Oh Captain, My Captain!

[Jacquez Trouillefou]

[html]

OoC:... "Who does like cages?" he shrugged. Certainly not him, although no one in his lifetime had ever really tried to control him. He had always been in charge. That was the way things were meant to be. He could see a flicker of the same leading spirit within Svara's battered husk, which was what had sparked the impulse to keep her at his side. She was in charge now, so why worry about how others used to expect things of her? Jacquez raised an eyebrow at her violent words, vaguely amused by how flatly and emotionlessly she spoke them. "It is not my concern, whether the women who choose to share me wish to share the story," he lilted, lips pursed as he met her vivid lemon stare. It was true, but still, he would be concerned if he learned that Svara had gone on a murdering spree, slaughtering the lovely ladies that offered him their company. He didn't take unwilling participants, only volunteers. If word got out that the militant Constable intended to off anyone who, well, "participated"... "I cannot, however, offer you any kind of stability. You know this. I am not a man looking for a family, for a one true love. I enjoy playing the field. You must not forget that I am not to be controlled." Truth be told, he was a little perplexed as to what she was looking for. If she did not want a mate, why did it matter who else he spent his time with? Was she jealous enough to succumb to hypocrisy, asking him to remain single just for her? It went against his nature. He liked that Svara was freeform, composed of shifting moods and passions. It had surprised him in the first place to learn that she already had a mate, and then she turned the tables, dumping him days after. He could not tell whether he was to be her next "fling", or if the attraction she felt would tie her to him, stronger than any previous bond. "You are difficult to understand," the Frenchman replied smoothly, dark eyes watching calmly as she turned away yet again. She was clearly uncomfortable with opening up thus; she had to visibly struggle to keep her guard down, and seemed to want nothing more than to slip away into the darkness. There was tension in her slender shoulders, a stiffness in her seated posture. "Although I appreciate the effort," he added dryly, leaning forward on his one arm to nudge her with his nose. He didn't like how serious the conversation had become, mimicking the night sky draining its colours into inky blackness. .

[/html]