[ It's a pretty normal night, which is welcome, after after getting caught up in that Shadow Ball, which was a little too much debauchery at once, even for Jack. It's nice to catch his breath, lounge on the couch with his head in Anne's lap and read a book - a history of this place from the library, that gives him more questions than answers.
Eventually, he puts it down open-faced on his stomach, and looks up at Anne. ]
I've been thinking about this contract business. I think I know who I'd like to ask.
[ Pending Anne's approval, or at least acceptance, obvious enough that it doesn't need to be clarified aloud. ]
One Cornelius Hickey...I met him at that party, before it dissolved into total madness.
She'd been content just to sit here until they both decided to go to bed; she's trying not to think about anything, and it's going quite well, since she's focused almost entirely on the feel of Jack's hair as she sifts the strands through her fingers, but of course he has to break the silence, and with that of all things. ]
[ As she should, much to think about, really. Regular access to shampoo and conditioner has done wonders for it. ]
That's what I said, yes. Had a dance, had a chat, and...whatnot.
[ He's not hiding it. Not really. It just hasn't come up until now, and it doesn't exactly spill so easily from his tongue that he's fucking men now, apparently, as it did when he told her about Ducky. It's different, an itch that needed scratching, maybe not so much as Anne's, but one that Jack can recognize was too easy to indulge. Like all he needed was a new environment and a soft nudge, to veer off onto paths he'd barely even looked down.
He shifts to get a better angle to look up at her face with, but please, don't take it as a reason to quit playing with his hair. ]
[ Should have expected that. He hesitates just a moment, chewing his tongue, fingers drumming against the hard cover of his book. It shouldn't be a bombshell admission, given what they both now know about Anne's preferences, but it feels like one. It's different for men like him, it must be, even in a place like this where he knows, logically, that nobody gives a shit, to open himself up to being perceived differently. To prove people right who had demeaned or doubted him. Anne's toughness is never in question the same way his is.
But he can't hide from her. Doesn't want to, but also quite literally can not, especially if this works out the way he's planning. ]
Fucked him, at the party. In a storage room, like a damn teenager.
[ Feels good to say so out loud, actually. He doesn't sound ashamed, because his internal fight was all but over before the door had closed behind them. He's always been more concerned with perceptions, how he's seen by Anne or Charles or whoever the fuck else. ]
[ If she's completely honest with herself, it doesn't surprise her. Well, it does, but not at its most fundamental level. Honestly, the fact that Jack might have an interest in men, however unexplored, almost goes without saying. She likes women, he likes men. Makes sense. Fits.
What does surprise her is that he'd fucked some stranger for a first go, although maybe that's not such a strange thing either. What other options would he have? She doesn't say anything for a long time as she's taking it in, gazing down. ]
Jack looks up at her, searching for any tension or hesitation or hurt, anything that might change his mind about this. But she seems to be taking it better than he had. Of course she is. If anyone would understand it, it's Anne. ]
I'm asking you if I can invite him to stay here, what do you think?
[ He lets out a long breath, and the attitude with it. ]
Yeah...it was. I don't know if it was a revelation, exactly. [ The way things were with Anne and Max. It hasn't made him less interested in women. ] But I enjoyed it. It's got me...curious. I'd do it again, I think.
[ Well, it'd be weird if he contracted the man and then didn't, but Anne doesn't say that. She just purses her lips, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling. It's been comfortable here, just the two of them and nobody else to get in their way. But of course he'd come up here. ]
Ain't gonna stop you.
[ That sounds non-committal, and it's because she is, though she isn't resentful about it. ]
[ Plenty of pairs out there contracted purely out of convenience. They were getting on just fine before Hickey put his dick in his mouth, the arrangement would probably work without sex, but why should it? If they're both still excited by the idea, still high on the others' attention, and Anne can accept it...why not? ]
[ Not that she's concerned Jack thinks they fucked. Obviously they didn't, and obviously Jack knows that. It's more that she wants him to know they had a conversation. They talked long enough without Anne coming out of the encounter with a dirty blade. ]
He's alright.
[ A pause, during which she swallows something back, and then decides she is going to say it after all. Fuck it. ]
[ All that's about as close to a seal of approval as Jack's likely to get out of her, so he'll call it a win. It's a relief, actually, to know that they've had a civil enough conversation that he doesn't have to anticipate any nasty surprises. Or it would be, if not for what she says next. ]
What do you mean by that?
[ He bristles. Hickey's a sneaky redhead, Anne's a sneaky redhead...what's not tracking, exactly? ]
[ Anne's lips purse again, tighter this time. She could just beg off, tell him to fuck off and get up and go poking around in the kitchen, the conversation changed. But maybe it's time they talked about this. Not like it changes things between them, it's just – well, she'd like to talk about it. ]
Taller, for one.
