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.
Jack settled into the seat. His flask was empty, and he hoped the ride wasn't long. His head was hurting even worse than it had this morning. Drinking was not the cure for a hangover, not that he really cared. He peeked at Francis' notebook, blinking when he saw the portrait. Did he draw that? It's lovely. He wanted to ask, but…he didn't know Francis very well at all, and didn't want the other male to feel too uncomfortable around him. He knew he had already probably destroyed that this morning, with all that damned touching and flirting.
Francis paid no attention to Jack, lightly brushing his thumb against the edge of the charcoal. The young man looked like Francis, but with a fuller, more developed jaw and voluminous hair. Francis hadn’t drawn it. It was his brother who had vainly sketched a self portrait of himself in Francis’ notebook. Francis was disgruntled about it for a long time—he wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. But now that his brother was gone, Francis couldn’t ask for a better reminder of him.
Jack wondered who the person was. Not Francis, but similar. A sibling? He desperately wanted to ask, but that would be rude, wouldn't it. And Francis already disliked him enough. And he had agreed to keep his nose out of Francis' business, too. So he couldn't ask. He turned away, looking out the window and hoping the drive wouldn't be too long. He didn't want to be cooped up in here for a long time.
Francis finally closed the book after a few minutes, keeping it in his lap. He fidgeted with the leather strap keeping it closed in his hands. He glanced over to Elizabeth, “Pardon my ignorance, but how long will you be with us until you’re dropped off at the school?” He was a bit worried about after she was dropped off. The silence was uncomfortable already, how much worse would it be when it was just him and Jack?
Elizabeth looked up. "Hm? Oh. Perhaps a month, I believe. My school is south of Paris, so I will no longer be with you by the time you reach the more southern portions of your Tour." She replied with a small smile.
Jack cleared his throat softly, eyes flicking to Francis and his sister for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Oh, good,” he smiled, “I’m glad you can stay with us for a whole month.” A month wasn’t very long, at least while there were things to do in the city. In Paris, there were always things to do in the city, he recalled. Hopefully he could spend most of his time with Elizabeth, if she allowed it. He liked her, and her decency and sophistication that anyone would expect from a noblewoman. He noticed she was quite the foil to her brother.
Elizabeth smiled back. "Yes. I think it shall be very enjoyable." She replied, smoothing out her skirts. She tucked a loose curl back, looking out the window for a moment, then back at Francis.
Jack sighed softly, running a hand through his hair again. He didn't know what to say or do.
Francis’ smile warmed, “Me too.” If this were in a more formal setting, or if he was a more forthright man, he might have offered to kiss her hand— as any polite gentleman might do for a lady he admired. He decided against it, and kept her gaze for another moment before looking back down to his book. He untied the leather strap to open his book again, to a page covered in notes about the weather, clouds, and the like. “Do you like meteorology?”
She frowned a little bit. "I… don't believe I've heard much about it, no." She replied with another small smile. "I have not received the same education as you and my brother." She shrugged a little bit, folding her hands in her lap.
Jack sighed again. Oh, great. Are these two going to flirt the whole time? Please, God, spare me from that. Anything but that.
“That’s alright,” he tilted the book in her direction. “It’s the study of the weather, and forecasting it based on the patterns.” His hazel eyes, which looked green in the sunlight, brightened with happy interest for maybe the first time on the trip. “This isn’t the one I write in every day—it used to be—it’s really old, but I always carry it with me.” He leaned over to check the date, “Oh, this page is from almost a year ago.” He wasn’t exactly trying to flirt with her, at least not consciously; he did consciously hope he could make a friend while she was traveling with them.