thecapitol | And one to another you'll hear them all say

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And one to another you'll hear them all say

Who| Captain Jack Sparrow & You!
What| His arrival
Where| Training Center Suites & Central Commons
When| Shortly after the latest Arena ended
Warnings/Notes| Nothing besides drinking and pirate-y stuff, because yep it's Jack.

(A. Suites)

The heat of the Caribbean sun above, the taste of salt on the cool wind, the bounce of his dinghy on the ocean's waves, rum bottle in hand -- these were the last wispy traces of memory that Jack had before the hard metal of a cot and terse words of the Peacekeepers disrupted it. A map had been shoved in his hands after their brief explanation, then the men had exited the room and left the pirate to his own devices.

It was a dream. Had to be, right? An incredibly vivid one, at that, sure, but not real in the least. Because, really, how else to explain any of this? How else to fully absorb the fact that he'd been kidnapped by some mysterious and powerful force, then dropped into some bizarre, alien place where he'd be forced to fight for his life? So. Nope. Didn't make sense otherwise.

(Yet. Even a small part of him worried that it wasn't one. He'd experienced strange things in his life, in the past, hadn't he?)

"Tributes. A battle to the death. Bugger. Not entirely the best dream I could've come up with on me own." He ran a couple fingers down his goatee, grimacing. "And honestly, it could do much better with more rum in it. At the very least." After a cursory survey of his strange surroundings, Jack roamed with unsteady steps towards the kitchen, intent on exploration. The gadgets and devices on the counters were wholly foreign and incomprehensible, and the pirate furrowed his brow. He prodded a finger against one in particular -- a metallic box, its front side adorned with a square piece of glass -- then noticed the numbers and words printed on it. "Popcorn. Potato. Pie-zah." His eyebrows raised. "... What on this earth is any of that supposed to mean?"

A considering pause. Then Jack experimentally pressed a finger against one of the numbered buttons, flinching back in surprise when a short beep accompanied it. A few more pushes, each followed by its own beep, and the pirate slowly lost interest -- what use, ultimately, was there in some weird magic number-display device that made noise at him.

And thus, if someone hadn't stopped him by now, the pirate would move on to explore more of the kitchen.

(B. Central Commons)

Some time later, once he'd figured out how to operate the elevators, Jack would make his way down into the Central Commons. There was a flurry of excited activity, murmurs of 'the latest Arena finishing' and its victor, all of which Jack took brief note of, then ignored. He lingered at the entrance to take in the intensity of it all instead, to stare at the unusual costumes and hairstyles these people wore, the wholly unnatural way this entire place was built and decorated, then his attention snagged on the word 'bar'. His expression brightened, "Ah!"

Navigating his way through the area -- but poorly, that is, and by bumping against a few too many people -- Jack settled into a seat. Minutes later he'd have a glass of rum in hand, and would take a long, long swig of it. If someone happened to sit next to him, the pirate would eventually throw a glance in their direction, then not-so-subtly lean towards them.

"Oi. Do you happen to know what, exactly, all this bustle and -- " he waved his hand, "-- noise and what have you is about?"

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The pirate taps a finger lightly against the toaster's lever, testing it out, then inclines his head towards Jolie as she speaks. The look she won't be able to quite see on his face is an unusually sober and quiet one; a brief glimpse into the unease that had settled its way deep into his bones the moment his eyes had opened on that unfamiliar cot.

He eventually swivels on his feet to fully face her, finger slipping up to emphasize his point. "Yes, in fact, as it happens, I listened to every rotten word of it." What little there had been to it -- but particularly the part that had been thrown in so maddeningly nonchalantly, a part given as much importance as their open invitation to experience the 'luxury of the city' or spend time in the Training Center.

"A battle to the death, with, as you said, an innumerable amount of spectators to enjoy themselves over it." He waves his hands, gesturing, dismissive. "And, for all I'm concerned, it's something in which I don't plan to partake in. Savvy?"

An allowance is granted so Jack can briefly fool around with the toaster before Jolie very quickly loses her patience and steps toward him with the intent of stopping him.

"You're going to set yourself on fi-Ah! Fuck it." He swivels as she approaches and she steps back quickly in surprise. It jostled her enough to earn a genuine cry of surprise and oh god he keeps talking. Jolie forces herself to take a deep breath, her expression going from surprised to bland in a matter of seconds. He has that impact on her already, it seems, though she is quite beyond noticing that his accent is incredibly attractive.

"Well, Captain, as much as I sympathize with your understandable bullshit logic. There ain't a thing you can do about it, aight? So shut up, sit down and stop fucking touching everything so we can talk about how entrenched in this you are? How's that for savvy?" Her eyes are almost menacing when opened wide, due to the heavy amounts of white eyeliner and thick, fake lashes. She points a manicured nail toward the chair of a nearby table and waits for him to take a seat.

The sudden rebuke -- definitely intensified by that bizarre and scary layer of cosmetics around her eyes (and wow did eyelashes actually grow that thick Jack had no idea) -- visibly takes him aback for a brief moment. The corner of his upper lip twitches, then the pirate's gaze slides over to the table to where she'd pointed. He doesn't move, initially, looking as if he might ignore the instruction and continue poking around the kitchen. But then finally the tip of his fingers tap softly at his hat, and his mouth pulls apart to show some silver.

"If you insist, then, luv."

He swaggers the short distance over to the table, sparing a glance first at her, then the kitchen counter, then back to the table. Then Jack plops himself down into a chair, sprawls out, and kicks up his boots onto the top of it.

He regards Jolie, then asks: "Tell me then. What of it? And what does it matter to you?"

