tampered | Log: Complete

Log: Complete

When; March 12 (afternoon)
Rating; PG13? Language?
Characters; Jack Harkness

handsomejack, the Corinthian

bitingnightmare
Summary; Sometimes there are those who sound like people you just seriously need to meet.
Log;

He waited at the Coliseum, nursing an untouched glass of vodka. Liquor in the afternoon was just what the Corinthian needed after talking to Foster. At this point he no longer cared who saw him out at this time or whom he was with. A man with an interesting perspective and no first hand knowledge of who the nightmare was (or what he was) would do the trick. He remained still at the table, but his teetheyes were on guard for a 'gorgeous' man wrapped in a World War II coat.

Judging from the few times they'd spoken on the network, he assumed it would be an Allies coat.

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It was indeed an Allies coat, long and sweeping though the man who wore it moved as if it were almost a second skin by now.

Jack was definitely curious about this man who's name he didn't even know. Of course, wouldn't be the first time he'd spent time with someone and never bothered to get their name, sometimes the conversation was simply stimulating enough that the little details got shuffled aside.

Standing in the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets Jack studied the room looking for the figure who matched the description of white hair and sunglasses. Eventually, sharp eyes found the man he was looking for and the Captain arched an eyebrow.

Handsome.

Smiling, somewhat wickedly, he started towards the man.

The length and sweep of military wool was hard to miss. Secondly, the Corinthian noticed he was a handsome brunette. This was starting to become a pattern.

"British," he asked, gesturing to the coat casually before he nudged a chair out for Jack. He wouldn't mention he'd fought for Germany; that was water under the bridge.

"American, actually." Jack corrected with what had often been termed a brash accent. "But volunteered with the British."

Politely shrugging out of his coat, ignore the military issue Webley on his hip, he hung the coat over the back of the chair and took the offered seat.

And yes, water under the bridge now. There were plenty of new wars to take it's place.

"You know your history, though?"

An American for the British forces, not uncommon, but he didn't think Jack came out straight from the 40s either... no pun intended there. Cori remembered Eugene who did come straight from his ship and to the City.

The revolver caught his eye but he said nothing about it. The Corinthian preferred blades himself and kept his concealed somewhere on his person. Finally he took a sip of that liquor.

"I do. Not for that Spirit of the Blitz shit though," he smirked.

He pushed his sunglasses up, further concealing the rows of teeth that lined his eyelids.

Was anyone ever exactly who they looked like?

Catching the bartender's eye, Jack smiled and simply ordered a water before he turned his attention back on the man and his interesting statement.

"Not a fan of Over There are you?"

Water, and not coffee after all?

The Corinthian raised his chin slightly, an upnod to the brunette but not quite there yet. He was taking in the square of his jaw and the curve of his lips after his question. Cocky was the first conclusion the nightmare drew about Jack Harkness.

"Hardly. I prefer St. James Infirmary Blues," Cori then nodded.

He remembered telling Blue the same.

Expressive eyebrows swept upwards and Jack was still for a moment as he took a good long look at the man sitting across from him.

"Music as a morality tale?" He asked, sitting back with easy confidence but definitely an alert and curious air.

There was definitely something particular about his companion but then Jack had already expected that, given the tempo of their exchanges across the PDA.

"And a good beat," he added before taking another sip.

His demeanor was casual as well, perhaps not exuding any confidence so much as he was exuding a few definitions of his name. But Jack didn't know his name yet, did he? Those were easy enough to find on the network, however it wasn't the same as getting a name in person. Even then, whoever said it was their real names they shared with each other?

"Spoon full of sugar and all that," Jack agreed with a small grin, reaching for his water as it was placed before him.

As the name and rank both belonged to a man who was long dead but closely mourned, yes it was unlikely that real names would be used. Perhaps that was part of why Jack didn't feel any urgency to push the man sitting across from him, to give up his.

"So, are you a student of the period," he asked, touching his coat. "Or a survivor?"

"I fought for the side in the mud," he admitted, as close as he would get without saying he'd sided with the Germans.

He knew better than to defend the position, and really, the Corinthian had no excuse for it. It wasn't this one, this version that was speaking to Jack, who had crawled in the trenches, but he had those memories because a version of him had been there. Predecessors were a complicated mess, and he was here enjoying a drink with the Captain because he found Jack uncomplicated so to speak.

"Expatriate or just passing through?" The nightmare countered his question with a sly grin. It was hit or miss, but Cori felt there was a high probability that Jack wasn't born in this century. At least the century belonging to his own world.

Jack nodded, getting the reference but appearing to take the information in stride.

Though it had been a nightmare at the time, looking back it had been a dance in man's kind that was as brutal to both sides as it had been glorious. There was little point of holding any sort of ire against a man who had been an enemy so long ago, especially since there was a possibility that they both shared the same sort of memories.

History was often written by the winners after all and those who knew what really happened were more inclined to tell you, it had been a draw.

The question was a fair one and though Jack had always tended to play his cards close, there was something about this 'City' that made his well guarded secrets seem not so important.

"Little bit of both," he admitted. "First time, just passing through. Second time ... well, I supposed expatriate is as good a description as any."

Only the people who'd actually been there would remember the wars were fought on paper behind closed doors, and the fighting in the field was a different battle that varied from man to man. Perhaps Jack wasn't all cocksuredness and arrogance.

