Jack stood on his tiptoes to speak quietly in the sailor's ear, a little smirk crossing his face.The sailor's eyes widened a little, and then he looked at Jack with renewed interest, bending to place his mouth by Jack's ear and speak. They couldn't be very open with what they were talking about, and they were careful to back away from each other after a minute. Jack swaggered away to the railings again, and the sailor made no secret of exactly what part of Jack he was watching as the nobleman walked away.
Francis raised his brow. He didn’t hear what they’re saying, but their facial expressions implied all he needed to know. He bounced his foot, becoming bored and a bit uncomfortable sitting down when he had just been sitting in the coach. Eventually he stood up, and walked to the railing, several feet away from Jack. He stared down at the water, and his face contorted as nausea started to bite at his gut. He gripped the railing and closed his eyes, hoping the sickly feeling would go away soon.
Jack glanced up as Francis came over, raising his eyebrows. "Alright, Mr Olivier?" he asked, a faint smirk still on his face from his talk with the sailor. He couldn't help but notice again how handsome Francis was. Not fair. Why is he handsome? He sighed loudly, and remembered the sailor's face. Handsome in a very different way. And a body to match. They had an agreement to meet up in the sailor's cabin in about fifteen minutes, when the sailor, whose name was Daniel, was done with his duty.
Francis groggily looked back over at Jack, “Hm? Oh, yes, sir… just a little bit ill.” He leaned away from the railing, keeping his hands grounded there. He never remembered being sea sick before, this had come on so suddenly. Maybe it was something he ate? He slid his hand over his hand to smooth out any strands that might have broken free in the wind. He closed his eyes again, lips pursed into a thin line as if it would help keep the nausea down.
Jack nodded a little. "Ah. Perhaps get back to the center of the ship, then, the swaying isn't as bad there." he replied, trying to be helpful and less…well. He didn't know if Francis was reporting back to his father or not, and if he was…he didn't want to be summoned home early for misbehavior, especially not knowing what his father would do to him. Lord Montague couldn't disinherit Jack, not without a different male heir, but that didn't mean he couldn't hurt Jack.
“Yes, that might help.” He dragged his hand down his face, letting his other hand fall off the railing. Going to the center of the boat was common knowledge, and he felt a bit silly that he didn’t go there sooner. However, going there would also mean losing the great view of the ocean. “I appreciate your input, Montague.” He tapped the railing twice with his palm, reluctantly stepping away from the most interesting view on the ferry. At least since watching Jack’s conversation with the sailor.
(gonna do a tiny timeskip in the middle of my reply…hope you don't mind)
Jack dipped his head. "Of course." he replied, eyes flicking out along the horizon. France was not yet in sight, which he was glad for. Once Francis was gone, he made his way to the sailor's cabin, the sailor joining him after a few more minutes, which Jack did not emerge back out of for the duration of the trip, which took about two more hours. When he finally did come back out, his clothing was now wrinkled and messed up, his hair looking like someone had been running their hands through it. His mouth was almost a little swollen and bruised, almost, and his cravat was messed up as well. The sailor came out from the cabin a few minutes later, giving Jack a lazy wave. Jack winked at the sailor, and headed over to the rail as the ship came into the dock.
(I don’t mind at all!)
Francis, who had convinced himself to take a short nap, opened his eyes. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he realized he wasn’t nauseous. He yawned, covering his mouth to be polite, and stood up. A nostalgic smile spread across his face as he saw France at the dock. Rolling his shoulders back, he made his way over to the railing to get a better view of the city. Ah, it felt like another home, with so many pleasant experiences with his family here littering his memory. Even the dock was just how he remembered it.
Francis looked over at Jack and Elizabeth for a brief moment, arching his brow at Jack’s appearance. He shook his head, dismissing it, and glanced back at the dock. He smoothed a hand over his hair again; when he got off the boat, he wanted to look as put together as possible. He was a nobleman, after all.
Jack adjusted his cravat and clothing to be a little more neat looking, though he couldn't make it look as fresh and crisp as earlier. Elizabeth got up and ready, her book tucked into her bag again. She cast her brother a disapproving look, her lips in a thin line. Jack waved to his sister from the railing, leaning against it a bit. The sailors were hard at work bringing the ship into the docks, and, with a final lurch, it stopped. They swarmed across the ship, tying it down on the dock and setting up the unloading ramp.
