[OPEN] alas, my children

[andajarofdirt]

Characters: Jack, Jack & you.
Setting: Floor 42
Format: Starting action, but I'll match you either way.
Summary: In which Jack - the monkey - is being a pest, and Jack - the pirate - wants his goddamn hat back. 
Warnings: Jack Sparrow being Jack Sparrow. Also, creepy undead monkey and potential shooting of it.

JACK!

[Captain Jack Sparrow does not usually scream. Or screech. Or lose his cool, composed air of sophisticated pirate lord. In other words, he's usually too busy pretending to be drunk to do much, really. But sometimes a man must take a stand. Sometimes, there's a monkey involved. Sometimes, a hat is in danger.]

Bugger all, you little pest. I'm gonna shoot yer brains out, see if I don't!

[Sometimes, when an undead monkey steals your hat and runs away into a floor made of shifting, moving bars, you think "oh god, why" or "I bet you all this is God's way of getting back at me about the priest thing" and "I really did think it was a brothel, mate, it's a common mistake to make!" When you're Jack Sparrow, though, the reaction is more along the lines of profuse pirate swearing before chasing after it. Into the bars. Which is where your character will find him, balancing around half drunkenly, moving along and trying to reach the monkey with the hat, pistol at hand. He can't shoot the monkey because then his hat will fall off, but he can certainly chase it.

You know, for someone who's supposedly drunk off his ass - how!? - Jack has an uncanny sense of balance, able to run and jump and otherwise chase around after the undead, chittering monkey with relative ease.]

I will make bullets outta your bones, Jack, to make up for the ones you make me waste!

Comments

[scorchedchivalry]

[sigh]

What should a pirate be?

[andajarofdirt]

Didn't I just say? Everything a pirate wants to be.

[scorchedchivalry]

You make little sense and insist on calling me 'love'.

[andajarofdirt]

I make every bit of sense I need to make, and sometimes I little extra for people I specially like.

[scorchedchivalry]

I suppose it is good to know how high I rate on your scale.

[Not that she cares...]

[andajarofdirt]

Love, love, who wouldn't like a woman as sharp as the sword she's named after?

[scorchedchivalry]

Someone that does not want to get cut.

[andajarofdirt]

That strikes me more as common sense than like, no?

[scorchedchivalry]

Common sense is rarely common.

[andajarofdirt]

That's because things are rarely ever what they should, love.

[a pause]

You learn that well in the sea.

[scorchedchivalry]

You also learn that well upon the throne.

[andajarofdirt]

And she gets it at last!

[Jack spread his arms jovially, nearly stumbling off the bar in his cheer. Then paused, lowering his arms and squinting at her.]

Do you?

[scorchedchivalry]

You have your sea; I have mine.

[andajarofdirt]

You have your throne; I have mine.

[Jack gave her a gallant smile.]

Now tell me again, Knight, if I'm being overly familiar, when it's just a little chat between equals.

[scorchedchivalry]

[They were not equals. She was a king. But she didn't like to give that information away.]

Calling me 'love' is inappropriate. I do not like it.

[andajarofdirt]

[He likes getting under people's skins, sorry.]

And what if in my world not calling you love is more inappropriate, hmmm?

[scorchedchivalry]

Then I would forgive you for using it, yet still not want to be called such.

[andajarofdirt]

Oh, who knows! You might get used to it.

[Another grin.]

Might even end up taking a liking to it.

[scorchedchivalry]

I doubt that. It is entirely too familiar of a term for my preferences.

[andajarofdirt]

Oh, who knows, people get used to the strangest things...

[scorchedchivalry]

Do you always refuse the requests of others?

[andajarofdirt]

Not always, no. But not never, either!

[scorchedchivalry]

Then I request that you cease calling me 'love'.

[andajarofdirt]

And?

[scorchedchivalry]

Will you see to that? I prefer you call me Saber.