"You wouldn't kill me," he said smugly, looking at her with a bright smile, the smudge of cannon soot contrasting with his sharp eyes. "I just know it."
"I totally could if I wanted, but you're lucky, because I don't want to. That, and I don't like the thought of you dying. I'm not saying I couldn't kill you, but if I really wanted to, then yes, I could," she said, watching him. At first, she didn't realize she was staring, but when she did she quickly looked down.
He laughed at her words, shaking his head. "Right," he said sarcastically. "I'm sure you would be able to."
"I could! I'd just face to close my eyes, that's all. And I wouldn't be able to know it was you, you know?"
"What if I talked the whole time?" he asked, moving onto the next cannon. "So you'd hear me describe every action you were making."
"I think I'd cry. Do you really want that? Would you want me to cry?" she asked seriously. "I've been told it's very sad to see me cry."
"No," he said immediately. He paused, perhaps sensing that he'd been too quick to answer and cleared his throat. "No, I don't want that."
She tilted her head, watching him with a gaze that could only be considered affectionate. "Oh, good. Because that's probably what would happen if I killed you, therefore, I'm not allowed to kill you."
(I thought you were cool, Eluuna) She rolled her eyes and stood up, finished with cleaning yet another cannon. "You're right," she said, her voice a bit distracted. "It's a bit chilly down here. I kinda like it."
(Stuffy, in my spare time, I enjoy writing roleplays on a site for My Little Pony. How cool could I be?) "Are you cold?" he asked, concerned. He shifted out of his cloak and offered it to her. He wore a simple white shirt underneath and brown trousers. "You can take it, if you'd like."
"Oh, cool!" She put it on, then squinted at him. "Look! I'm Jack! I call people pretty and then take it back!"
He squinted at her. "You seem very consumed with the idea that I may have called you pretty," he said, crossing his arms and tilting his head to look at her. "Does it really matter that much to you?"
"Yes, actually. It does matter to me. Your opinions matter a lot to me." She pulled the cloak tighter around her, grinning at him.
His cloak smelt of him, various scents mingling like sea salt, rope loops, and something else that was difficult to name. Almond, maybe. Jack raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Fine," he said, shrugging. "Avice Church Rohesia, I think you're very, very pretty." He smirked at her. "Happy now?"
She blushed, but hid her face in her hands. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" she mumbled, peeking at him through her fingers.
"You asked for it," he said easily, leaning against the cannon and watching her blush with a wide smile. "I only aim to please."
"I did not! In fact, I was trying to mock you, and then you go and do that and make me all flustered!" She threw her hands up in the air. "You must have fun messing with me!"
"The real question is," he said, wiping his knuckles with the rag, "is why were you so affected by it? It shouldn't fluster you at all if you don't care."
(Asking the real questions) "And I do care. About opinions. Your opinion, really." She crossed her arms. "Besides, you got flustered when I said you had a nice face, so explain that!"
