrow is known for his selfless nature, putting himself in harms way to save other people. This has gotten him into more trouble and caused many a problem but he doesn’t seem close to rectifying this good trait. Ladies man, however good at wooing and sweeping them off their feet he can never keep a relationship for his true love lies with the sea. Freedom is what he longs for, more so then treasures. Don’t misunderstand; a good bounty is always a great catch but the journey to the pretty shinnies is worth far more.
History: The details of Jack Sparrow’s life are never the same, changing with the wind becoming elaborate with a bottle of rum while sometimes being as indirect as possible. Whatever the finesse Jack wishes to indulge, history can’t be altered. Born Jack Smith, Sparrow was born in India on October the twenty fifth. His mother a common woman of the streets, a courtesan of the ports. She was as beautiful as she was kind. His father a scurvy pirate of lore. What little or vast magic fell between these two polar opposites, Jack was a ending result.
The love of the sea in his blood, it was inevitable that he took up the position of Privateer for the West India Trading Companies in his early life. He helmed the Wicked Wench an EITC merchant vessel performing odd jobs for Lord Cutler Beckett. Most were transporting cargo through a few hazardous regions often skirting around Pirates themselves. Jack complied relishing in the small bit of freedom he had out at sea but he put everything on the line when he refused to transport slaves for Beckett. He stood up for the men and women enslaved and bound for England to be auctioned off like cattle and in response his Lord struck back. Cutler left his mark in fading bruises and cuts with a lasting brand that sealed Jack’s fate. As if it wasn’t cruel enough to torture the young man, the Wicked Wench was sunk before his very eyes.
Leaving behind his old life baring the scars of a Pirate, Jack slipped out from under the very nose of the India Trading and sought out his ship. He wanted nothing but his own vessel back, knowing every inch of the Wench after spending years aboard her. Sparrow hunted down the fable Davy Jones coming across him and his crew during a storm. He struck a deal with the Captain for his soul, the Wench would be given back him and he would be Captain over her for thirteen years. It was a easy deal, the freedom of the sea calling to him and perhaps clouded his decision. The Wicked Wench was resurrected from the bottom of the ocean and was christened the Black Pearl.
Finally the Captain of his own ship, Jack formed a crew his first mate and most trusted man by the name of Hector Barbossa. Many an adventure under their belt, the Pearl set off for a legendary treasure of Aztec gold but it soon was apparent that Barbossa wasn’t the trusted man Jack thought him to be. During the night, Sparrow’s first mate came to him and proposed the crew ought to have equal share of everything, including the whereabouts of treasure. Finding it the right thing to do, Jack gave up the location and was mutinied and marooned on a deserted Island with nothing more then a pistol and a single shot to stave off the misery of starving to death. The fates smiled upon the lone pirate and despite the tales he weaves, Jack only spent three days on the island finding a stash of rum kept by rum runners. He was then able to barter safe passage off the Isle and with revenge in tow, he set his sight on killing Barbossa.
Ten years later, Jack washed upon the shores of Port Royal and was soon if not immediately arrested for Piracy after saving the life of Governor Swann’s daughter Elizabeth and going at it in a sword fight with a eunuch. It was a safe bet in those ten years Sparrow was very much a pirate with the whole pirating goodness and what not. Another little skirmish between blacksmith and pirate and Jack was persuaded to help Will find Elizabeth after her kidnapping. Sparrow in turn would use Will, the blood of Bootstrap Bill as leverage in gaining his ship back. The curse of the Aztec Gold had seized Barbossa and the Black Pearl’s crew, locking them in a fate far worse then death.
Captain Jack persuaded William to follow him to Tortuga where he founded a odd crew to sail to Isla de la Muerte and exact his revenge and save the blacksmith’s bonny lass. They were able to catch up to the Pearl but unfortunately things didn’t go as planned and Jack and Elizabeth were marooned on a deserted island, the very same one Barbossa left his former Captain stranded. Much to his chagrin, Liz burned the rum and anything that wasn’t bolted down creating a plum of smoke that could be seen for miles achieving the attraction of the Navy captained by Commodore Norrington. From there, Jack was able to convince the Navy to go after the Pearl and a promise of a wedding ensured it.
Sneaking onto Isla de la Muerte, Jack resurfaces clapping and shouting amongst the Pearl crew as if nothing happened. He makes a deal with Barbossa, tricking him into luring his men out to attack the Navy. When it doesn’t quite go to plan, Sparrow works on keeping Will alive while sneaking a cursed coin into the cuff of his sleeve before engaging in a intense fight between himself and Barbossa. A matched battle of wits and strength, Barbossa is deceived into believing he has killed his enemy only to have Jack return as a cursed skeleton. It is by the blood of himself and Will does the curse finally lift, mere seconds after shooting his first mate leaving him to rot amongst his treasures.