[ Is she smiling? Certainly not. It's just a trick of the light. ]
[ Taller? Sorry darling, just because he's fucked one man doesn't mean he can't be deeply repressed about another. No idea what's so funny, what's got her smiling like she knows something.
She might have a point, though. She didn't up and decide to hop into bed with Max on a whim, the desire had been simmering for a long time. Had to start somewhere. A look. An accidental touch that lingers a blink too long. Long nights in the captain's quarters drinking and dreaming and ribbing each other and having a laugh, where somewhere in the back of one's head it occurs that something could happen, which never materializes.
Something like that. Maybe. It's not quite clear to him still, even with Anne staring down and trying to pull the denial out of him. ]
Nothing ever happened between us. I was never...compelled the same way you were. Always had so much other shit to worry about.
[ And so, just looks. The odd fantasy, when voyages ran on too long. Nothing wrong with a look. ]
Suppose if I've got a type, it's whatever you and Charles have in common.
[ Her tone isn't disgusted or even annoyed, and as she looks at him longer, even the last vestiges of suspicion have lifted entirely from her expression. She just looks fond, her face softening until she's looking at him the way she only ever really looks at him. Nobody else. ]
Ain't nothing to be ashamed of. It doesn't fucking change who you are.
[ That look...it's hard not to smile up at her. It makes him feel lighter, like there's a burden off his shoulders he hadn't realized was there. It's so rare that he feels any genuine understanding thrown his way, except for hers. It's always her. ]
I know that. You know that. Many people don't.
[ Not that anyone else's opinions but hers and the former captain's matter to him nearly as much, but people already think he's a fop as it is. Why add fuel to that fire, when he's got a crew to manage?
It's different here, though. Hard to deny that. ]
Back home, at least. Nobody gives a shit here, anyone just fucks anyone right over the tavern bars.
[ Time to get over it, then. If Anne can do so in much more hostile circumstances, he can buck the fuck up. ]
[ She says it with a roll of her eyes, like it's a foregone conclusion. She's got no problem with Hickey, as long as he doesn't get in the fucking way, but Jack's not stupid. To be interested in this man, Jack must see something in him worth keeping around. Anne understands that. ]
Jack—
[ A moment of hesitation, only because she wants to double-check her words before she says them. Anne presses her lips together, her hand tightening a little in his hair. ]
[ His version of playing nice with Max had more resemblance to a pair of cats circling each other, trying to decide if the fight would be worth the satisfaction of the pounce, so it doesn't hurt to make sure. Jack trusts her, though, to let him know if there's any trouble beyond the inconvenience of having their space invaded.
He leans into the touch even further, enjoying the gentle tug at his scalp with a soft sigh. ]
backdated....shortly after the event??
Eventually, he puts it down open-faced on his stomach, and looks up at Anne. ]
I've been thinking about this contract business. I think I know who I'd like to ask.
[ Pending Anne's approval, or at least acceptance, obvious enough that it doesn't need to be clarified aloud. ]
One Cornelius Hickey...I met him at that party, before it dissolved into total madness.
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She'd been content just to sit here until they both decided to go to bed; she's trying not to think about anything, and it's going quite well, since she's focused almost entirely on the feel of Jack's hair as she sifts the strands through her fingers, but of course he has to break the silence, and with that of all things. ]
You met him at the party.
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That's what I said, yes. Had a dance, had a chat, and...whatnot.
[ He's not hiding it. Not really. It just hasn't come up until now, and it doesn't exactly spill so easily from his tongue that he's fucking men now, apparently, as it did when he told her about Ducky. It's different, an itch that needed scratching, maybe not so much as Anne's, but one that Jack can recognize was too easy to indulge. Like all he needed was a new environment and a soft nudge, to veer off onto paths he'd barely even looked down.
He shifts to get a better angle to look up at her face with, but please, don't take it as a reason to quit playing with his hair. ]
You know him?
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Whatnot.
just some liiiiite internal homophobia in here
But he can't hide from her. Doesn't want to, but also quite literally can not, especially if this works out the way he's planning. ]
Fucked him, at the party. In a storage room, like a damn teenager.
[ Feels good to say so out loud, actually. He doesn't sound ashamed, because his internal fight was all but over before the door had closed behind them. He's always been more concerned with perceptions, how he's seen by Anne or Charles or whoever the fuck else. ]
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What does surprise her is that he'd fucked some stranger for a first go, although maybe that's not such a strange thing either. What other options would he have? She doesn't say anything for a long time as she's taking it in, gazing down. ]
Was it good?