Francis walked over to Elizabeth with a content expression on his face. He stuffed his hand in the pocket where his notebook was, just to check if it was still there. With his free hand, he straightened out the wrinkles on the tail of his coat where he had been sitting the last several hours. “Did your father say who we were staying with?” He spoke a little louder over the crowd and sounds of the dock.
Elizabeth shook her head. "Not to me. I'm not the male heir, remember? And it is not my tour, either. I am only coming along to be dropped off at a finishing school." She smoothed her skirts, then used a ribbon to tie back her hair. "Jack might know, so long as he wasn't too drunk when father told him." She glanced over at her brother.
Jack wasn't looking at them, leaning against the railing and watching some birds that wheeled and circled overhead while the crew finished securing the boat, and the bags were unloaded.
“Right, I’ll ask him,” Francis sighed through his nose. He didn’t really want to talk to Jack, which was why he asked Elizabeth first, but since she had no idea, he may have no choice but to. He slid both hands into his pockets and walked up to Jack. “Montague, do you remember where your father said we were staying tonight?” He leaned against the railing, and kept a subtle glance to the crew securing the boat to know when they could get off.
Jack turned to Francis with a quick, easy smile. His cravat slipped down to reveal marks on his neck, likely from the sailor's mouth. "Hm? Oh, yeah. I have the papers somewhere." He patted his pockets, and finally pulled out a small envelope. He opened it. "Yeah." He held it up for Francis to read. "He rented us a flat. Well, us and the chaperone. Once we get to Paris tomorrow. We're staying with a nobleman tonight."
Just like the rouge earlier, Francis tried to ignore the marks on Jack’s neck. Instead of smiling, he kept an emotionless frown on his face. He squinted, pulling a hand out of his pocket to steady the bottom of the paper. He hummed in thought while he read. “Hm, I see. That makes sense.” He let go of the paper and slid his hand back into his pocket. “What’s the time…” he muttered half to himself. His pocket watch had been inconveniently placed in his luggage.
Jack squinted for a moment, and put the paper back in his pocket. He checked his pocket watch. "It's about noon." he replied, tucking the watch away again. He wondered for a moment why Francis was frowning all the time. His lips tightened as he realized. It's my fault. Of course it's my fault. He's normal. Like everyone else. He'll find a woman and settle down with her, whereas I… Jack liked both men and women, but he had discovered that he far preferred the company of other men, which did not bode well for him.
Francis nodded, noon was a good time. Not too early, not too late. “Noon,” he echoed, “Thank you.” He noticed Jack’s tightened lips, and wondered why his demeanor had shifted so suddenly. He furrowed his brow curiously for a moment. He kept an ever-present physical distance from Jack, with his feet crossed and shoulders slightly tensed. Jack made Francis uncomfortable, but an odd uncomfortable he’d never felt with anyone before. He didn’t want to completely avoid him like he did with some other over-arrogant folks, but he did want to keep an appropriate distance.
Lost in thought, he glanced over at the unloading ramp to see if they were letting people off yet.
Jack nodded a little. "You're welcome." He replied after a moment. He leaned on the railing a little, his blue eyes flickering around the boat. He let out a breath. "Mr Olivier, we need to come to an agreement." He said after a long pause. "Mostly so that we each understand the others boundaries and come to an agreement. I know you're supposed to be here to "keep me out of trouble" and all that, but if the only people I am allowed to be near are you and my sister, I will hang myself with my belt." His voice was matter of fact. "Neither of you can stand me, which I understand." He sighed quietly.
Francis returned his gaze to Jack as he spoke, pulling his hands out of his pockets to cross in front of himself. He listened in silence, absorbing his words. He blinked at the comment about Jack hanging himself, “Well, I should hope my presence isn’t so terrible that you would take such drastic measures, but I never wanted to be your nanny. Your…” he sighed, searching for an appropriate word, “business is your business. But please don’t ruin the trip for me, or your sister while she is with us. I will keep an eye on you.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “So what type agreement do you suggest?”
Jack shrugged a little. "Just this. I'll keep my hands off you and my nose outof your business, in all respects, and you do the same. Unless I'm dead drunk and probably need to be escorted home. Then I'll expect a little help." He replied, looking at Francis. "I would say the same of you, but you don't look like the type to get wasted like that." He shrugged again, running a hand through his golden hair.
