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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 16, 2011 18:33:46 GMT -5
Francis had retreated to a corner in the quarterdeck, trying to map out his next impossible two days. Of all the people in Granor to have him on their ship...it was really just Francis' luck. He supposed that he should make himself as scarce as he possibly could and steal away once the ship landed.
Lost in thought, he had taken to staring out into the sky, only for a loud bang! of wood to jerk him out of his reverie. And when he turned, his heart stuttered to a stop.
Arthur was striding out of his quarters...without a shirt.
He was hardly the first naked person Francis saw, but somehow just a glimpse made his stomach swoop and burst into flutters. He wasn't quite aware that he was ogling quite openly and missed the entire exchange between Arthur and his crew member.
It was only until Arthur addressed him directly that he snapped back to himself. He wasn't sure whether to resent or find Arthur's authoritative tone attractive. He settled for resentment, but being trapped on Arthur's ship, it would be stupid to defy him.
With a small sneer, Francis gave Arthur a mock bow before breezing off toward the main deck. His heart sank when he found a dirty bucket and a mop waiting for him.
Swabbing. He hated swabbing. He hated it as a novice, and he hated it now as a senior member. With a sigh, he resigned himself to the task.
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 16, 2011 19:40:04 GMT -5
The rest of the crew got on with their work, the ship slowly creaking and shifting as it changes directions, the sails falling down and being caught up by the wind, speeding up rather considerably. There are shouts from the rigging above, Arthur's more defined than most others, certainly more authoritative.
As things seemed to slowly settle down into a regular routine, Arthur started to climb back down from the rope ladders, and leapt down the last two feet or so.
Unfortunately, he didn't judge his landing right, and landed one foot right into the bucket -- and almost like some sort of comical film, Arthur goes flying across the recently cleaned deck, overbalancing and landing flat on his back, water spilling everywhere.
There's a groan from the Captain and he rolls onto his side to get up, much to the uproar of laughter from the crew that witnessed it, heckling coming down from the rafts and sides of the deck. Arthur does throw out a laugh and a few rather rude comments back at the others, but there's a sort of stillness to the mask he's putting on, as though he's almost humiliated by the laughing.
He dusts himself off, looks at Francis, before turning and snapping at the crewmember who had handed him the mop.
"Would you bloody make him sort out the gunpowder and securing the cannons? You do realise he's bloody trained in that as a pirate, you know?!" He remarks, stomping off to probably get someone else to start swabbing the deck.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 17, 2011 12:57:38 GMT -5
Francis leaped out of the way as Arthur crashed onto the deck. Normally, Francis would have rushed over to help him up, but Arthur seemed to be fine. Biting his lip, Francis had to stifle a laugh; the scene really did look quite hilarious.
Yet when Francis chanced a glance at Arthur stalking away, he couldn't help but notice a bruise forming on his shoulder. So he did get hurt. Before he could do anything about it, though, he was relocated to another duty.
"Really, he couldn't have specified that earlier?" he muttered to himself as he was steered toward the cannons.
The task gave Francis a much closer proximity and a better view of Arthur working. Francis wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not, but he was certain that he would be distracted the entire time.
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 17, 2011 13:33:33 GMT -5
Arthur continued back onto the raft for a minute, before he started taking duty to make sure that the crew were doing their jobs properly.
Francis would find that a shadow is cast over him at some point, Arthur looming over him. He's got his hands on his hips. He raises an eyebrow.
"... Well, since you're under my command for the time being, you can bloody well tell me why you're being such a fricking uptight prick."
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 17, 2011 14:36:17 GMT -5
Francis thought it would be best to pretend that Arthur was nowhere near him, that he was below deck or in his cabin. With that resolution, Francis began to work.
But apparently, the pirate captain had other ideas. Francis wondered if Arthur held a grudge against him for his fall. Francis addressed him without a single glance, focusing his gaze on his task.
"You may be the captain of this ship - which, I may add, I am not a part of," said Francis evenly, "but that does not give you the authority to demand answers from me about something personal."
But Francis felt slightly offended and couldn't help but add, "And if you want to find the real prick here, a mirror should give you a clue. Or do you even own one?"
