#p:addi

[jasonpal-blog1]

Not a date || Addi & Jason

Jason was excited to spend some time with Addison, he never felt that way before since... he shook his head, trying to send those thoughts away. He walked out of his room after her, Jason wanted to hold her hand but he didn’t know if it was too much, why was he overthinking everything? “We’ll go for an ice cream first, right?” he asked glancing at her, “this is definitely not a date, so don’t get your hopes up, we’re just... spending time together,” he added. 

@lifeasaddi

[captainxxjames]

The port tavern was exactly the sort one might expect the worst kind of folk to hang around. Dirt roads filled with potholes and stagnant rainwater outside and above the front of the tavern hung a sign that might have been more crude, before the weather had worn away the details of the picture. On the other side of the street lay a market mostly empty in the moonlight, and past that, the docks filled with ships of all shapes and sizes. It could have been a peaceful picture, were it not for the excessive number of drunk sailors who made a habit of occupying the nighttime hours of the street. 

Dim lanterns hung at uneven intervals along the street, and inside the tavern earlier mentioned, music, light and sailors too deep in the drink spilled out the door. Take a step inside and the music turned from muted revelry to an off-key piano with several people shouting (not so much singing) a sea shanty. Walk further along the bar to men shouting for drinks, women sitting on laps and other women with eyes like daggers who only dared a man to suggest it. Only in the far back corner is there a table sat with a wide emptiness around it, as though there’s an invisible line drawn five feet from out from it which nobody’s dares to cross. At the table is a hook with a man (others might say a man with a hook, but they would be wrong). 

Most in the tavern know him by Hook. Perhaps Captain, if they belong to his ship. Still, it is James who sits at the table, sharp blue eyes keeping watch over the rowdy crowd of the tavern, mug in his remaining hand. There is a flask in his pocket as well, but he hasn’t been driven to drink from that yet. He watches, instead, the sailors and merchants and pirates come and go. The evening, for the most part, is average. Strange creatures inhabit the South, and all manner of them slither in and out in the time it takes him to drain his current mug plus two more. The purple thing that flits in isn’t cause for much concern, except that James has felt an unnecessary compulsion to keep an eye on any faerie in his radius. Especially one so clearly intent on making poor decisions as this one is, clearly unaware of the eyes turned her way as she proceeds to inspect every inch of the crowded tavern. There’s a few men taking interest of the fae girl, her as unaware as ever, and James is beginning to form up a reason (it must be a diabolical one) in his head to remove her from the bar when she finds him instead and she steps across the invisible five foot line that separates him from the rest of the bar. 

Uneasy glances cast their way as James arches a dark eyebrow. “I’d suggest ye run back to whatever hollow it is you escaped from,” he warned, even as she took no heed of the very clear, though unspoken, ‘do not pass’ sign. 

@addielerouxx