Returning to the boats, Jack’s crew had left in keeping with the code leaving the Captain to face the gallows. Taken back to Port Royal, Sparrow is whisked off to be hung only to be narrowly saved from having his neck stretched by Will. Together the two fight their way through the courtyard only to be trapped by soldiers. Jack lets the two love birds say their little speech before ending with his and accidentally falling off the towering ledge. Landing in the water the Black Pearl appears like a ghost from behind the cliffs and once aboard and title of Captain returned to him, Jack sets course for a new voyage. Now bring me that horizon.
Interests: Pillaging and plundering, hunting down treasures, the normal Piracy stuff. Making deals with the devil, keeping the freedom going and really bad eggs.
RP Example: He thought he’d seen everything on the Isle of Tortuga but sitting sprawled in his favorite pub, the rough noise of men and women shouting to be heard above the roar of clinking mugs and the occasional crack of gunpowder, a set of deep blue eyes staring back at him from the edge of the table was something new. The little girl no older then three returned his gaze with unnervingly big eyes in silence. A twitch of his mouth started a curl of his upper lip and he lifted a thick brow nearly hidden by the faded bandana. Even sitting his body couldn’t settle, feeling the afterglow of waves caressing the side of his vessel as she split through the aqua water. Jack rubbed his index finger against the handle of his mug before downing half the pint of rum and looked back to the eyes.
It was still staring at him. Waiting... watching. Bloody hell, what did it want. He shifted once and his mouth twisted into a wry grin of gold and yellowed teeth. Maybe if he said something, it’d go away. “Hullo.” Bugger, it was still there. Pursing his lips Sparrow flicked a stale slice of bread to the floor and the eyes disappeared as the child scrambled to her knees in search of the morsel. Straightening, a knowing smile crossed his tanned face. That was brilliant, he wasn’t Captain Jack d**n. The child was back this time slobbering on the bread he had tossed.
He hissed, making a sharp sound to scare it away. Quick little jerking movements of his hand to shoo the child on, while his other remained grasping the mug of rum as if it his lifeline. Children were unpredictable, messy, small and smelly. Not that he worried about hygiene but his men didn’t soil themselves on a daily basis and if they did... That brought a tightening of his brow at the visualization and a nostril flared at the imagined smell. Never good with children, he had to look at it in a different perspective. Children were just miniature versions of people. Marty was short and he talked to the man without trouble. “Lost are we?” He held out his mug. “Err... drink?”
To his dismay the tiny face crumbled up and tears welled in the big blue eyes. Immediately Jack waved a hand wildly to grasp the child’s attention. “No, no,” his voice warning. “Don’t-“ The keening wail rose above the crowd and the metal in his teeth vibrated. “...cry.” He rolled his eyes up followed by a rise of his hands palm up as if asking the Heavens why him. Jack sighed loudly that ended in a groan before he tipped the last of the mug’s contents and slammed the metal cup down to face his newest problem. The pirate leaned forward and lifted a hand towards the child before drawing back curling his fingers towards his palm as the scream grew louder. He lofted a brow in disconcert and the depth of his gaze flicked to the closest people around him in a vain attempt of seeking help. Drunks and ladies of the night, none looked too eager to come to his aid.
“All right luv, come sit on uncle Jack’s knee.” He patted his leg and to his disbelief the child scampered over to him and allowed the pirate to pick her up and set her on his lap. How did he go from fearsome pirate to a lush in the span of one evening? Instantly the child looked up through the dirt that streaked her face and held up the drooled on bread. Oh good, just what he always wanted. He refused and the tears appeared. “All right, all right,” He accepted the slobbery bread holding it between two fingers as a woman would hold a dead rat. His left eye twitched and he grimaced, flicking his tongue against his teeth at the dreaded task.
“Thank ye luv, this looks- Oh what’s that?” He pointed and the child turned to look. Jack tossed the soggy slice over his shoulder and wiped his fingers clean on the front of his shirt while smacking his lips. He smiled, tightness to his fine lips revealing the falseness of it. “Delicious. Couldn’t eat another bite.” He leaned back as if trying to escape undetected as the little girl returned the smile and watched the scenery from her new position. Jack slumped and set an elbow on the edge of the table, resting his chin on knuckles and grumbled silently.
The little girl made a twitter sound and Jack’s eyes swiveled to the corner of kohl to look at where she was pointing. Gibbs stood with a set of newly filled mugs of rum staring back at the odd scene before quietly taking his seat across from his Captain and pushed the metal cup towards Jack. His own bright eyes danced to the girl who decided to hold a conversation with an invisible person and back to Jack before hiding behind the rim of his mug. His grin evident in the slight ruffle of sideburns.
“Not a word Mr. Gibbs.”
“Aye sir.”
Other: I’d prefer Jack to not fall in love, however as time passes this could change. I don’t mind creating a relationship but respect your Captain and mine decisions and answers.
Code: running jack, undead
Picture: Working on a sig pic, but to tie my lovelys over