In Which a Meeting for the Ages Occurs

[notjackkerouac]

The thing about England -- about Europe in general, in fact -- is that its public buildings have yet to develop an appreciation for air conditioning. Beads of sweat have started to gather on the back of Jack's neck as he slumps on a bench in the entrance hall of the King's College law library. June in London isn't anywhere near as humid as June in

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[fortiter_in_re]

Sorting through all his papers, finding the correct folders for all of them, signing and stapling where it's needed, James feels immensely pleased with himself. He always enjoys the mock trials much more than the hours of sitting through lectures and poring over massive law books, and this particular one was much more interesting than usual. Selwyn, the poor bastard, had been assigned to take the defence, but the defendant himself had hardly let him get a word in edgewise, spinning stories and coming up with some of the most creative excuses James had heard in a long time

[notjackkerouac]

"Soon to be Esquire," Jack supplies, rubbing his thumb lightly over James Norrington as-he-knows' wrist; a good trick for sussing out how far Jack will get. "The man who will get two verses of Jail House Blues dedicated in his name." He gives a grin to show the comment was made is good fun and takes the fag from his mouth. "Call me Jack."

He turns to follow James L. down the hall. It's clear that he wasn't expecting Jack to turn up again and there's something pleasing in that, that Jack can still catch a man off-guard when he sets his mind to it. He's been out of London for four months and got a bit lax at chatting people up.

He holds the door open for James as they pass outside. Now would be the time to light his cigarette except he still can't place where his lighter went. "Have a light on you? Must have misplaced mine." He positions himself slightly in front of James, keeping himself in the way, so that James can't run off on him.

"Pretty fancy footwork, er, voicework in there. Know your subject well."

[fortiter_in_re]

The reason Jack Sparrow is hanging about outside the university library is apparently, James realises as he flashes a grin, stroking a thumb over the skin of his wrist, to attempt to chat him up. He can't quite decide if he's amused, flattered, or vaguely appalled that that's the sort of impression of him a defendant should leave court with, so he settles on a wry sort of smile. He'd hardly had time or attention to notice in court, but Jack Sparrow is not at all a bad looking man, if a little... unconventional in his appearance

[notjackkerouac]

Jack nearly wants to laugh when James offers to light his cigarette for him but he keeps it to a smile, swaying in to curl his hand around the flame, touch the tip of his cigarette into the fire. He nearly wants to make some sort of comment about how he now owes James a sexual favour, but he refrains, having not heard that theory since Benny Black told him it at age twelve and then stuck his hand down Jack's trousers behind the school building