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entrancelogs2013-09-14 04:47 pm
justguidelines) wrote in entrancelogs2013-09-14 04:47 pm
Entry tags:
[closed] Doors open and shut.
Who: Hector Barbossa (justguidelines) and Jack Sparrow (bottlearum)
Where:The Pearl's cabin Hector's room/probably ending in the kitchen. Whatever, these two go where they want.
When: To...Day...Ish. Post Hector's first mansion death.
Rating: Can't see it going higher than PG-13. And only then if they get in a slap-fight.
Summary: So these two morons haven't spoken since Jack shot Hector. Awkward peace-making times ahoy? Nutella.
The Story:
He hasn't bothered with making his presence known since waking up in the pool on some strange thing that floated. Even through the last little 'event', which was flatly nothing in comparison to the one before it, as his secret was laughable, when he'd read the little paper.
But he hasn't ventured out; not while others were shuffling about the mansion and murdering one another over the silliest of things. His wandering have been in the hours before dawn and the dead of night, which has been a nice change, if he's being honest. The absolute dullness of this place has already frayed his nerves, and dying certainly hasn't helped his temper or mood. But for the most part, he's avoided as much contact with anyone as possible, because everything that led up to being shot has given him a great deal to think about, and none of it he particularly feels the need to share.
And then, of course, there's the fact that he's also let slip more than he's ever, ever intended to, thanks to it. Jack knows things. He knows too many things, things over and done in the past where the door's been firmly shut with a vow never to revisit that period in time again and yet...
This place has made him.
So, no, he's not particularly keen on the idea of dealing with much of anyone, if he's being honest. It is - in all honesty - almost like being thrown into the past after the loss of the Cobra, where his own company is the only company he can stand, since everything else is just a reminder.
So instead, right this very moment, he's holed himself up once more into his room - a painful recreation of the cabin of the Pearl - as Rose sits on her swing hanging from the ceiling, busying herself with the ruffles of her dress and he idly keeps his hands occupied with a game of Patience, Queen of Spades finding her home over the King of Hearts. It's almost a ridiculous metaphor for...Well, everything, enough to get him to snort before flipping over the next card in the deck.
justguidelines) and Jack Sparrow (bottlearum)Where:
When: To...Day...Ish. Post Hector's first mansion death.
Rating: Can't see it going higher than PG-13. And only then if they get in a slap-fight.
Summary: So these two morons haven't spoken since Jack shot Hector. Awkward peace-making times ahoy? Nutella.
The Story:
He hasn't bothered with making his presence known since waking up in the pool on some strange thing that floated. Even through the last little 'event', which was flatly nothing in comparison to the one before it, as his secret was laughable, when he'd read the little paper.
But he hasn't ventured out; not while others were shuffling about the mansion and murdering one another over the silliest of things. His wandering have been in the hours before dawn and the dead of night, which has been a nice change, if he's being honest. The absolute dullness of this place has already frayed his nerves, and dying certainly hasn't helped his temper or mood. But for the most part, he's avoided as much contact with anyone as possible, because everything that led up to being shot has given him a great deal to think about, and none of it he particularly feels the need to share.
And then, of course, there's the fact that he's also let slip more than he's ever, ever intended to, thanks to it. Jack knows things. He knows too many things, things over and done in the past where the door's been firmly shut with a vow never to revisit that period in time again and yet...
This place has made him.
So, no, he's not particularly keen on the idea of dealing with much of anyone, if he's being honest. It is - in all honesty - almost like being thrown into the past after the loss of the Cobra, where his own company is the only company he can stand, since everything else is just a reminder.
So instead, right this very moment, he's holed himself up once more into his room - a painful recreation of the cabin of the Pearl - as Rose sits on her swing hanging from the ceiling, busying herself with the ruffles of her dress and he idly keeps his hands occupied with a game of Patience, Queen of Spades finding her home over the King of Hearts. It's almost a ridiculous metaphor for...Well, everything, enough to get him to snort before flipping over the next card in the deck.
wow, this became tl;dr really fast SORRY
Thankfully for all persons involved, Jack is rarely ever honest. And therefore, it was really more of a coincidence that the two of them hadn't run into each other since Jack shot Hector dead. For the second time.
