tampered | Log: Ongoing

"S'your conscience. Been a long while since we've spoken, I know, but I thought it time you were set on the path t'right."
There's a soft thud as Jack lets his head loll forward against the door.

"Open up, eh? I've come bearing gifts."

Sands smiles a little. Just the person to make his trip better. Also he's getting bored with talking to the cat who is about as much conversation as it's namesake.
He opens the door looking a mess. His hair is a mass of stringy mess and his sunglasses are askew. It's a party of one in there.

"Weren't you the one that told me to make Kate Answorth touch my penis in the second grade?"

Jack looks about as good, and nearly falls forward on top of Sands as well. He stumbles in s the door he was leaning on rudely leaves him and ends up leaning on the agent for support. His face is very close to the other man's by the time he can speak.

"...Certainly sounds like a plan I'd advocate. ... Did it work out for you? If it went terribly sour, then it was surely no plan of mine.."
He laughs and pushes his way off of Sands.

Sands is jarred back a step when Jack lands against him. He turns his face away from the distinct rum breath as he tries to remember how that all went down.
"She touched it. Then she told everyone and my mother was called in. She gave the principal a speech on the innocence of children and some other hippy ideology before my father took control and had me scrub every hard surface in the house. At that age it wasn't really worth it."

Sands steps aside to let Jack in and shuts the door behind him locking it.
"Meet El. He's around here. Somewhere."

The apartment is a mess. There are drugs on almost every surface and it looks as if one or both of them were rolling in it at once point. A third of the kitchen is burned black and the smell is prevalent.
"What did you bring me?"

The pirate staggers in a small circle to take in the whole vista of the mess of an apartment as Sands talks. It's not as if he needs Jack's full attention, a number of the words mean nothing to Jack anyway.
"Still young yet, were you?" Because when the hell is second grade? "Can be a dreadfully confusing thing, the attention of women at an early age..."
His brain provides conversation while failing to even be entirely present for it. It's a skill you pick up when you talk enough. At least Sands doesn't know he isn't being looked at.

Jack checks around his feet for the cat. When he spots the hideous thing across the room he hisses at it in retribution for it frightening him. He attempts to keep an eye on it from there out. That thing is evil.

"I come bearing the finest that sugar cane can offer a man... though it seems I've missed most of the night's excitement already."
He thrusts one of he rum bottles towards Sands, letting it slosh loudly to give away its position.

Sands wouldn't care much about the fact Jack is barely paying attention. He talks for himself most of the time anyway. In fact some of the time he's not even listening to himself.
He's more concerned about walking in a straight line tonight. His attention is mostly on that until Jack hisses. The man actually hisses at his cat. This sends the agent into a laughing fit that's not over for a good long while.

Sands takes the thing making noise automatically and starts drinking in the same fashion. Mixing liquor with the drugs is clearly the best idea ever.
"Want me to shoot you up?"

Why can no one in this filthy city by content with smoking opium? Always making it into something that needs the unpleasantness of a needle, instead...
Jack looks Sands over curiously, wondering if he might be being tricked somehow, but the man's obviously gotten ahold of something good. Jack wants to feel that good...and, besides, what does he have to lose.

"...Why not, eh?.." He sways and holds his hands to his sides to steady himself. "I think I should sit down first..."
Thus, he moves in a leaning swagger to the uncomfortable metal couch and drops down upon it, cradling his bottle between his legs.

Sands has morphine. What he offered Jack to get him here. No opium yet or he'd be on that and unable to move. In fact the morphine has had him out most of the day. It takes him a while to get the needle into his tiny rubber target. Finally he's filling the syringe. Most of it goes right back into the bottle because a large shot will just send Jack into space.

"The fun stuff is here later. Jan is still working on the plants. But morphine will make everything nice and fuzzy. Nice and..." Sands forgets what he was saying and wanders over to the couch with a rubber tube in his other hand.
"Hold out your arm."

The syringe is clamped between his teeth as he slowly works on tying it around the pirates upper arm tightly. He whaps on the vein on Jack's inner elbow with two fingers then slips the needle in.
He's extremely practiced with it so it's barely felt. He had a harder time doing this to himself since he's never stuck a needle in his own arm before today.

The dose is low so Jack can still function. Kind of. As soon as that's done the cap is placed back on the needle and it's layed in a pile of two other used ones. Sheldon now goes about the task of lighting two cigarettes. This takes up all his concentration but after a minute he sticks one between Jack's lips and starts to enjoy his own.
"Jan is bringing me laudanum."
He's already forgotten that he mentioned the opium a few minutes ago.

