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

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?

I did nothing wrong to him, if that's what you're insinuating, Kennedy! Just let him be and gave him his lace and porridge!

[Oh crap the lace--did he take the lace? He must have put it in the pocket of Jack's trousers, which he then gave to Buffy. Crap, crap. He'd been planning to give that to Buffy for Dawn's new gown. Ah, well, he still has the bit of lace Jack gave him some weeks ago, and that will do. This way Jack gets a little of what he gave away back, in reparation for the milk. He manages to sound calm and nonchalant. Somehow.]

Don't cause a fuss, Jack. I'll bring by some milk for you if that's all you need.

[Jack just MIGHT put two and two together actually, since Buffy very obligingly was tricked into spilling the beans about who didn't want her to tell the pirate about what had happened to his clothing. If that lace is in the pocket?]

I don't want any buggered milk. I want to hang that tiny cretin by his toes, is what I want.

[Unfortunately for Archie, that lace will be in that pocket.]

At least he made you exquisite curtains?

Kennedy. I'm a pirate what's about to move out to the seaside any day now. Exquisite curtains are not my primary concern.

And a couple of dishes of spoiled milk are?

Well I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, aren't I? And Captain Jack Sparrow's not one to suffer a wee fairy bastard to live.

You suffered him well enough when he was making you curtains.

THAT WERE DIFFERENT. NOW THE MILK'S ALL TURNED ROUND AND SOMEONE'S STOLEN MY PIRATEY SHIRT!

[Not to mention Jack's temper is short now that his DP has come home to him.]

[Silence on the other end. He's just going to wait until Jack calms down.]

Edited 2011-04-04 02:18 (UTC)

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