[Action]

[abidinglaw]

[After having shown his face little over the past few days – probably a joint consequence of not wanting to catch whatever Jack had and wanting even less to be press ganged into holding his bloody soup spoons – Norrington begins this morning absent from his bright and bedless bedroom. He wakes with the rising sun for a rousing stroll on the beach. On the way back, with Cullen house lit by the crisp light of morning, he recalls the recent ice storms and all at once he has a goal for the day. Assess the house for damages. If any housemates are home they might just hear some curious scrapings on the exterior of Cullen house, the occasional bangings, but most ominous of all will likely be the prolonged intermittent silences. Never you mind. It's probably just a woodpecker.

Later in the day he'll be in the village proper for the first time in days and days and days. The item shop is a high priority, and he spends a long time there scrutinizing things with narrowed eyes and a chin cradled in the crook made by his thumb and index finger. Later still, he'll be stopping in at Good Spirits for the sake of overhearing village-gossip. He'll even politely clear his throat behind one or two people in aid of this noble goal. It's amazing what a brief absence will do for a man's social skills.]

Comments

[abidinglaw]

"Quite right. What would be the use."

But of course he said it in such a way as to suggest that at this particular moment he could think of little that would be more useful.

[herotypical]

"More juice, maybe? I hear there's a cold going around. Even if Jack's doing better."

[abidinglaw]

Had he already drained his glass? Evidently. If Buffy's eye caught on to that fact before Norrington did, the glance he gave toward the door would surely broadcast his reluctance to hang around. In fact, the only thing that anchored the admiral's feet in place was the memory of the nasal broadside that he had been subjected to not days earlier - a memory which Miss Summers herself had unwittingly conjured.

"Very well. I suppose I could tolerate one more glass."

[herotypical]

"You're a sailor. You've gotta know how important vitamin C is in fighting off...what is it? Scurvy? Yeah. I'd hate to see your teeth fall out."

It was bad enough looking ad Jack's gold ones.

[abidinglaw]

"I once knew a man with wooden teeth. He confided in me once that he did not mind the change to his appearance half so much as the splinters. Or at least, I believe that that was what he said, but they did clack terribly loudly you see."

[herotypical]

"...You're joshing me."

[abidinglaw]

"Oh no, far from it. He was a wealthy fellow. He insisted upon French maple for the teeth themselves and a chap in London cut them for him. He said he would not trust the job to any man but the most humble British laborer. Or, I should say, that was what I took him to mean."

[herotypical]

"If he was so wealthy, why didn't he just...get...a non-wooden pair?"

[abidinglaw]

"I did ask him that myself, but -- the clacking, you understand. It would have been impolite to press the issue."

[herotypical]

"Your an admiral. Doesn't that give you at least one press-the-issue free card?"

[abidinglaw]

"I was not always Admiral."

If his tone was chiding, it was only so that he could mask the underlying regret.

[herotypical]

"You mean...you weren't born this way?"

This time, the snark is slightly buried.

[abidinglaw]

"You flatter me."

He knew she did nothing of the sort.

[herotypical]

"What can I say? I live to flatter. So. What's before admiral?"

[abidinglaw]

"Commodore."

The urge to make up some nonsense rank for her to bring up in conversation with Jack an unknown number of weeks down the road is curbed only by his certainty that it would backfire horribly.

"What comes before Slayer?"

[herotypical]

...Reproach and sadness and a little bit of chagrin all touch her expression.

"Girl. Just...girl."

[abidinglaw]

God but this young lady was a conversational minefield.

"Is there no training, no practice?"

Why was he getting into this? He knew it was a mistake.

[herotypical]

"Hmm? Oh. Sure. For the ones who are earmarked from birth. They get their very own Watchers from the get go. The rest of us? We wake up sometime around the age of fifteen and can suddenly tear doors off their hinges."