He keeps a close eye on Sands as he offers over his arm. Some part of Jack's mind still registers that he's trusting a blind man to stab him with a sharp implement. In the end, it actually is done quite well.. Still...
"Owww..." Jack draws it out and makes it sound accusatory.

Rough fingers rub at the spot the needle went in as he waits for Sands to stop bloody talking, for Christ's sake...
"How long is this going to take? I've never... I... Oh." Jack gives one short, sharp laugh and lets his eyelids flutter as he sinks back against the couch. Sands may have said something about laudanum...surely it wasn't important. He's quiet and still as the rush and the sweet numb slip over him.

"Shut up. I used to do this all the time. I'm not that high." He is that high and thinks he really did hurt Jack but fuck it. He's a big bad pirate and he can take it.

"Bout that long." Sands leans back and smokes his cigarette- ashing on the floor. Every now and then he takes Jack's out of his mouth and ashes that before slipping it back between his lips.

He starts to smile to himself thinking about grabbing the cat and sitting it in Jack's lap to pet. At one point he's sure he did it but he hasn't moved at all.

Aside from fleeting moments during the finer points of a good shag or the deepest depths of inebriation (just before puking or passing out becomes the next step), this would mark the first thing Jack's done in this City that has freed him of the cold empty sickness that's hung over him since he arrived. Right now, he can't feel the persistent sense of something being...terribly wrong; that ceaseless reminder that he's died. The drugs and drink sweep that away along with much of everything else.

Jack marvels at his cigarette's disappearing/reappearing act for a while, taking long drags when he can. The filter just seems obtrusive and unnecessary, but he hasn't had anything to smoke in a while, so this is still magnificent.
In his head, he has started a conversation with Sands...only started it. And he has started it six times. He keeps finding himself waiting for reply, however, and realizing he hasn't spoken.

Finally, Jack's own hand finds its way to taking his cigarette from his mouth and his lips actually move when he has his side of this discourse.
"Not bad... Good, even... By no means a waste of poppies, to be sure.." His hands stop their gesturing and fall limp to his lap, one finally returning the cig to his mouth as he watches the cat ...do...well, nothing, actually. "I still prefer to have something I can smoke, though... It...it adds to the...ehh....atmosphere...or ambiance. Either of those, really."
Jack slips down and tries to find comfort, but the couch is metal. Sands? Sands is not made of metal, and so Jack leans on him.

Sands found several cartons of Marbs, the brand he smoked when he lived in the apartment that the city is copying. It's behind several years but oh well. And they are kind of stale. Not able to test them on the cat he ended up taking the chance and besides a slight stomach ache from the low end tobacco and the bad taste there were no bad effects from them. He misses his hand rolled because he too is unused to a filter after all these years.

"Absinthe." This is as far as Sands gets in his part of the conversation. The rest of that had to do with agreeing with Jack about the ambiance and that the Green Fairy was perfect for such a thing. But it's lost with another inhale of his own cigarette.

Being leaned on would be uncomfortable and unwanted in any other state of mind. But for now his head drops to the side using Jack's skull as his own pillow. No bright colors come to him in the blackness and the clock is still. Only their soft breathing and the tiny electronic clang each time they tap out the cigarette ash.

Jack nods in agreement. Sands makes an excellent point! Absinthe would be lovely. He shifts and the rum bottle tips against him. He starts at the movement (well, looks slowly over a few seconds after the fact) and is pleased to see that rum has found him! He brings it up and uncorks it again to take a long pull. Tilting his head back to drink, he slides down to land across Sands' lap. It's comfortable enough, so he stays.

The sick feeling is edging back, or at least that's what it feels like. In all actuality, it's just a bit of nausea and cold from the morphine/alcohol cocktail Jack is mixing. Either way, it makes him pout a bit, mourning the perfect little feeling he had going for a while. It's still fairly nice, though. Just..tainted. Oh, that reminds him...
"This thing... this place...it's a wicked thing, Sheldon, mate... I... you.. we have got to get out soon as we can... Elsewise, it shall destroy us..."

Jack's eyes fall on the half-asleep cat watching them contemptuously from across the room. "...agent of the devil... your cat is spying on us..."

The nodding of Jack's head causes Sands' to be disrupted. His neck straightens as his eyebrows raise waiting for whoever woke him to get on with their point.
Then he notices a warm body in his lap and thinks, 'this is the worst hotel I've ever been in. What is that smell?'.