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Jack looks up at her, searching for any tension or hesitation or hurt, anything that might change his mind about this. But she seems to be taking it better than he had. Of course she is. If anyone would understand it, it's Anne. ]
I'm asking you if I can invite him to stay here, what do you think?
[ He lets out a long breath, and the attitude with it. ]
Yeah...it was. I don't know if it was a revelation, exactly. [ The way things were with Anne and Max. It hasn't made him less interested in women. ] But I enjoyed it. It's got me...curious. I'd do it again, I think.
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Ain't gonna stop you.
[ That sounds non-committal, and it's because she is, though she isn't resentful about it. ]
Hickey... Short, pointy nose, redhead?
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That's him. So you have met?
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[ Not that she's concerned Jack thinks they fucked. Obviously they didn't, and obviously Jack knows that. It's more that she wants him to know they had a conversation. They talked long enough without Anne coming out of the encounter with a dirty blade. ]
He's alright.
[ A pause, during which she swallows something back, and then decides she is going to say it after all. Fuck it. ]
Wouldn't have thought he was your type.
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What do you mean by that?
[ He bristles. Hickey's a sneaky redhead, Anne's a sneaky redhead...what's not tracking, exactly? ]
What do you imagine my type of man to be?
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Taller, for one.
[ Is she smiling? Certainly not. It's just a trick of the light. ]
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Okay, some idea. ]
Why taller? What are you on about, Anne?
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You think I didn't see where your eyes went sometimes when we were on shore careening the Ranger?
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You think I want Charles?
[ Outrageous. Pure fiction. Total fantasy. ]
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...fine. I looked. Who hasn't? The way he walks into any room like he owns it, to the argument of no one. He makes it easy to...to look.
Doesn't mean anything.
[ Uh huh. ]
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Anne purses her lips and looks back down at him with an expression that tells him exactly how much she doesn't believe that. ]
Told myself that too. Every time I looked at Max a little bit too long. She just made it easy to look.
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[ Max is hot. Vane is hot. So what, he has eyes.
She might have a point, though. She didn't up and decide to hop into bed with Max on a whim, the desire had been simmering for a long time. Had to start somewhere. A look. An accidental touch that lingers a blink too long. Long nights in the captain's quarters drinking and dreaming and ribbing each other and having a laugh, where somewhere in the back of one's head it occurs that something could happen, which never materializes.
Something like that. Maybe. It's not quite clear to him still, even with Anne staring down and trying to pull the denial out of him. ]
Nothing ever happened between us. I was never...compelled the same way you were. Always had so much other shit to worry about.
[ And so, just looks. The odd fantasy, when voyages ran on too long. Nothing wrong with a look. ]
Suppose if I've got a type, it's whatever you and Charles have in common.
[ The ability to beat his ass, maybe? ]
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[ Her tone isn't disgusted or even annoyed, and as she looks at him longer, even the last vestiges of suspicion have lifted entirely from her expression. She just looks fond, her face softening until she's looking at him the way she only ever really looks at him. Nobody else. ]
Ain't nothing to be ashamed of. It doesn't fucking change who you are.
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I know that. You know that. Many people don't.
[ Not that anyone else's opinions but hers and the former captain's matter to him nearly as much, but people already think he's a fop as it is. Why add fuel to that fire, when he's got a crew to manage?
It's different here, though. Hard to deny that. ]
Back home, at least. Nobody gives a shit here, anyone just fucks anyone right over the tavern bars.
[ Time to get over it, then. If Anne can do so in much more hostile circumstances, he can buck the fuck up. ]
You'll do your best to get along?
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[ She says it with a roll of her eyes, like it's a foregone conclusion. She's got no problem with Hickey, as long as he doesn't get in the fucking way, but Jack's not stupid. To be interested in this man, Jack must see something in him worth keeping around. Anne understands that. ]
Jack—
[ A moment of hesitation, only because she wants to double-check her words before she says them. Anne presses her lips together, her hand tightening a little in his hair. ]
You'll be careful too, yeah?
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He leans into the touch even further, enjoying the gentle tug at his scalp with a soft sigh. ]
You know I will.
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[ It's a warning, for both their sakes, though she has no intention of bringing knives into the conversation. ]
Just want a better read on him. Ain't gonna hurt him. Did he suck your cock?
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[ Jack shifts, just enough to put the book back on the table and close his eyes, like he might have a little nap now that all this is settled-- ]
What? [ One eye open, peeking up at her with his face scrunched. ] He did. Does that make a difference?
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