Jack backed up a little, eyes studying Francis and weighing whether or not Francis was at all likely to punch him. He pouted a little. "Making it my business." he replied, crossing his arms and looking up at the taller boy. He studied Francis' expression and knew, even drunk, that continuing down this road would lead only to more hurt. He looked away, leaning back in the seat again. "Sorry." he mumbled, raking a hand through his blonde waves of hair.
Elizabeth was studiously ignoring them, nose buried in her book.
Francis didn’t answer, worried that if he did his words would shake. His face was bright red now after the initial shock. He let out a shuddering breath and opened his book again, trying to ignore his sweaty palms. They made his thumbs stick annoyingly to the paper, but he had other thoughts to mull over. He chewed the inside of his lower lip. He glanced sideways at Jack, then quickly looked back to his notebook. He liked to think of himself as a nonviolent man. The thought hadn’t occurred to him to punch him, only maybe if Jack had continued.
Jack took another deep breath, shaking his head a little. He started to hum. Loudly, incessantly, and annoyingly, his head bobbing from side to side as he did so. His blue eyes were closed, and his back was arched just a little, making his body into nearly a perfect bow shape.
After about ten minutes, Elizabeth could take it no more. "God, could you shut up?" she demanded, putting her book down. "Nobody wants to hear your incessant noise or have to deal with unwanted touches. We haven't even been gone for an hour! Have you so little self control or respect for anyone else around you?"
Jack opened his eyes, the humming stopping all at once. A flash of hurt crossed his face, just for a moment, then it was gone again. "It doesn't matter." he replied, turning and leaning his side against the seats and looking out the window.
Francis frowned, looking between Jack and his sister. It was sad, he thought, how neither Elizabeth nor his father seemed to have nothing but criticisms for him—however much they were warranted. But along with alcohol, he couldn’t stand tense silence. “I could live without the unwanted touching” he lowered his eyes on his book again, “but I didn’t mind the humming.” He offered to Jack. A fib, but plain noise was harmless.
Jack snorted softly. He shook his head a little bit, closing his eyes. "Doesn't matter." he said again. "Somebody wake me up when we get to the ferry to France." he propped his legs up on the chair opposite the coach from him, and fell asleep within minutes. Jack Montague was not someone with a lot of friends. He never had been. So he had always found attention in any way he could get it, which meant he drank and he gambled and he slept around, because it meant people gave him the attention he craved so badly.
Francis turned to a new page in his little book. He stared at the blank page until he closed his eyes. He crossed his legs at the ankles, and tilted his head forward to rest. He didn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep, so he thought about how he was dreading this tour. How was he going to be able to deal with this boy for so long? He sighed out through his nose, and lifted a hand to rub his face.
Jack shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his back. His hands were clasped over his stomach. Asleep, he looked more relaxed and somehow vulnerable than he ever had awake. He let out a soft sound in his sleep, shifting again. When awake, he never would have allowed himself to look so weak and vulnerable, but he was asleep, so he didn't have any control.
Francis opened his eyes and glanced over at Jack, interested at the soft sound he made. He silently decided that he liked Jack better when he was asleep. A slight smile touched the corner of his lips as he looked at the sleeping form. He admired his golden hair, and the mussed texture it had. Francis has always been disappointed with his own hair, how it fell flat, and was a common brown.
With Jack’s audacious personality set aside, Francis inwardly acknowledged that the boy sleeping beside him was attractive. He could never admit that, though; he would dislike him again when he woke up.
(gonna do a tiny little timeskip~)
When they reached the ferry, Elizabeth reached over and shook her brother by the shoulder. She was a rather petite girl, fifteen years old with the same golden hair as her brother, which fell past her shoulders in bouncy curls. "Jack. Get up." she said.
Jack awoke, blinking and looking at her, then Francis. "Oh, g' morning." he greeted, sitting up and stretching. He didn't seem to care that he was invading Francis' space as he did so. He raked a hand through his hair. "I do hope nobody did anything…naughty while I was asleep." he said mischievously, looking at Francis and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stabbed him with the tip of her parasol. "The only one here who wants to do anything naughty is you." she replied, and got up, getting out of the coach.