And it's not because he's afraid. If Hector kills him in retaliation, it's not like Jack would stay dead, not in Wonderland. And really, there's not much of a point in killing anyone if they don't stay dead, is there?
No, dying is the least of his worries. Instead, it has more to do with the things that were mentioned before the killing happened. Jack hasn't thought about Christophe or Borya in years. He's had no reason to, having killed both of them. It was done, over with, and in the past. No need to think of it ever again.
But this place. It had shoved open that door and exposed all his secrets. To Hector, no less. And, what's worse, is that the mutiny that had been lead against him finally made sense.
So, yeah. Jack wasn't avoiding Hector. It was just happenstance.
But it wouldn't be long until they ran into each other again. The mansion and its grounds weren't exactly huge. It was only a matter of time. And Jack figures he would rather have it on his terms than be caught off guard. He just... has no reason to speak to Hector.
At least, not until he makes his way to the kitchen. It was morning - late for him, early for everyone else - and so the kitchen was empty when he walks in. He still doesn't understand this modern technology stuff, and so Jack goes riffling through the cabinets instead.
And that's when he comes across it.
"Nut-ella." He speaks out loud, turning the jar over in his hands. It's brown, he's fairly certain food isn't supposed to be brown. But it also happens to be sealed. And so, with a shrug - nothing risked, nothing earned - he opens the jar and scoops some of it on his finger, inspecting it one last time before popping the finger in his mouth.
And that's how Jack Sparrow found himself in front of Hector's door. He actually knocks on the door - there's not point busting in on him if he wasn't actually there, right? - rocking back and forth on his feet as he waits for Hector to open the door.
NEVER BE SORRY B(
And honestly, the last time he opened the door for anyone, it had been those two women with the absolute insistence that they give him a 'make over', which seemed to be nothing more than making him look as awful as they possibly could.
So it's with a bit of surprise that he glances up at the knock, from where he's shuffling the deck of cards, before looking to Rose, who's stopped her fiddling with her dress to look at the door, as well, one eyebrow moving upward. It's a wee bit early for the rest of that lot, too, so it's entirely suspicious.
And for a moment he considers pretended that he's simply 'not home'.
After all, there's not a single soul in this place that he wishes to speak to, and if they're knocking at his door this early, it doesn't bode well for Hector himself at all.
But in the end, Rose chitters, none-too-quietly, and he frowns at her, before slapping the cards on the table and standing. He's really going to have to train her to be a bit quieter. He really is.
But his pistol, which has been out on the table as he hasn't left the room, is picked up, because whoever has so decided to disturb his peace is going to learn he means business in that he doesn't wish to be bothered. They can all use a lesson in manners, anyway.
And when he reaches the door, it's swung open and pistol leveled, the hammer drawn back, and-
Jack. Honestly, he feels as though he should have known that. Though he certainly makes no move to lower the pistol or put it away, instead sliding his finger over the trigger.
"Jack." Because if there's one person he absolutely doesn't want to see, it's Jack Sparrow. He hasn't been avoiding him purposefully. He's simply not been in any of the same places at any of the same times. "And to what do I owe the pleasure this time. Heart, head...Is there some other part ye be forgetting, then, mate."
SORRY NOT SORRY, THEN?
He's about to think that maybe Hector isn't in his room when he hears the tell-tale sound of the monkey. This monkey was a different monkey, and Jack only knows that because this one is dressed in... well, dresses while the other one hadn't. As long as this one wasn't named after him, Jack doesn't really care.
Except, well. The monkey has served it's purpose in letting Jack know that Hector is, indeed, inside his room. He's about to throw all common courtesy out the window and walk into Hector's room uninvited when the door opens and a gun is shoved into his face.
Somehow, Jack isn't surprised.
Jack considers Hector's question for a few seconds before breaking out into a grin. "Don't think so." Jack's pretty proud of himself, all things considered. After all, how many people honestly get to say they've killed the same man twice? However, he's not about to grant Hector the opportunity to say he's killed Jack Sparrow even once and so, with two fingers, he pushes the barrel of the gun down and away from his face.
