Log - Ongoing

[faustianfishman.livejournal.com]

When; Early morning Friday, July 25th
Rating; PG-13 (possibly R later, but only for language and violence to coffeemugs and Xboxes maybe)
Characters; Davy Jones (faustianfishman) and Griffin O'Conner (makesacrifices)
Summary; The late 1600s and early 2000s do not see eye to eye, and nowhere is this best personified than in a rather wet Ferryman and a very spastic dry Jumper.
Log;



There were, all told, far too many little pieces. And all of them were strangely shaped, or had pieces of metal bent over them, or only fit in one specific locale on the blasted device. Oh, it wasn't as though he was unfamiliar with coffee, although it was mainly a fad of the Arabs, he'd had many a run in with arrogant corsairs and had something of a passing curiosity. But this convoluted, complicated machinery--well, it was loud and unfriendly and a good deal like most of the City; hellbent on making Captain Davy Jones look a fool.

So he broke a mug. ..Well, several mugs, but all at once. And loudly.

Comments

[submariner]

The mugs hadn't even finished shattering before Griffin jumped into the room, glancing at Davy wildly before eyeing the mess. He wasn't a fan of loud, sudden noises in general, and when they happened in his own lair while he was busy trying to read through the Network device? That was even worse.

Adrenaline piqued and heart thumping quickly against his chest, he barely suppressed his urge to jump again just to release the sudden build of energy. Settled instead for glaring at the broken dishes and then leveling a scowl on his slave guest.

"The hell do you think you're you doing?!"

[faustianfishman.livejournal.com]

The Captain was not in his best mood, (if he could be said to have anything between anger and woe), but he was decidedly less than willing to directly attack his little ...proprietor, at least not yet.

"This blasted--thing'o yours," He said rather ineffectually, taking the carafe with a surprisingly dexterous claw and waving it in Griffin's general direction, "--does nae come with instructions, nor any intuitive sense." He noted after a moment the jumpiness, recalling that Griffin was at heart a loner, and smiled faintly.

"Perhaps ye've already had enough, tonight."

[submariner]

"The hell-- give me th..." he took a step forward and snatched the carafe from Davy's claw, frowning down at it. Then turned to frown at the fishman. Feeling awake enough to be making cracks, was he? "You wanna just figure it out for yourself?"

Besides. "What does this even have to do with the mugs? You're cleaning them up."

[faustianfishman.livejournal.com]

Jones frowned right back, withdrawing his claw - a gesture almost wholly ludicrous in terms of sheer physical size, but quite understandable in other respects. "Hardly. I would've thought ye bein' clothed again would grant ye less of a scathing mood."

He eyed the pieces of mug disinterestedly for a moment. They would keep. "Aye, I've no doubt I am." And that slightly elusive smile again, for just a moment, "Doubtless some important business I interrupted, Master Griffin."

[submariner]

"Not when it sounds like you were blowing up my fuckin' kitchen," he snapped, before opening his mouth again and closing it. Apparently that curse had given Jones all sorts of bravado Griffin didn't need him walking around with.

He set the carafe on the counter next to him, out of Davy's reach. "You're cleaning them up now."

[faustianfishman.livejournal.com]

The Captain's blue-flecked gaze moved in slow succession from Griffin's face, to the carafe, to the mugs, and back to the former again. Honestly, it was hard to respect a creature that most resembled a fluffy cave salamander, blinking near-blind in the light, all pale and scars and bone.

On the other hand, there was the matter of his heart, which still beat a languid self-loathing tattoo in the chest, who-knew-where.

"..Aye." Jones stooped, using claw to hook one of the larger pieces, before deciding his hands were hardly functional for the job, and knelt further to bring his facial tentacles to bear. This was humiliating, and he'd no doubt the little waif knew it.

[submariner]

Griffin laughed. He had expected the guy to get a broom but this - this was much funnier. Priceless, almost. He was honestly debating jumping to the other room and grabbing a camera, just to fuck with him for the attitude he'd been coping since he walked in during that curse.

He choked back a second bout laughter, just so he could lean against his counter.

"Not such a snot now, are you?"

[faustianfishman.livejournal.com]

There was very little to do about it, save for biting one's tongue and biding one's time. As coolly as he could, the Captain rose from the floor, with twenty plus pieces of sorely abused crockery, and passed by Griffin to deposit them into the garbage.

He turned with a kind of brooding calm to watch Griffin, and the smile this time was indisputably strained.

"I can see many a way we'd make co-existing harder for one another," He said, feeling as though the words would carry more weight with a claw around Griffin's throat, but knowing the boy would merely jump out of harm's way, "I'll make less noise."

[submariner]

Just smirks, a little, even when he has to tilt his head back up after Davy stands. The height thing is annoying, but it's not like he isn't used to it.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving a hand. Smugness restored. "Anyway, this goes here-" he picked up the coffee pot, and then demonstrated where it went in the maker, "s'not rocket science."

[faustianfishman.livejournal.com]

Well, there were other, previously demeaning things. ...Although he couldn't think what they were, he was sure this wasn't the first time.

"Aye, I'd wager it isn't," Whatever rocket science was! But Jones would be damned again, sort of if he'd let the boy feel knowledgeable about everything.

"There must be some simpler way t'make the drink," Which he was vastly growing to despise, should it come to that, "I've nae precious time to waste with this." And he gestured rather expansively to the coffee maker.

[submariner]

Griffin gives him an amused look. "Really. What else'll you be doing with your time, then?"

He flips open the top, ignoring the fishman's denouncement, and grabs the can of coffee grounds off the counter. Scoops some into the maker, then starts the sink and fills the pot with water, before pouring it in the top. Sticks the pot back in the place it goes, and flips the switch on. "There. Not that fuckin' difficult. Still confused?"

[faustianfishman.livejournal.com]

Jones twitched, fighting down another quick impulse to attack the boy, and concentrated instead on watching him work the machine, determined to replicate it later. If he was to be trapped there for any amount of time, he'd need to learn, however irritating it was, from Griffin.

"Nae, that was... sufficient demonstration." The Captain recalled with a troubled air that his abilities with the Network device were somewhat limited, as well... "Thank ye."