Francis leaned away from Jack again as he stretched, eventually getting up to follow Elizabeth out of the coach. He gave Francis an unimpressed glare at the crude comment, “I have to agree with your sister, Mr. Montague.” While straightening the ends of his coat, he concealed the leather book in his pocket. Now that they were out of the confines of the coach, he lifted his face to the sky to stretch his neck, which had become uncomfortably stiff during the ride.
Jack tipped his head to one side, then the other, his neck letting out cracking sounds. He sighed, and climbed out of the carriage, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so. He sighed softly. The group was led over to the ferry, and their bags were put into the cargo hold. Most of their bags had been sent off a week ago, to meet them in Paris. These bags contained just some changes of clothes, and other necessities to have along with them. Jack walked to the railing of the ferry, peering out at the sea.
Francis leveled his chin parallel with the ground after rolling his neck to relieve the tension. He let out an exasperated breath from his chest, out through his nose, and followed them up to the ferry. He took a step closer to Elizabeth, leaning to speak with her. “Is he always rambunctious, or is he just drunk today?” So far he didn’t he didn’t have much of an opinion on Elizabeth, but she seemed like a decent person to talk to.
Elizabeth glanced up. "Hm? Oh." she thought for a moment, eyes following her brother's form for a moment as Jack wandered along the deck of the wooden ship. "I am not sure. A little bit of both, I suppose. He's also most likely hung over this morning, which would be part of his behavior." she pressed her lips into a thin line, adjusting her skirts as she sat down on a chair placed on the deck.
Jack whistled, then stopped as the piercing sound irritated his head. He was quite definitely still hung over, and his head was pounding like the blazes. Which was not helped by the sun glittering off the sea and into his eyes. He squinted to see if that would help.
“I see,” Francis sank down into the seat beside her, studying her face to see if she cared or not. “That would explain his behavior,” he agreed quietly as his gaze traveled from her to her brother. “He’s quite an anomaly,” he placed his hands in his lap, absentmindedly fidgeting with his fingernail. It gave him hope. If Jack was simply hungover, maybe the rest of the trip would be bearable. As long as he didn’t drink for the rest of the trip, which he guessed was unlikely.
Elizabeth huffed out a short laugh. "Yes." she replied simply. "Although he's likely to be a bit better towards you once we're in Paris and there are other people for him to flirt with." she shrugged a little bit, folding her hands in her lap. "I apologize for his behavior, though. That was inappropriate of him to do." she meant when Jack had put his arm around Francis' waist, touching him in a way that a man should not dare to do to another man.
“Yes, Thank you, but think nothing of it. You shouldn’t have to apologize for his behavior,” he lightly smiled back at Elizabeth. “I’m looking forward to arriving in Paris. It’s a beautiful city.” Even if they weren’t going to such a city, he would still be looking forward to Jack paying less attention to him. “Have you ever been?” He remembered visiting Paris with his mother and father when he was young. The things he most remembered about it were the streets, which were filled with strange people dressed in even stranger clothing.
"Yes, when I was younger. My father is from there, originally, and we were visiting his family. Jack was, oh, twelve, I think, and I was nine. I don't remember very much, but I do remember that it was absolutely beautiful." Elizabeth smiled a little bit, looking down at her hands for a moment. She glanced over at Francis. "Have you?"
“Yes, a few times when I was younger,” he nodded. “The last time we visited, I was thirteen. I loved it. Mostly the architecture, and the painters who sat on the street. The rest of it, I remember was very odd, to say the least,” he chuckled through a close lipped smile. “The parties I remember were so sensational they could have been dreams.”
She nodded, letting out a soft laugh. "Paris is…extravagant and splendid. That's the best way I know for how to describe it." she replied with a little smile. "Everything is so…I don't know. Over the top." her eyes narrowed a little. "And if my brother ruins it, I'm going to lock him in his room for the rest of the trip."