Francis considered this, then finally nodded, “Yes. We stay out of each other’s business unless it is a serious matter of safety,” he proposed, that way he was still technically doing what Jack’s father asked of him. “And no,” he continued, shaking his head at the last comment, “I wouldn’t be drunk. I don’t like alcohol.” His eyes flickered up to Jack’s hair for a moment, and then back down to his face. He had such nice hair…
Jack pursed his lips for a moment. "That's a shame. Why not? If you don't mind me asking." He held out his hand to Francis. "And the agreement is made." He wiggled his fingers a little, obviously expecting a handshake. He looked up at Francis' face. Why does he have to be off-limits? He wondered selfishly. Why does he have to be attractive and so very far out of my reach?
Francis grasped his hand and gave it a sturdy shake, like his father had taught him. “Deal,” he agreed. After the agreement had been solidified, he let his hand fall. “And I used to drink, but now I don’t like the flavor.” Well, that was one part of it. He paused to take a barely audible breath before continuing, “Or the affect it has on people. It makes smart people lose their brains.” Gloom shadowed over his expression at a certain thought, but he didn’t vocalize it. Instead he looked away, tapping the railing with his fingernails.
Jack dropped his hand. He shrugged a little. "There's a lot of different flavors. As for losing brains…that's the point. It helps you forget and helps you loosen up." He liked it because it really did help with forgetting and enjoying himself. Hangovers were a small price to pay, for a night where he could forget everything but whoever was with him. He didn't seem to notice Francis' gloom, looking out at the ocean.
“Yes,” he looked back, abandoning the gloom for a more neutral expression again. Letting go and forgetting things did sound nice. Being able to not worry about what people thought of him— as long as it didn’t come with the stupid decisions, the vomit, and the awful hangover in the morning. “I suppose that’s one advantage, but I still don’t like it,” he grimaced. His older brother, however, couldn’t get enough of the stuff.
Jack shrugged. "That's your prerogative, I'm sure." He replied with a slight shrug. He gave Francis a tight, wry smile, then looked back out at the shore again. The call for disembark came, and he headed towards the exit of the ship, shaking his head a little bit.
Elizabeth headed to the dock as well.
Francis raised his eyebrow at Jack’s reaction. He guessed Jack found him strange for not liking alcohol, but dismissed it, as it went both ways. Francis found it strange how people could drink alcohol in such copious amounts, even at all. To him it was only a bitter liquid laced with death. He followed them down the unloading lamp and to the dock, hands clasped behind his back.
(I gtg soon, idk if I'll be back)
Jack went beside Elizabeth like any dutiful older sibling, clasping his hands behind his back. His golden hair was messy and sticking up on his head, and he let out a soft, faint sigh. Once Francis arrived, he headed down the docks and to the end, where a coach was waiting already, with their bags inside and waiting to go.
(Alrighty)
Francis stayed behind them both as he walked this time, glancing up at the coach waiting for them. He sighed through his nose and hoped it wouldn’t be too far of a ride. He was already tired of sitting today; he was ready to walk, or at least pace while he read or wrote in his notebook. It all depended on how far away the nobleman lived.
Strands of his brown hair had started to come loose a while ago, especially with the wind and humidity on the boat ride. He pushed a few strands away that were stuck to his forehead.
Jack gave Francis an appreciative looked, then nearly smacked himself in the face for it. No. No more getting attached to other boys. You remember what happened last time. He admonished himself. All the same, Francis was handsome…And very not interested! Stop this! Remember, French boys and right trousers. Just remember that. He sighed softly as he opened the door for Elizabeth, his sister getting in first. He continued to hold it for Francis, climbing in behind the other male.
Francis sat down in the seat, fixing the tail of his coat so it wouldn’t get as wrinkled. It was probably in vain, but it made him feel better anyways. He watched Jack as he climbed inside after him. He wasn’t as unbearable as he was this morning, especially now that they had come to an agreement. But he still felt the uncomfortable “pebble” wedged in the back of his throat. He needed a distraction; he cleared his throat, pulling the notebook out of his pocket. He opened the cover, flipping a few pages from the front. At last, he landed on a page with a man’s portrait sketched out of charcoal.
