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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.
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.