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 17, 2011 14:45:57 GMT -5
Arthur's expression sets hard. His fists clench.
"Something personal? To bloody who? You? How the frick is it personal if it involves me? I... I couldn't give a shit about why you do things or who you are, but you are acting incredibly rude towards me. And I don't bloody find at acceptable."
He suddenly snarls, and grabs Francis by the shirt on his back.
"What did you just say?"
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 17, 2011 15:09:59 GMT -5
Francis could tell that Arthur was furious without even turning around. Waves of wrath rolled off Arthur and Francis was much too close to the line of fire. Still, he chose not to react, even when Arthur grabbed him.
Francis simply turned his head, reached back, and plucked Arthur's hand off his shirt. It was difficult, with Arthur's fist curled tightly around it. Francis stepped away, his back still turned to the pirate.
"I simply pointed out that you're being the demanding ass here, not I," replied Francis, still keeping his tone casual despite quivering with pent-up anger and desire inside.
"You had the gall to forcibly take me from land and keep me here, and now you're ordering me to help you tend to your ship while nitpicking my actions. Anyone can conclude that you're in the wrong here."
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 17, 2011 15:20:30 GMT -5
"ME?! THAT WASN'T ME!" He yells, fists curled up. "THAT WAS MY CREW! ALL I DID WAS WALK IN AND SEE YOU... WITH... WITH... G-getting..."
His shoulders shake, his cheeks reddening at the memory and confusion occupied with it, before he suddenly snaps.
"What is wrong with you?! Last time we met you'd be.. be... practically... b-begging to be around.. me... "
He stops.
"..... Not like I bloody care either way. If you're going to be such a bitch, then you bloody know what? Fine. I'll just dump you back to the bloody docks so you can play with your new toy you seem to have found. Not that he'll last long either. They never do, do they?!"
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Dec 17, 2011 16:04:52 GMT -5
Francis was able to keep his composure and calm expression, even throughout Arthur's explosive tirade, but what did him in were Arthur's last words. Francis' face collapsed, and he attempted to glare at Arthur and failed.
So that was how Arthur really thought of him. Francis didn't know why he believed that the pirate would see him as something more than his reputation - perhaps Francis had convinced himself so well of it. In the end, all the pirate saw was the licentious, decadent, lazy noble Francis was supposed to be.
"I don't even know why you're so angry. I'm doing exactly what you want. I'm not even complaining or bothering you!" Francis paused to catch his breath. "I don't see what your problem is - or what 'toy' you're going on about that you seem to have an issue with."
There was still so much Francis wanted to say, but he was suddenly drained. He just sighed heavily.
"That's right," said Francis, swallowing heavily. "you don't care. So leave off it."
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Dec 17, 2011 16:18:48 GMT -5
Arthur's expression drops. His eyes are full of anger, bitterness, hurt -- emotion. Some of the crew are unable to clamp down their curiosity, and seem to start to slow down their actions to hear what's going on.
"...W-What?" Arthur manages to stammer out, incredulous. "W-What the bloody hell do you mean 'I'm doing exactly what you want'? I may have suffered from amnesia in your presence, Francis, but I have never concsiously said that I wanted you to treat me as if I don't exist. As if--- As if... worthless..."
He glares, and his voice goes quieter, his eyes still hard.
"And I may just attribute that to your reputation, but I bloody know reputations and I bloody know you. I've been in your presence where you've completely counteracted your 'reputation'. You seem to give the impression that you know every thought of mine and that you know me better than myself. If you effing did then I'm sure you would've realised by now that I bloody 'went to that ball to get rid of that noble which you topped off yourself' so I could see you. I got more than I bloody bargained for, But no, go ahead, use that to inflate your ego."
His eyes seem to intensify, as though desperately trying to hide all the emotions and pain and push it back. His arms are folded on himself, and he's incredibly tensed up.
"I walked in to see you practically hanging off the shop assistant. And I don't have a problem with it! You just have a problem looking at anybody but yourself!"
He kicks the other in the knee, an almost childish insult, before turning to storm off.
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