Getting around to the reason he bothered to come all the way up here, he raises the jar of nutella, making sure that Hector can see the label. "Have you seen this?" He asks, grin wide on his face. And, before Hector can accuse him of poisoning the food, Jack unscrews the cap and puts another finger into the jar and then his mouth. " 's liquid chocolate." And it tastes even better than it did before.
It's not an apology. He's gloating more than anything else. Look what I found and you didn't.
Yes, that.
He really should have seen this coming. He really should.
And it takes him a moment, to focus on the label of the jar Jack's holding. Nut-ella. What in the hell is Nut-ella, he has no idea, and it's certainly not made any more appealing with Jack poking his fingers all in it, is it? Of course it isn't. God only knows where those fingers have been. His own are quite a bit cleaner; he's even had a bath in the last week, after all.
"Liquid chocolate." He pauses, biting the inside of his cheek, eyeing both Jack and the jar skeptically. "To be honest, mate, I fail to see how it can remotely be better, considering you jamming your fingers all in it. In fact, this may have just turned me away from chocolate forever. Congratulations, Jack, you've done me a service."
no subject
--well, he's never gotten sick from eating with his fingers before, and that's what really matters.
Besides, he doesn't need to tell Hector how incredibly rare it is to find chocolate. Sweetened chocolate. In this quantity. In a jar. Sealed. It is possible to find chocolate, of course, but it's native to the lands of the Southern New World. Where the majority of slaves are sent, and have the highest rate of mortality. And so, Jack tends to... steer clear of it, just on principle.
But, if this is what the future is like - chocolate available in mass quantities, a noticeable lack of slaves - then Jack might be beginning to think that the future isn't that bad.
"Suit yourself, mate." He grins, rocking back on his feet. Because if Hector doesn't want any of it, that means that Jack gets the entire jar of liquid chocolate to himself.
no subject
And Hector is fairly sure that dip in the pool a month ago is something Jack actually considers a bath. He's wrong, of course, but he's willing to lay hard gold on it being the case.
Though - and here Hector shoots Jack a dirty, scathing little glare - he does very well know how rare it is to come across actual chocolate, even when raiding some of the finer merchant vessels. And he can't say that he, personally, has ever seen it in that quantity before, in a jar with its very own odd sort of lid. And it's certainly not like most of the decent sort of pirates travel further south than absolutely necessary. No, that's the land of picaroons, and they can have it, as far as he's concerned. He'd much rather stick to the Spanish Main, anyway. More profit to be had.
He knows it's rare. Beyond rare, actually, though he has no idea it's already sweetened. That, in itself, is a luxury that is rarely enjoyed in any sort of circumstance. You don't simply trot off to the sundry stores and buy yourself a hunk of chocolate. Not without drawing attention to yourself, at any rate.
And then there's that look on Jack's face. That smug, punchable face, and Hector knows what he's thinking. He knows. He knows Jack hopes he has given up on chocolate forever, because Jack is a greedy, greedy glutton.
And like hell Hector Barbossa will allow a thing like Jack Sparrow's dirty fingers call him a coward.
Which is why, after a moment of giving Jack that dirty, dark look, he reaches out to snatch the jar away. And to add insult to injury, he sticks his own finger in it, all the way up to the second knuckle of his finger and gives it a little wiggle, before pulling it out and wiggling said finger again at Jack, his own expression smug, before sticking in his mouth.
So Jack Sparrow can just take that and like it.
no subject
Jack had been enjoying his moment of triumph, thank you very much. Because he'd found something special, a luxury that had just been laying around in the cupboard. Something that he hadn't had to pay or steal to obtain. It was just there, sitting out the open, waiting for anyone to take it.
And that dark look Hector had been giving him was gratifying. Because Jack knows how often Hector indulges in luxuries. In hard to find items like apples and caviar and other such foods that the wealthy, and these people from the future, take for granted.
Which is why Jack had gleefully gone through Hector's basket of apples on the Pearl, picked out the best looking one and ate it in front of an cursed Hector. It's why he's here now. Because no matter how much Hector enjoys the nut-ella, he'll always know it was Jack who found it first and that in itself fills Jack with glee.