Soon Jack is speaking again and it all comes back to him. For now at least.
"Jack. We are out."
His head falls back against the couch again. Not sure what to do with his hands one holds the cigarrete a little too close to the pirates' hair as the other lays limp on Jack's chest. But his twin has ruined the effect and he's once again aware of where he is.
"What if I'm dead?"

Sands takes out another cigarette and tosses it in the direction he last heard El. It's about five feet from where the cat really is. The feline turns to stare at the cigarette rolling across the floor and then goes back to watching the burnout show his new owner and his twin is putting on.
"Lazy mexican cat. And I think it's on drugs. Dreadful."

Ah, and what if they are out? This could be it. It seems as likely as anything, really... No. No such luck. Ah well. Dreads and beads rustle in Sands' lap as Jack thinks to himself. Everything is shattered when the cat is mentioned again, however, and he just goes back to quiet drinking and enjoying the new calm and silence.

Wait, he was going to say something. There's a futile moment spent organizing his thoughts, and he eventually manages to speak.
"Do you think that you are dead? Do you feel dead? ... Eventually, you'll know... " Jack falls silent, hands idly playing with the beads and coils hanging near his face. When he smells burning, he swats Sheldon's hand and the attached cigarette away.
"Either way, we'll be getting out... I am... I have to... So I will."
This is also Jack's logic when sober, but he usually tries to voice it as if there's more certainty and reason behind it.

Sands eyebrows knit together as the little trinkets in Jack's dreadlocks are move in his lap. He finally realizes it's Jack there. Why is Jack in hip lap? This is a form of masturbation he's not ready for at all. The question about him feeling dead stops any shove off of him he was planning. After thinking a moment he's too lazy to move the pirate anyway.
Especially since he's just laying there and not doing any harm. The weight is kind of nice the way it opposes the light headed feeling he has. It keeps him from suddenly thinking he's about to fall face forward. Sands' balance has been off since losing his eyes and the drugs don't help that.

"Sometimes I felt dead when I was alive. I'm not sure anymore." Sands has no idea how it truly feels to be dead. Not on his worst day. But everyone thinks they can imagine it in those low times.

"Hey." He slowly moves the cigarette back to his lips after being swatted at for no reason at all (as far as he's concerned). His own ideology about getting the fuck out matches up with Jack. So despite the language barrier at the moment he understands.
"No, they'll never catch me now. We will escape somehow... Like the song. With the... tryst in the greenery. They'll never catch us now. I wish I had a phone."

And he's gone again.

"Everything inside me's been stolen away... And they're still taking..."
Jack holds his free hand up and stares at it like he's trying to witness his life slipping from him. It's doubtful, since his condition has not worsened since his arrival, but he imagines it's getting worse all the time. Though, this is the first he's bothered to mention it.

He starts to laugh and takes a few good drinks from his bottle before he can share what's funny. Jack's cigarette is burnt down and useless and he stubs it out on the side of the metal couch as he speaks.
"N..Norry..Norrington. He's helping me out of the City, savvy? Going to...to resurrect me! ... He bloody hates me... So why all the trouble, I wonder?"

Jack takes another long pull from the rum and lets his arm go lax, dropping the bottle to rest on the floor, the mouth balancing against his fingers.
His words are slurred and mumbled beyond the usual and more a matter of his mouth moving from habit while he thinks.
"...must be a better shag than I thought I was..."
And he laughs again, because that may have been out loud.

Sands frowns. Fuck that whole idea. He makes plans to stop any resurrecting. It wont help him get out and if Jack isn't stuck here with him then he'll be even more put out. No- it was a serious mistake on Jack's part to share that bit of information.
Course the look that follows that frown is priceless. 0_o

"Aww, man! Fucking Navy!" He grabs the bottle out of Jack's hand and drinks.
"What the hell is it about boats and buttsex? The whole 'woman are bad luck on ships' thing seriously needs to be rethought."

Then another thought comes to him. A worse one. "JESUS! Jack! You look exactly like me! I talk to Norrington all the time and the man knows what I look like with his dick in my ass?" He whaps the naughty pirate on the head.
"Why would you ever wanna do that??"

The pirate pouts miserably with no audience to even appreciate the puppy-dog eyes. Not that it would be particularly effective on Sands, anyway. Still! His liquor has been stolen and he got hit. This seems unfair.
"Ow! What's the bloody hitting about?"

Oh...right. He makes a slightly disgusted face and shrugs. He'd hit himself for that, too. Fair enough.

"It wasn't something I wanted to do..well, it was...but at the moment and not now...not before, either. Was one of those bloody curses, mate! I'll not be held responsible for my actions...." He snatches at the bottle, his hands slipping around it a few times before he's able to win it back. "It's not a thing I care to repeat, that's for certain."

