Fight and Flight (Arthur and Francis)

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis greatly savored the stifled expression of pleasure on Arthur's face as he ate as much as Francis did his first bite of a meal this evening. He smiled in satisfaction, still maintaining his table manners as he ate. Etiquette was not restrained indoors, after all.

As promised, Francis pulled on Arthur's coat, draping it across his shoulders before he had tucked in. It was indeed warm, and had a faint pleasant scent.

"But of course," replied Francis. "I suppose you already know that he was supplying the Draconians with stolen funds. That, and he once made unwelcome advances toward my sister."

His smile became a little more secretive. "I would have loved to see him turn blue and stiff, but I made sure that was not going to happen until after he had his nightcap. Only a dose of strong brandy can trigger the poison, and I made sure to tempt him with the bottle I gifted him."

[Cpt. Arthur Kirkland]

"Hmm, I can see there's a slight risk in that. There might be the off chance he doesn't drink the brandy, but I suppose we'll see about that in the town talk tomorrow."

He continues to eat, pretty much ignoring most senses of etiquette. He can apply them, when he needs to, but he was much more comfortable eating as he wished.

"Ah, you had a sister?" He questions, noting the past tense. He was pretty sure if she was still around he'd have either known by now or heard some sort of rumours.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis placed a hand over his heart. "Why do you doubt me so? I would have studied him before I made a move, you know. He's a heavy drinker, and his routine of drinking before he retires for the night has remained unbroken for fifty-three years. Of course he is going to die tonight."

Francis paused for the briefest of seconds at the mention of his sister. Contrary to what was usually assumed, Francis loved to talk about her, but never found the right person to tell about her. He ducked his head and resumed eating, trying to be nonchalant.

"You're right. I did," he said. His voice had dipped low as well. "I shouldn't be surprised you know. Her execution was highly publicized. And you know everything, don't you?"

He swallowed hard and avoided Arthur's eyes.

[Cpt. Arthur Kirkland]

"In fact, no, I didn't know. Now there's a surprise, eh? An information broker admitting he doesn't have information on something." He sighs. "The only reason I could guess is because I haven't heard anything at all about you having one. And the fact it was only you in the house when I was there apart from maids and servants, suggests you either don't have a family anymore or that you're very distant with them."

He munches on Francis, apparently oblivious to the sensitivity of Francis' voice for the moment.

"Sooo assuming it was 'highly publicised', I could guess that she was killed as opposed to dying of natural causes. Unless she was very important for something of course. This must've happened a while ago, otherwise I'd have at least heard something off the backhand."

[Francis Bonnefoy]

It was so very strange to hear his sister's execution so clinically, cleanly dissected and cleanly analyzed. Francis would never forget how it really was - a storm of gut-wrenching fear, grief, anger, and shame that seemed simultaneously brief and never-ending.

He could only manage a weak smile and a slight nod. "You're right, of course. Very true. Brilliant. Bravo."

Francis pushed away any lingering thought on the subject and focused all his attention of polishing off the fish. But even it lost what little taste it had now. When nothing but the bones remained, Francis stood up and tossed it into the fire before leaving in the direction Arthur had stormed off into.

He stayed on what he could make out was the path and found the little brook. Careful not to get the coat wet, he cleansed his hands and splashed his face. He returned, a little more subdued, and settled before the fire.

[Cpt. Arthur Kirkland]

By the time Francis had returned, Arthur had finished his meal, apparently having devoured it a lot quicker after Francis had gone. He was picking the bits out between his teeth with a bone, before throwing it idly into the fire.

"Must be interesting to have had a close family," he remarks, almost as idly, "to feel for them. As a pirate you can't really afford to do that." He laughs. "The only family I've had is a boy who was like a son to me and left without a trace one day, and the only superior I've ever had -- my old captain -- used me as a sex toy. And I ended up killing him."

He looks up at Francis, raising an eyebrow.

"So did your parents get killed, too?"

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis took a quick glance at the pirate over his shoulder. He was startled to hear Arthur sound so blase over his rather tragic history, and even in his inquiry about Francis' parents.

"Isn't it obvious?" replied Francis instead, turning back to face the fire. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or upset by Arthur's tone.

Francis just burrowed deeper into the cloak until only his face was visible. Taking deep, even breaths, he could definitely detect Arthur's scent on it. It was the sea air, gentle rain, and sweet musk in one inhale. It lulled Francis into a sense of peace.

Remembering himself, he held one arm of the cloak and beckoned for Arthur to join him.

"I don't want you to be cold either."

[Cpt. Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur just looked at Francis.

"I'm not cold." He remarks, typically tensed from bracing himself from the cold. He hesitates for a moment, before standing up and joining him, appeasing him. He ends up sitting shoulder to shoulder with the Blonde, the cloak not big enough. He sighs.

"So who were they killed by? They can't have been killed by other noblemen, otherwise you'd have sworn on even becoming one. Either that or you have a tremendous sense or irony or hypocrisy about yourself, as though you haven't with being one and wanting to kill them off."

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis made sure to wrap the cloak properly around the pirate, making sure that they shared it fairly. It wouldn't do for his companion to fall ill from cold. But the fact that they were practically pushed against each other guaranteed them warmth. Francis could feel the heat from the other's body, and he pressed closer to Arthur.

He stopped fussing and settled into the cloak, silent for a moment. "I suppose I am a hypocrite, aren't I?" he said with a bitter laugh. "At least you're honest about who you are and who you're against. I pretend to be one of them and stab them in the back. Sometimes literally."

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and slumped forward. "My father was 'eliminated' by the Draconians. He was too 'problematic' to keep. And my mother...she was betrayed to the Ruthians." His smile was more like a grimace. "So you see, I cannot belong to either faction."

[Cpt. Arthur Kirkland]

"Ah. I see. And who were your sister killed by, the military?" He snorts, almost as a half joke. "You seem to have a reason to hate everyone." He remarks. Arthur looks down at Francis, watching him for a moment. For a man who usually held such grace and elegance, he seemed to carry years of burdens with him.

Almost unexpectedly, Arthur slides his arm around Francis, in a reassuring fashion. He pats his back.

"Well, at least you know where to belong to! I've been a pirate nearly half my life and I still don't belong anywhere!" He laughs. If it wasn't so dry it'd seem genuine.