simplestgift | Eight Bells: [Action/Written]

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Eight Bells: [Action/Written]

[Luceti, Jack Sparrow now has drapes. They are lovely drapes, made of something like spiderweb silk and dyed a nice, neutral, manlyish color. The furniture and silver are both polished. There is even a new rug on the living room floor. Everything looks very home-ish.

Jack's clothes, on the other hand, are strewn all over the place, and every drop of dairy is badly curdled. Missing is a pair of trousers and Jack's Jolly Roger t-shirt.

Archie Kennedy comes dashing into town from the Cullen House wearing a pair of trousers and a Jolly Roger t-shirt. He'll make his way as quickly as is possible to his own apartment to get dressed properly so no one will suspect he spent the week with Jack--least of all Jack. He can be run into at any point.

After all this is accomplished and he's eaten something at Seventh Heaven that does not include porridge, honey, or cream, he will sit down to write this note.]

May I speak with a tailor in this town?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For Dawn?

.....Oh. But you'd need a dressmaker, not a tailor! Or a curtain-maker; a very small tiny ugly man has made me curtains. You might try him.

Edited 2011-04-02 20:55 (UTC)

That's...very strange.

[DAMNDAMNDAMNDAMNDAMNDAMN...]

It was strange, actually, Kennedy. And this morning my pirate shirt went missing.

Strange things have happened this week.

And my trousers...

Your trousers!

...You have more than one pair, I assume?

I do, lad, but I just find the whole thing rather odd. These curtains, though? Exquisite! Clearly that tiny imp had an eye for interior decoration and also a taste for porridge.

[Everything in Archie is screaming to GET OFF THIS SUBJECT! So.]

Have you moved the boat yet?

[...Secretly, he takes pride in the curtains. They were pretty beautiful, that nice warm honey-gold color he'd dyed them with onion skins.]

I...have moved it, aye.

[And it didn't end so well, Archie. Not well at all.]

She's out by the shore now, floating pretty as can be.

Then when are we setting out?

You still haven't bested me in a match, have you, Kennedy. Have we been practicing? Where HAVE you been all week, if you don't mind me asking?

Practicing.

Three hundred times per day? Religiously? How do your arms and legs feel?

You haven't seen me about, have you?

[And he has been practicing. With a twig, mostly. Apparently he had super-stamina as a brownie, though, so he's not quite sure if all that practice really counted.]

I haven't, which is why I asked, actually. Arms and legs? Sufficiently knackered?

And as I said, you haven't seen me about. Completely knackered.

And feeling a bit like they might detach from your body?

God, I wish they would. [He tries to sound as miserable as possible.]

Good. [Jack sounds somewhat satisfied with that.] When I trained in Italy, I often begged whoever might be listening to cut my limbs off. Much more comfortabler than the constant aching, but what comes of practice, boy, is perfection.

Hang on---hang a bit---there's a rather horrible odor in my house, Kennedy...

[Oh damn, that would be the milk. Archie waits in silence, internally wincing already.]

[There are the sounds of a pirate searching around a bit. Then?]

UGH! A dish of spoiled milk! What...?!

[Damndamndamndamndamndamndamn...]

That little devil! He made me these curtains, savvy? And then he went about leaving me....BUGGER, here's another dish of it!

[Really, Jack, he does feel pretty bad about that. You did great, and he did make your house all homey and everything, and he doesn't even remember curdling all your milk.]

Treat him well, did you?

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