"This was the infamous 'please put your dick in my ass' curse?"
Sands is irritated but he's having a hard time holding on to it with all the calming drugs in his system. Now it's mostly for show.
And he didn't even bother to correct who's penis was inside who.
"Godamnit. You were the catcher weren't you? I'm so through with you."

He, however, makes no move to force Jack out of his lap or apartment.
"I hope you're also fucking plenty of beautiful women. Just for my own sake. I have to get my kicks through you, you know."

Somehow 'there were restraints involved' doesn't seem like it would put a better spin on this whole ordeal or like it would work as a viable explanation for his role in it... So Jack keeps that to himself.

"Oh, aren't you so very clever..." Jack pokes at Sands' chest...and then struggles to stop from rolling off of the man's lap and onto the floor. "whoah... If you must know, it was some terrible sort of love spell... wretched bloody day, really. ... It stopped bothering me when I found it bothers him more. ..."
Mention of positions just isn't coming up on Jack's end. Not without some prying.

"Oh, I've got a number of lovely young girls in the city. Marvelous things. Several on my crew, as well... Not a one of them knows her way about a ship, but they are a beauteous crew."

Sands grabs a fist full of Jack's shirt to help him keep from falling. But there was real hesitation there as he debated with himself on if he wanted the pirate to kiss the tiled floor or not. Not because of any homosexual activities but for the sheer funny of it.
"They should name that act after a highly decorated Naval officer."

"I don't really want to hear details but I'm very happy for you."
He doesn't sound it. The closest thing Sheldon has to a girlfriend is Jan. Not that he wants one. It just doesn't stop him from feeling sorry for himself as he's thinking about how glad he is about the lack of women in his life at the same time. He's a complicated man.

Jack couldn't agree more on the navy deserving rights to buggery as their domain, and he begins mentally working over a list of names who he feels entitled to being the new namesake due to one offense against the pirate or another. He'd share all of this with Sands, but it's difficult to stop laughing.
"...Norrington would qualify, if not for the unfortunate mess of losing his title and post. Few things are named for ex-Commodores."
And he laughs again.

Jack would be more than happy to share details. He'd even tell how Larx left him chained in his quarters, because he finds it more funny than embarrassing. Ah well. He doesn't have any desire for a 'girlfriend' either. He just knows the company stops the ticking and the fucking is a superb distraction from thinking and feeling and remembering where he is.

"S'another fine reason I need free of this damned place and soon... I'll no doubt run out of girls in this place before long."
So far there haven't been problems, but most women tend to get sick of Jack professing his adoration for them and then fucking someone else pretty quickly.

"How did that happen anyway? He seems so.. straight." Norrington mentioned to him already to stop calling him Captain because it wasn't proper and that surprised Sands. He can't imagine the guy being thrown out of anything. He's career military all the way.
"Did he use the wrong shade of hanky at someones coming out ball?"

"Even with my eyes I never got laid that often. What are you doing to these women?
... You don't even smell good."
Sands is lacking when it came to charm, unlike Jack. Also there was the fact he never tried to get laid as often as the pirate. He never had to work hard when he did get lonely. But that fact has escaped him all his life.

"Hmmm? Oh... the commodore's loss of post? Afraid that may be my doing, actually. Well...he blames me for it, anyway." Jack doesn't feel guilty or very responsible for it, but he's rarely felt responsible for much of anything.
"The man thought it wise to try and capture me... it's been the downfall of better men than he."
This isn't entirely true. He's been pursued by many a decent sailor, but never as fiercely or as far. He was lucky for the timing of a hurricane and for having the faster ship when that storm struck. Really, Jack would respect the man, were it not for the reoccurring attempts at his arrest.

Jack chuckles at learning his identical twin doesn't have his luck with girls. Clearly, this speaks volumes for the pirate's skills.
"I smell decent enough..." Not really.. "Women are like anything else in life, mate... If you want it, you only need pursue and she will be yours. I offer them possibilities... Make them wonder if they want me or I've merely convinced them of the fact... Oh, and if you're in real trouble, tell them they're 'the most lovely woman in all the world' and that you've fallen 'deeply and instantly in love.'" He smiles wickedly and closes his eyes. "Tha' works most of the time..."

"How is setting out to capture you the reason for his dishonorable discharge? I'd think that would be part of his job. Were you fucking a higher up as well to pull that one off?"

