"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.
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.