Request Ficlet for Teresa_C
Apr. 3rd, 2005 04:19 pmAnd the last request ficlet I'm going to do, for now, is for
teresa_c, who wanted...
Jack took another deep swig of rum, wiped his mouth and looked at his fair companion, seated next to him on the sand. Coltish, beautiful, petulant. He’d lay he could wipe that frown away, though, given half a chance. Not that he’d be given it, of course, unless the drink took her out of herself. And if it did, would he take the chance? He thought about it, thought about slipping an arm ‘round those slender shoulders, thought about placing a kiss on lips that were slightly parted in adorable confusion, thought about touching…
“What are you looking at?” she demanded, suddenly, having noticed his perusal.
“You, of course,” he replied, easily. He took another swig, then looked again, sidelong.
“Well, don’t! It isn’t polite.”
He chuckled. “Polite! Just who is it you think you’re marooned with, here, Miss Swann?”
“Captain Jack Sparrow!” she snapped. “Or so you say.”
He scowled a bit at the note of doubt. “The one in that bloody pamphlet I suppose.”
“Do not use profanity. You told me there was truth in those stories.”
“There is. Some of it.” He took another drink, and then noticed she was looking him over, with obvious disapproval. “What?”
“You don’t look like him at all!”
“Like who?”
“There was an illustration.”
Jack stared, and then growled, “I don’t bloody care if there was a bloody marble statue! If it don’t look like me, it’s artist’s fault, not mine!” There was amusement in her eyes, and he narrowed his and took another swig of rum.
“Did you really steal the Interceptor? With James right there?”
“James?”
“Capt—Commodore Norrington.”
“Oh. Did Will tell you that?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
She frowned. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “No. Commandeered it. Nautical term.” As understanding dawned on her face, he added, “It’s all in how you look at it. Savvy?”
A slow smile touched her lips. “Oh, yes. I savvy.” She lifted her bottle. “Cheers, Captain Sparrow.”
“Cheers, Miss Swann,” he returned, his bottle not so much clinking as caressing hers.
~.~
~ Point of View ~
Jack took another deep swig of rum, wiped his mouth and looked at his fair companion, seated next to him on the sand. Coltish, beautiful, petulant. He’d lay he could wipe that frown away, though, given half a chance. Not that he’d be given it, of course, unless the drink took her out of herself. And if it did, would he take the chance? He thought about it, thought about slipping an arm ‘round those slender shoulders, thought about placing a kiss on lips that were slightly parted in adorable confusion, thought about touching…
“What are you looking at?” she demanded, suddenly, having noticed his perusal.
“You, of course,” he replied, easily. He took another swig, then looked again, sidelong.
“Well, don’t! It isn’t polite.”
He chuckled. “Polite! Just who is it you think you’re marooned with, here, Miss Swann?”
“Captain Jack Sparrow!” she snapped. “Or so you say.”
He scowled a bit at the note of doubt. “The one in that bloody pamphlet I suppose.”
“Do not use profanity. You told me there was truth in those stories.”
“There is. Some of it.” He took another drink, and then noticed she was looking him over, with obvious disapproval. “What?”
“You don’t look like him at all!”
“Like who?”
“There was an illustration.”
Jack stared, and then growled, “I don’t bloody care if there was a bloody marble statue! If it don’t look like me, it’s artist’s fault, not mine!” There was amusement in her eyes, and he narrowed his and took another swig of rum.
“Did you really steal the Interceptor? With James right there?”
“James?”
“Capt—Commodore Norrington.”
“Oh. Did Will tell you that?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
She frowned. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “No. Commandeered it. Nautical term.” As understanding dawned on her face, he added, “It’s all in how you look at it. Savvy?”
A slow smile touched her lips. “Oh, yes. I savvy.” She lifted her bottle. “Cheers, Captain Sparrow.”
“Cheers, Miss Swann,” he returned, his bottle not so much clinking as caressing hers.
~.~
no subject
Date: 2005-04-03 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-03 09:17 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed this.