"You smell like if I showed you a bar of soap you would ask me what it was."
Sands listens to Jack's methods of attracting the opposite sex with a cock eyed look on his face. That's how he does it? When the man is finished he bursts out laughing.
"Oh! I see. You could have just made it short and sweet and told me 'Sheldon, my friend, I am an expert and finding the women whoes I.Q matched their shoe size and whoes cavernous pussy has housed all the cock that's come across them since age 12. And then I go about doing to them, with false charm, what I could have just paid for with cash. This is my secret to getting laid'."

"Ah, you see, I was properly caught and taken to the gallows. They'd gotten so far as to have Jack Catch fitting me with an unbecoming rope necklace before I made good my escape... And the commodore watched as sailed off over yon horizon." Jack practically giggles. He was, at the time, impressed and grateful, but he feels Norrington blew his one chance at turning his back on his post properly.
"This ordeal, quite apparently, did not set well with him -or rather, with those ranking above him I should wager- and I soon had the man and his fine fleet of ships at my rudder. At least, I had...til I hurricane cleared them off for me... Not certain what happened from there. Not til I saw him next as a wreck of the man he once was."
Jack shrugs. It was foolish for Norrington to think he could chase the Pearl through a storm. The pirate won't let himself feel pity for that.

Jack smirks and laughs. He reaches a hand up and lightly pats Sands' cheek while taking another drink.
"Sheldon, dear twin, when lacking in the funds necessary to purchase a night of rough trade -or lacking the interest in spending said wealth- I pay for a woman's company in honeyed lies and truths she can not understand... Now give us another cigarette."

"How did you escape that?" A smile touches the corner of his mouth. He's not sure if Jack is spinning tales or not but he likes to listen to the stories anyway. Even his twin isn't immune from being charmed by the pirates easy lies and honeyed voice. He finds himself soothed by the weight of the man in his lap and the soft sounds of his speech as his mind drifts. Still- it doesn't stop him from trying to find out all he can on Sparrow. The training runs so deep in his veins there's no telling when the cia stops and the man begins.
"Why would Norrington let you go? Where you fucking him then too?"

He obliges- lighting another one and placing it in Jack's mouth when he hears the bottle come away.

The story is put on hold while he waits for his cigarette and takes the first long drag. Jack watches the smoke trail up and away from him in soft curls.

"At the last possible moment, I was loosed from the gallows by a young lad with a strong penchant for selfless benevolence. I knew the boy's father, you see, and I had -in the days leading to this unfortunate position- placed myself as a surrogate and a mentor to the poor, confused young man." He laughs and breaks to take a pull from the rum. "Once my hanging was no longer immanent, I made for my ship and loyal crew. Oh, Norrington would have had his blade put to severing my throat in a single open second, that's certain... However, I had also made quite the positive impression on his lady love...as had the boy, Will Turner. There is nothing like the pleading of a woman to stop logical men from going about logical things...logically. Between the lot of them, and before all was done, I was allowed to part on my merry way, set free as a hero for having part in the rescue of the little strumpet."
This story always amuses Jack, but right now it is doubly so. His head lolls back over Sands' knees and he laughs and smiles to himself, watching the little show the escaping clouds of smoke are putting on.

For Sands this all translates to 'I was doing this poor boy up the butt because I knew he would never tell me no. I was also doing the girlfriend and she saved my hide. Then I left the chaos behind me.'
Partly because all except the butt fucking- this is Sands' MO as well. This is all lost as he thinks hard about the word 'stumpet'. What is a strumpet anyway? Isn't that what little Miss Muffet sat on?
No. No that was a tou...

Sands realizes Jack has stopped talking so he gives a manly grunt to signify that he was indeed listening to all that and it was all well said.
"Wait. So- you rescued her. Then she convinced him to rescue you. And Norrignton was discharged for..."
He's lost once again.
"How many of these people were you fucking up the ass??"

For some reason this has turned from a theory to a plot point in the agent's head.

"What? None... Why?" Jack considers the idea a moment, wondering where it came from, then tilts his head up at Sands. "D'you think it would have helped?"

Clearly, one of them is confused. Jack doesn't give much thought to which one or why.
"Norrington was, no doubt, hip-deep in warm shit over the affair and none-too-pleased about things besides. Eventually, he gave chase with his fleet... Lost both of his ships to a hurricane in his pursuit of me. Damn fool thing to do, really." Lest we risk sympathy or something akin to it. "I believe the loss of his ships, crew, and the pirate he'd seen to releasing came together nicely to seal the end of a career. ... I wonder if there was a warrant issued for him as well?"
Well, now he's just talking to himself. Given the present company, it's not a very far stretch from regular conversation.

Log: Ongoing

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