"You've aged well," the Corinthian remarked. The compliment was most genuine, the Captain had excellent good looks, and it just as easily implied the nightmare's assumption.

He wasn't known for owning up to his immortality. It was still too new to him to be entirely at ease in that skin but his time with the Doctor had helped. As did the fact that this man wasn't exactly phrasing it in the form of a question, which told Jack that bluffing was going to be a waste of breath.

Instead, he smiled rakishly and gave a preen that was more silly than genuinely vain.

"I pluck out the gray hairs."

"I don't have a problem with that," Cori quipped.

He ran his own fingers through short white hair. It was the color of a crisp snow and it was healthy and full, cropped close to his head to show off the silver earring in his left ear. The nightmare hadn't aged white or even turned white; he was made this way.

"See," Jack gestured gracefully. "On you it looks dashing."

The compliment was genuine, the nightmare might have been made that way but he'd been made very nicely.

"Me, in all this rich chestnut, it just stands out like a sore thumb and then I start worrying about laugh lines and whether or not I can still pull off hot pants in the summer and my self esteem takes a total blow. So, I pluck them."

Even close on the heels of the horror that was WWII and the giving up of personal details, Jack never seemed to stay down for long, his high spirits returning and making his eyes twinkle with boyish mischief.

Dashing, he repeated to himself, only to conclude Jack Harkness was someone to keep an eye on, for his silver tongue.

... Then Cori had to take a gulp of his drink for that. Hot pants under the coat he had already begun to associate with Jack was an image that the nightmare found alarming and unappetizing. Mischief was an understatement in this case.

"Are you going to tell me you dye too," asked the nightmare in good humor. He didn't think Jack had to color correct, he would have mentioned it by now, considering his remark on cosmetic appearances and fashion.

Jack would probably agree that hot pants should never be worn by the male of any species. It was sort of like a mini skirt over 60, just don't go there.

Laying his fingers against his chest in a dramatic fashion, Jack affected a gasp.

"Goodness no," he exclaimed in a tone that would have done a model proud. "This is all natural, perhaps a hint of sun bringing out the highlights but otherwise I was born with this level of perfection."

There was -hopefully!- enough of a grin at the corner of his lips to show that he wasn't taking himself seriously.

The Corinthian tipped his sunglasses down, to inspect Jack's chestnut hair from their distance of one bar table. After a moment he pushed his glasses back up and relaxed in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the result of his scrutiny. Cori knocked back the last of his vodka.

"You're sprouting a gray one at the temple," he said in a calm and cool manner, which he meant he wasn't being serious either.

"Now see, were it not for the fact that I'm quite enjoying our stimulating conversation, I'd be running off to the men's as we speak to pluck it."

[ooc: When he drew his sunglasses down, was it enough for Jack to see the mouths for eyes?]

"Maybe that's where I want you to go."

The Corinthian turned his head briefly, to watch Jack's reaction from the corners of his teetheyes, shades drawn. He was good at that, the teeth allowed him to hone in on any detail he wanted, but without real pupils or irises it was harder for others to tell just what he was watching.

[ooc: Just enough to see half works for me.]

Jack arched an eyebrow.

Whether it was at the Corinthian's words or the brief flash of ... something that had caught his attention when the man lowered his sunglasses, well it might be hard to tell.

Filing away the latter for later contemplation, Jack focused on the former and smiled wickedly at the man.

"I should warn you, I tend to take handsome men up on offers like that."

"That's the idea," the Corinthian replied, referring to an innuendo that Jack may or may not have intended.

Words were clawing at the back of his mind, a voice telling Cori... If you're a dog to me, I'll never forgive you. He decided that Blue hating him was worse than the nightmare hating himself. He tried to listen to that voice as he studied Jack Harkness, all style and confidence, and unaware of his circumstances. Or could he read it off the Corinthian's body language?

With Jack, probably it was intended, though the eyebrow remained arched as he studied the man across the table from him.

Not as if he hadn't been the subject of a 'booty call' from time to time, the guy was definitely hot enough and since he was obviously a grown man, he could deal with any repercussions on his end of things. As a rule, if he knew there was a significant other in the picture, he tended to back off but he didn't know, did he?

Making a slow study of the Corinthian from over top the rim of his water glass, Jack pursed his lips thoughtfully and finished his water in a gulp.

"Not the worst idea I've heard," he said, looking up towards the reflection of those sunglasses and moving to slowly stand up, giving the other man the chance to call him back to his seat.

The fact that Jack didn't know was the appeal. The fact that Jack didn't know his past or his history in the City was the biggest attraction. The fact that he was good looking and charming was also a perk. Jack seemed friendly too, generally he gave the Corinthian the impression of a good man.

He on the other hand was being duplicitous. He waved a hand for Jack to reclaim his seat, and if that wasn't clear, he spoke.

"Sit down. I didn't even buy dinner yet," the nightmare remarked, nodding to the brunette with subtle but genuine apology. He didn't think 'dinner' truly had any significance for either of them, but the Cori needed to save face. Somehow.

There was a story here but Jack wasn't one to ask questions. Well, okay he was but maybe not on a first 'date'.

Instead, he regained his seat with affable aplomb and quirked up one corner of his mouth, unspoken acceptance of the apology.

"I'm never one to turn down an offer of dinner," he said with a cheeky but playful sort of grin, none of the flash of heat from just a moment ago.

He did turn to motion for another water, giving the other man a moment further to shake off whatever it was that had taken him. Jack understood the need to, save face.

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