Jack was silent, his arms crossed tightly and his mouth pulled into a rigid line. Gone was any flirtatious good humor. He took another drink from his flask, nostrils flared with annoyance and anger. He didn't even know why he was angry. But he was.
Francis crossed his legs at the ankles. He furrowed his brow, glancing back up at Jack and his angered expression. When he met him, he remembered Jack’s father being especially annoyed with him, and when he took him into that room. He assumed he’s beaten Jack, or something of the sort. Jack’s expression now reminded him of that. Maybe he got his father’s anger? Or maybe it all just stemmed from the alcohol.
Jack closed his eyes for a moment. He was too much like his father sometimes, he knew, but…but he would never have hurt someone the way his father did all too often. He wouldn't. He couldn't.
Francis looked over at Elizabeth, then. Did she experience her father’s anger as well, he wondered. Or was it just that Jack was so disagreeable? Either option was just as sad, and his heart hurt for the family, especially Jack. “How are you doing?” He murmured to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth glanced at him. "I'm fine." She replied softly, tucking back a curl of hair from her face. "Are you?" She knew that her father could be hard on Jack, but she had no idea that their father actually beat her brother. Her father had never turned that physical, roaring anger onto her.
Jack was silent.
“Doing alright,” he replied with an admiring smile. Even if they shared different opinions regarding the men who visited the theater, he couldn’t blame her for it. It was only what she had been taught, right?
Francis’ father was a man many might misunderstand as timid. He was quiet, and didn’t have much of a vocal presence in the community.
Elizabeth nodded. "Good." she replied, returning his smile with a gentle one of her own. She glanced away after a moment, studying her brother, then looking at Francis again.
Francis kept his eyes on her. He was quiet, his gaze and expression warm, until he thought of something to say. “Are you still interested in borrowing those meteorology books of mine? I unpacked them this morning.”
Elizabeth gave him a quick smile. "Sure." she replied softly. "That would be lovely." she wondered how he was so kind like this, even after Jack had been such an absolute ass.
Francis still held some resentment against Jack, but he buried it with a pleasant expression. He’d learned to be good-natured from his parents, most prominently from his heart-of-gold mother. “Perfect,” he hummed, his gaze trailing to the scenery outside of the window.
His brother had told him once that he was the perfect balance of their mother and father. Quiet, private, and a stately manner. But he had also said he was worried when all of the things he held back would come crashing forward like water from a broken dam.
Elizabeth nodded, and looked out the window, watching as the town rolled by. She sighed softly, and smoothed out her skirts again.
Jack drained the rest of his flask.
Francis glanced over at the flask and frowned. He was still drinking? Of course he was. He pressed his lips together and averted his eyes. Jack was angry because of the alcohol, he concluded, that had to be at least part of it.
Jack cocked his head to one side, then the other, his neck letting out faint cracks as he did so. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out his breath in a rush of air. He was calming down, thankfully, not that he would have hurt anyone anyways.
Francis swallowed a lump in his throat, still eyeing the flask that Jack held. He assumed, hoped that it was empty now, at least. He rolled back his shoulders to stretch as best he could in these cramped quarters. “How much more time do we have left to the opera house?” He asked Jules.
Jules blinked. "Oh. I believe…perhaps a few more minutes? I am unsure." he replied, looking at Francis and studying him for a moment.
Jack studied the flask. It was indeed empty, much to his chagrin. He very much wished there had been enough for him to be well and truly drunk.
“That’s good,” Francis sighed. He wished it were less than a few minutes, but at least it wasn’t so long as an hour. He tapped his thumb against his knee to pass the time as his gaze returned to the town outside. Jack didn’t seem to be drunk, so that was nice as well. So while at the opera house, he wouldn’t have a drunk Jack to look after.
"You said they serve alcohol, right?" Jack asked Jules, lips pressed into a thin line.
Jules' eyes flickered. "Well yes, but…I am not sure that is a good idea, Monsieur Montague." he said slowly, studying the english boy.
Francis sighed again, louder this time. He closed his eyelids to roll his eyes without anyone seeing. If he got his hands on the alcohol served at the opera, maybe be would have to look after a drunk Jack, after all. He opened his eyes, pressing his knuckles against his lips to underhandedly mumble, “None of my business, but I agree with Jules.”
Jack heard the mumble, and shot a glare at Francis. He looked at Jules. "And why not? I'm not a child, you know, I can handle my drink."
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, and said, "You promised father that you wouldn't be drinking like this."
Jules glanced between the two siblings.
“Exactly,” Francis mumbled again, his expression becoming more taut at the glare Jack shot him. He scratched his upper lip in a feeble attempt to make it seem he just needed to scratch his lip instead of hiding his words. He let his hand drop, but he concealed it in his pocket. He held the pocketbook in his concealed hand, instinctively fidgeting with the leather strap.
Jules bit his lip slightly. "Please, monsieur Montague. You do not need anything more to drink." he said quietly.
Jack frowned, crossing his arms a little. "Damn father." he mumbled angrily.
Francis relaxed again. “Thank you,” he offered quietly with yet another sigh. The thought of other intoxicated people at the opera already troubled him. But as long as they weren’t blackout drunk—which he doubted people would be at an opera—he would be fine.
Jack rolled his eyes, glaring out the window like an angry child. He shook his head a little bit. He wanted a drink. He wanted to forget everything and lose himself in the drink, lose his memories and his mind.
Francis continued to think, and eventually his thoughts reminded him of the time yesterday Jack disappeared with that sailor on the ferry. What if that happened again at the opera? Surely there would be attractive people there. He wasn’t sure how far his limit went of protecting Jack safety wise, and trying to keep him out of general trouble like he promised his father. Or maybe you’re just overthinking this, Francie. He heard that phrase often from his brother, who was the only one who’d call Francis Francie.
Jack took a deep breath, wondering if maybe he could find someone to flirt away the time with at the opera. He bet he could, it would just depend on how closely he was being watched. His eyes flicked to Francis, then away again. He shook his head a little bit.