A glee that diminishes quickly when Hector snatches the jar out of his hand and sticks his own dirty fingers into the jar. And suddenly, Jack understands the whole 'You're touching it, I don't want it' thing Hector had been on about.
His face falls into a frown, especially when Hector wiggles his chocolate covered finger at him. He doesn't wait for Hector to make a decision about whither or not he likes the nut-ella or not, he snatches the jar back, clutching it to his chest protectively.
"Find your own jar! This one be mine!"
no subject
As much, anyway.
But there is the urge there, of course, to point out to Jack how he had traipsed all the way up here from wherever he found the Nut-ella to tell Hector all about it and shove it in his face. Which he gleefully gives in to.
Gleefully.
"Aye, be that so, Jack Sparrow. Well, who were it that came all the way up here banging on me door and shoving jars in me face demanding I do this or that after shoving their filthy fingers in it, then. Weren't I, Jack. Weren't I. Nay, that be you, mate. Aye. And so."
And with that, he reaches to get a good hold on the jar and tugs, because being honest, that stuff is absolutely amazing, Jack's finger dirt in it or not, and like hell he's going to let Jack just run off with it.
no subject
Granted... Jack hadn't exactly thought any further than 'laugh in Hector's face for finding something so wonderful', but he knows for a fact that Hector taking the jar of Nut-ella and slamming the door in his face wasn't part of that plan!
"That don't mean I was givin' it to you!" He would never. He'd found it, and that mean it was his, and he wasn't about to let Hector Barbossa take what he'd found away from him. Again.
Besides, Hector was a grown up adult, how much effort would it really take for him to walk down the stairs to the kitchen and get a jar of his own?
Not much.
Unless, of course, Hector had gotten lazy during his stay at Wonderland.
no subject
And he's still stronger, and he knows it. And he guarantees Jack very well remembers that face, especially as he firms his grip on the bottle, the fingers of one hand hooking around just so in the attempt to gouge Jack with his nails.
They aren't just there due to superstition, after all.
But doing that, he digs his own heels in and tugs back, gritting his teeth. He's not playing this game with Jack - no, he is not - because he's not going to give Jack the satisfaction of waving something under his nose and gloating about it. And if Jack thinks that is how it's going to go, he is wrong.
"Stop being." And he only tugs harder. "A great dribbly baby and let go!"
no subject
Unfortunately, Hector is stronger than Jack. It's becoming increasingly obvious, as Jack struggles to pull back with both hands on the Nut-ella jar and Hector's freakishly long nails digging into the side of his palms, that his is not a fight he's going to win.
But Jack's gotten out of tough situations before. And he'll get over this one, too. Because like Hell is Jack going to let Hector win.
Jack doesn't think. He acts.
With one swift movement, Jack lunges forward, and smacks his head against Hector's. In the ensuing confusion, he snatches the jar out of Hector's hands, turns down the hall...
...and flees.
no subject
Stars. Stars across his vision, and a throbbing right in his forehead, where Jack's unreasonably hard skull has collided with his own, and reflexively he relinquishes his grip to rub at the spot.
And when he looks up, he sees Jack fleeing the scene of the crime, and for a moment he is stunned - stunned - that Jack would do something so stupid. Because Jack has speed, of course. He doesn't have a bum leg. But Hector has endurance. More endurance than Jack will ever have.
"Jack. Sparrow." And he knows Jack can hear him, as his lungs are tempered from yelling over the noise of a busy deck and cannon fire, before he starts after him.
Like hell he's going to let Jack run off with the Nut-ella like that after bloody cheating, the little weasel. If nothing else, he owes Jack a broken nose, for the headbutt alone.
no subject
It does nothing but make Jack smirk. Because that sound? That enraged, angry tone in Hector's voice? That means Jack's winning. And, above most other things, Jack does enjoy winning. Especially when the loser is Hector Barbossa.
Jack sprints down along the hallway, and throws open the door to the stairs. Hector's room is on the sixth floor, and so that's twelve rows of half-floors that Jack needs to make it down. Although, to be quite honest, he's not entirely sure where he's running to.
