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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 30, 2012 18:50:28 GMT -5
It had been a cold night, but somehow, something had stifled it and kept Francis warm. He began to stir late in the morning, and he found that the slightest movements triggered his sore muscles. Even worse, his neck was stiff.
He opened his eyes reluctantly, unfolding himself gingerly from his huddled position on the chair. His gaze instinctively settled on the bed, and when he did not find the pirate sleeping on it, he sat up.
It was then that he spotted Arthur across the room with a cup of what was (of course) tea. And even though he ached all over, Francis smiled.
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Jan 30, 2012 18:56:58 GMT -5
That smile triggered something in Arthur when he noticed. There was a sudden urge to want to go and clamber in beside the man and hug him, but he resisted. However, he couldn't hold back his own slight smile, a blush appearing alongside it.
"Uhm. Morning. You-- You can have some tea, if you want."
He motions towards the door.
"Also, we've docked into land. You're ... uh. Free to go."
He puts his tea down, moving his feet from on top of the desk.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 30, 2012 19:18:14 GMT -5
Almost immediately, Francis' smile faded. He slumped in his chair, his eyes lowering to stare at the floor. He wasn't quite sure how to react.
"Oh." He couldn't think of the right thing to say. "Thank you."
Only two days ago, he would have dashed out onto the dock without a second glance in order to keep his heart from breaking again. But now...it was goodbye again. Much too soon.
He chanced a glance at Arthur from under his lashes. Did Arthur want him to leave, then? Francis couldn't quite discern his expression.
"I - " Francis cleared his throat and stood, stretching with a groan. His muscles hurt even more. "I suppose everyone's just waiting for me to disembark, aren't they? I'll just..."
He looked at the door, wondering whether to leave now.
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Jan 31, 2012 12:41:08 GMT -5
Arthur rolls his eyes, and stands up. He takes Francis by the arm and sits him down at his desk, slapping the newspaper at Francis and moving the tea set towards him. He rubs the other's shoulders for a moment, so at least he wouldn't hurt his neck.
"Sit down, have some tea, and read the paper. I'll get you something to eat. I'm sure you'll get more use out of it than me, considering I can't actually read the damned thing."
He moves towards the door.
"We'll be docked for a few days, unless there's an emergency. There's no rush."
He gives a look back at Francis, before moving out of the door and onto the deck.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 31, 2012 18:39:57 GMT -5
Arthur's attentions on Francis brought his smile back full force, but the pirate had dashed off too soon. Francis wished Arthur had massaged his shoulders for a little longer. Sighing, he turned his attention on the newspaper before two thoughts occurred to him.
One: had Arthur just admitted he couldn't read? Francis quashed down his dismay and resolved to ask Arthur about it.
Two: his legs were cold because he wasn't wearing trousers. Where were his trousers? Francis peered over at the chair he was sure he had draped his damp, torn trousers over. They weren't there.
He stood and glanced down at his bare legs, frowning. And he had been about to get off the ship too...
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Jan 31, 2012 18:59:49 GMT -5
Arthur returned a small while later. He had a small tray in his hand, and had Francis' clothes, now clean and dry, laid over a shoulder. He moves to place the food down -- a simple sandwich, really, and folds the clothes in the chair he'd fallen asleep in.
"Good job it's windy. Though, I doubt they'd be washed to the standard you're used to.."
He looks back up to Francis, and blinks, noting his expression.
"W-What?"
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 31, 2012 19:43:49 GMT -5
Francis stared at Arthur when he returned, touched that the pirate had taken the time to wash his trousers. He didn't care whether Arthur had washed it with seawater; Francis was too pleased to care.
"I...don't worry about that." Francis strode over to the captain, taking one of Arthur's hands in his own. "Thank you."
Before he knew what he was doing, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair from Arthur's face. He was mesmerized for a moment, then recalled that he had something to ask.
"When you said you couldn't read the newspaper," began Francis cautiously, "what did you mean?"
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Feb 1, 2012 7:58:00 GMT -5
Arthur is struck silent by those motions, his green eyes set on Francis a bit dumbfoundedly. He snaps himself out of it, and stumbles over his words.
"Uhmhn--" he starts, pulling his hand away from Francis'. "Exactly what I said. It wouldn't be much use to me. You think I ever had the privilege of learning to read? I guess I know small words, maybe even very basic sentences." He sighs.
"There's a reason why I don't let people leave me notes when I'm gathering information, which is why I risk an ambush like how you found me. Not to mention, it's harder to trust a piece of paper. When you learn people's behaviours enough, except for those who are very good, it's easy to discern what's truth and what isn't."
He pauses.
".. Yeah."
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Feb 1, 2012 18:10:00 GMT -5
"Oh."
Sometimes, Francis forgot about the wide disparity between the classes - which, funnily enough, he condemned the nobles and the Draconians for - and when he was reminded of it, it came in the most painful of shocks.
He gaped at Arthur for a moment, stunned for a minute into silence. But it was soon replaced by a very heavy ache, a deep sadness for all that was wrong. Francis squeezed Arthur's hand.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of." His voice was gentle. "In fact, I think it makes you even more amazing for coming this far."
Francis pulled Arthur to sit on the bed beside him, studying him with a new kind of wonder.
"But surely you know some poetry?"
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Feb 1, 2012 18:32:45 GMT -5
He puts on a defensive gaze at that, being led to the bed.
"M' not ashamed---" Which seems untrue.
He's sat down on the bed, finding himself gazing into the blue eyes. He blinks.
"P-Poetry...? Why?..."
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