JACK
"Son of a fuckin' bitch," comes the eloquent response from the undergrowth. Jack blames the headache for his slow reflexes - because he does recognise the flavour of the thoughts from the Wishtide, but it's a fraction of a second too late. Maeve's whipcrack catches him on the side of the neck, of all places, and although he flinches back, it does send him side-stepping out into the open.
"You wanna watch where you aim that thing," he hisses at her, squinting against the sunbeams dancing on the surface of the water. Touching his fingers to the streak of a burn against his skin, he mutters another, darker curse, letting out a sigh and moving to sink unceremoniously down at the shore. "Ain't seen any snow moss about in there, have you?" He doubts it, but whatever.
"You wanna watch where you aim that thing," he hisses at her, squinting against the sunbeams dancing on the surface of the water. Touching his fingers to the streak of a burn against his skin, he mutters another, darker curse, letting out a sigh and moving to sink unceremoniously down at the shore. "Ain't seen any snow moss about in there, have you?" He doubts it, but whatever.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