There were a lot of rooms in the mansion, and therefore a lot of places for him to hide. And yet, at the same time, there truly weren't many places he could go. While the mansion was spacious, Wonderland itself was very... enclosed.
Not that there was cause for too much concern. He'll end up where he ends up, and he'll work out the details later. What truly matters is that Jack is a lot faster than Hector, hurrying down the stairs at two steps at a time.
And if he can outrun Hector, he can beat Hector.
no subject
And if there's one thing Hector knows, it's that he certainly does owe Jack for the headache starting up behind his eyes from that headbutt.
But he follows right behind, limp be damned, because like hell he's going to let Jack out of his sights. Really, one doesn't shove a jar of sweetened chocolate in a man's face and then try to claim it all for himself.
It's rude, and furthermore, rude.
"You can't run forever, Jack." And Jack very well knows that's true, as he starts down the stairs behind him, boots thudding heavily with every step he makes. "You know you don't get off scott free with that foolishness."
There are some accidental feelings in this tag, oops.
He shakes his head, trying to get the echoing words out. He doesn't need to outrun the world, not here, in Wonderland, and not back home either because they won and Jack hates thinking about the past, fuck you, Wonderland.
Besides, the only thing Jack has to outrun now, is Hector. And, honestly, that's easy.
"Watch me, mate!" He calls over his shoulder as he hits the bottom floor and shoves the door open, jar clutched tightly in his hand, determined now more than ever to win.
He makes a split decision and hurries into the kitchen. With any luck (And surely by now his luck has returned, right?) the door will be closed by the time Hector arrives and he'll have no idea where Jack went, so Jack can enjoy his chocolately victory in peace.
O-oh no.
Jack is, for a matter of record, damned lucky he hadn't knocked Hector's hat off, too.
But after giving it a few beats, letting Jack relax, think he's not being followed, he makes his way into the kitchen himself, purposely slamming the door open as hard as he can.
"Found you, ye gutless cur. Hand it over."
no subject
He moves towards the other end of the kitchen so he can sneak back out, up the stairs and into his own room. By the time Hector realizes he's been duped, Jack will be in his cabin, having ascended to delicious, sweetened chocolate Heaven.
But, of course, Jack doesn't make it more than two steps when the kitchen door is loudly and forcefully slammed open. Jack acts like any reasonable, rational person would.
He turns on his heel, gun in hand and pointing it directly at the person responsible.
He supposes he should be more surprised that it's Hector, but he's really not. He narrows his eyes, nutella in his left hand, gun in his right. He doesn't lower the gun.
no subject
Well. Needless to say that he is not in the slightest bit worried at the gun pointed at his face.
So completely unworried, is he, in fact, that he reaches up to yank that stupid bloody pistol down with the left arm, the right pulling back, back...
And that's it. That's literally the punchline, as he punches Jack Sparrow right in his stupid punchable face. And he doesn't pull that punch at all, no matter how bony his own knuckles are because Jack completely deserves it. And that done, he plucks away the jar of Nutella before Jack can do something stupid like drop it, before brushing past.
And that is why you don't headbutt Hector Barbossa.
no subject
But he had hoped, though, that the presence of the gun, along with the knowledge that he had shot Hector dead not once, but twice, would be enough to make Hector back away.
A bet he spectacularly lost, as suddenly his gun is lowered and he's been punched in the face.
There's a counter not too far behind him, and his back hits against it as he takes a step back with the force of the punch, hands flying up to his face. Jack might not have gotten any injuries during the battle with Davy Jones, but his nose had been broken by Sao Feng. His nose, which had just healed, broken again by Hector's stupid bony fist.
He doesn't take his hands away from his face as he regains his composure, blinking at Hector (When had he lost the jar of Nutella?). "S'ppose we call it even, then?"
no subject
Doesn't matter, it was worth it.
"Aye, I suppose that makes us square. For now."
Not that he even bothers to look up at Jack. He's got the Nutella, which means he has won this round. And knows that Jack knows that as well. So he's content to simply sit where he is, taking up as much space on the kitchen floor as the length of his legs will allow.
And when he thinks of it, this is probably the first time he's really come down to the kitchen since he blew up that microwhatsit. Funny, that.