Francis nodded, considering the phrase over the top. She was right; they were probably the most accurate words to describe Paris. “I could be mistaken, but from my first impression of your brother, it seems like he would fit very well into the extravagance and strangeness of Paris. But please, if he does ruin it, I do implore you to lock him in his room.”
"You don't know him like I do." Elizabeth replied, shaking her head. "Paris is a different kind of extravagance and strangeness than Jack." she sighed. "He just drinks and flirts with everyone under the sun. Paris has…taste and style. Which my brother does not always seem to have." her lips pressed into a thin line, and she smoothed out her skirts again.
“You’re right, I don’t know him,” he said, tilting his head. His gaze fluttered to Jack. He furrowed his brow at him as he thought about what his sister said. Paris culture was gaudy, but it had a level of sophistication that made it charming to many people. Elizabeth was right again. Jack didn’t seem to have the same sophistication as Paris.
"Jack is…" She shook her head. "I don't even know. My brother isn't known for his good choices." She pressed her lips into a thin line again, letting out a breath. She shook her head slightly. "He has a good heart, I think, he just doesn't quite know…when to stop. Or where the boundary line is." She shrugged with one shoulder, brushing back a stray curl from her face.
Francis looked back to her when she continued to speak. He bobbed his head, following along. “Do you think he’ll mature over the trip?” He wondered. He knew he, himself, would have to change at least a little bit throughout their trip. Without his family and friends, he would have to branch out and find more people to mingle with. He dreaded that part.
He clasped his hands in his lap as if he were praying, but he was just unsure what to do with his hands.
She let out a rather unladylike snort. "My brother? Never." She replied, covering her mouth with a hand. "Er…do excuse my manners." She added, dropping her hand after a moment. She glanced over at Francis for a moment.
Jack was still wandering the deck. The ship lurched beneath his feet as it began to move. He stumbled and grabbed onto the railing to keep from falling.
A smile spread across Francis’ face. When he saw her looking at him, his expression warmed, “Of course, and fair enough. You definitely know him better than me.” After a moment, he looked back to Jack, and stifled an impolite chuckle when he almost fell. “He better take a seat before he hurts himself,” he humored.
Elizabeth let out a laugh. "He won't. Watch him." She replied, leaning back in her seat as she watched Jack. "Just hope he doesn't decide to flirt with anyone. If he does, you might be his prime target." Disgust peeked through in her voice. She had been raised to think that two men in any sort of relationship other than friendship was disgusting, and would likely think that until the day she died.
Jack held onto the railing, a smile flickering over his face for a moment. Then, swaying with the boat's movements, he began to walk around on the deck, stumbling a bit.
Francis turned his head to watch Jack. He was pretty entertaining to watch, especially as he stumbled around. “Oh, probably,” he replied in a lighter, more humorous tone. Growing up, he never heard about the possibility of two men being anything other than friends. But as he got older, he preferred to keep any attraction he felt to himself, whether his interest be male or female. It just seemed simpler that way.
Elizabeth, sighed softly, picking a loose thread from her skirts and dropping it to the deck. She pulled her book from her bag and began to read again, quiet. Her golden curls fell into her face slightly, and she brushed them back.
Jack spoke to one of the sailors. The sailor was a tall male with tanned skin and a riot of tangled brown hair, who looked at Jack with a smile that just bordered on flirtatious. Jack had to look up to even be able to meet the sailor's face, and stumbled again, placing a hand on the sailor's arm to keep himself steady.
Francis sat upright to watch with a level of interest. He assumed this wouldn’t end very well, especially in a public setting. But from the look on the sailor’s face, it didn’t look to him like Jack would be getting punched. It was surprising, though, how many men were so open with their attractions. A part of him wished that he could be as outgoing as Jack, he even envied the ambitious men like him who could unapologetically seek after what they wanted without repercussions.