The fact that she's turned the tables on him enough to make him back the fuck up is immensely satisfying. It's not often she gets to use her scary face so soon, but he brings it out in her. Okay no, she's argumentative at the best of times, but at least he seems to be complying.

Her nose crinkles at the flash of teeth. What kind of trend is that? Who does that to their teeth? God, she really hopes it doesn't catch on around here. She is the opposite of interested in teeth bling.

"I do inssss....Stop that." She waves at his feet savagely before actually pulling at his legs. If he doesn't budge, she's going to flop into the chair across from him and fold her arms over her chest.

"I'm not sure you really understand the basic concept of why you're here. I don't care what you do, but the people who brought you here are gonna care and I'm not gonna explain why Captain Jack Sparrow didn't wanna go to an Arena." She sympathizes, she really does, but she can't openly do that and she'd really prefer if he didn't get killed for being a jackass.

"Oi! 'Ey!" When she starts to pull at his legs, the pirate swings his feet off the table and back onto the ground with a soft thud. He gives her a briefly ~~childish~~ bitter look in the meanwhile, and then throws one arm behind his chair and leans back comfortably. "You're all manner of proper, aren't you. It's just a bloody table."

Then, as she goes on, the corner of his mouth purses. "Do I not? Entertainment for the bloodthirsty masses? Killing for the sake of others' enjoyment? Is that thereabouts it? Aye?" He shifts forward, arms resting on the table now, hands lifted. "My point being: I don't plan to kill anyone without due cause, within this 'Arena' or without. Nor do I plan on gettin' meself stabbed or otherwise messily disposed of in the meanwhile."

"This table cost more than everything you're wearing and probably you as a person." His childish expression is met with the look of a man who has mother henned this district for several years. It is every level of unimpressed, it refuses to tolerate his dirty-booted bullshit.

"Wowee, look at you! You got your shit all nice and figured out, don't you?" She props an elbow on the table and rests her face on her hand. Her smile has gone back to being sweet as anything like she wasn't just arguing with him. "Here's the thing, though. Once you get in the Arena you stop being my problem. But if you make my District look like crap, I'm not sending you food, or water or a knife. Which I can do, by the way. Anyone in the Capitol can send you stuff if they're, uh. So inclined. But if you aren't giving them a reason.." She trails off, shrugging her shoulders dramatically.

Exasperation flits onto his face, initially, particularly at Jolie's first words, and his lips part to respond. But Jack doesn't actually speak, and that expression slowly melts into a somewhat more sullen look as she unloads onto him. He leans back into the chair, momentarily quiet, and his thumb slides back and forth idly against the unnaturally smooth material of the table.

He hadn't asked to be taken here, to be forced to participate in this madness -- Jack would rather be back on his beloved ship, rum in one hand and ship wheel in the other, the expanse of blue sea laid out in front of him. And the pirate loathed to have the power over his own life so summarily stripped from his hands and placed in others'.

But if Jolie could give him that edge to survive, then perhaps it was wisest to listen to her.

"Well. What'd you have me do, then?"

Annoyingly enough, Jolie can't help feeling sympathy when he makes that variety of expressions. He's annoying, but that doesn't mean he should be here. He should be free and wandering the wilderness, rolling around in the dirt like the crazy Captain Hobo that he is.

But it wouldn't help him at all to coddle or enable him when it'll cause problems down the line for he and everyone remotely involved with him. Jolie can be a bitch if it means making him understand that.

"Just..." She trails off, gesturing vaguely in front of her as she searches for the words. "Look like you're trying? Do something flashy? If you hide under a rock the whole time, they'll probably just kill you off for good and you'll be gone forever."

Oh. That was a tidbit Jack hadn't been made aware of until now. It was nice to know that his life was tangled up so heavily with his ability to provide entertainment value to these people. Dance the dance the way they wanted him to, or be deemed worthless and disposable.

Great.

Despite that last sentiment, a charming little smile eventually pulls at his mouth. "Luv, if that's all what's warranted, then sure enough. I'll do me best at it." Sure, Jack can pretend for them. He's done it more than enough times in his life, whenever the need had arisen. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been press-ganged into some sort of unpleasant service and other people had tried to force his hand.

"I'm Cap'n Jack Sparrow. 'Flashy' and the like is in me blood."

Jolie has found it a useful card to draw when trying to make a point, if not a morbid one that she feels guilty using. It's true that people who don't do much tend to disappear, why bother resetting people who don't play along?

"Flashy is one word for it. Where I come from we call it severe mental illness." She says that with less of an edge this time around, it's more playful than it is rude. Even if it's still rude. "Do something funny enough and I might send you booze." She adds that with a smirk, but she sincerely would do that, given the chance.

Jack doesn't mind rude too much, he's more than used to it from other people. In fact, the spirited jab merely receives a wider, amused smile from him. "Eye of the beholder, as they say."

At the mention of her sending him booze in the Arena, the pirate places both hands together as if in thanks. "You're a doll, darling. You'd have me eternal gratitude if you did it."

"Just make sure you're appealing to the vast majority of beholders and you'll be fine." Her smile doesn't waver, even if she is decidedly growing less eager to deal with him at present.

Okay, no. She needs to roll her eyes at that, scoffing as she stands and moves to tuck her chair in. "You'll be in my eternal debt if you make me regret it." She steps back. "I'm leaving you to your weird devices now. Don't set anything on fire, I have work to do." She won't linger long for a response before she starts to bustle off.

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And one to another you'll hear them all say

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if you want we can wind this up and then CROWNING

yes yes let's do it!!

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