milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Hey, it's after eighteen hundred hours - legitimate martini time!

Captain Jack Harkness bounds cheerfully downstairs, before pausing at the bottom of the stairs in the realisation that the bounding has become definitely... bouncier. And his clothes are suddenly too big.

That's just not right.

"Bar!"

Hmm. Yes, definitely bouncier. Also... softer. Fascinating.

He -- she, for the moment, wanders further in, swaying experimentally, and shrugging off the much-too-big jacket to carry over one noticeably slimmer shoulder. A martini appears before she can even ask, and Jack accepts with a rueful grin and an elegant bow.

"You couldn't at least have put me in something slinky?"

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"I would bet there is a joke involved there..."

Jack turns, flicking her hair out of her eyes - okay, how do women live with that? - and grinning.

"Looks like. Must be something to do with Halloween, Bar does seem to like her jokes."

"She could be a bit less... cryptic. I have no idea of who or what she dressed me as..."

Jack examines him.

Eyes up. Whichever.

"...Huh. Me neither, actually. That, however, is a fabulous coat."

"And is comfortable too. Thank you." A hand is offered. "Mace Windu."

Jack takes it cheerfully, noting with interest how much bigger it is than hers, how his fingers feel rougher - that would be hers being smoother, really - and shaking.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Pleasure."

And his hand is strong too, but gentle. "My pleasure, Captain..."

And very nice it is, too.

Jack nods up - wow, upwards, this is new - and flicks her hair backwards again, irritable. Maybe he could spike it a bit, get it out of the way... Ooo. Playing with hair. Makeup. So much to play with, so little time...

"So, what do you normally do, Mace?"

"I am currently a teacher at the House of Arch, in London Below. YOurself?"

"Oh, I'm a whore," she says cheerfully.

"Work for Madam Lilly at the brothel upstairs - professional name's Larkspur. Usually in a bit more of a male capacity, but what can you do?"

"I heard of the Brothel." Mace nods. No opinion in favor or against.

Jack nods pleasantly, and sips her martini.

"Yeah, we're fairly well known."

"And must have a very varied clientelle." Just a fact... right?

"Oh, very," says Jack, and that's rather a lacivicious look on her face - for Jack, 'varied' pretty much describes his entire back catalogue.

Mace can not help himself but chuckle a bit... "Interesting..."

"That's how I like life," says Jack, downing the last of her drink. "So, really, Bar gave me all I could ask for."

"I see; that is good, most people seem to be unsatisfied with their lives."

"That's what makes us strive for more," she replies, lifting her glass again - not noticing that Bar has refilled it.

"But there is not satisfaction? A point when you stop wanting more?"

"...Usually around two or three AM," says Jack seriously. "Depending when you began and the relative staminas involved."

Okay, that gets a laugh out of him... and a smirk. "So, you do not stay until morning?"

"Eh, depends. Sometimes it's not the most comfortable location, you get me? Either that, or a few hours sleep becomes appealing."

Not recently, however. But hey, no complaints there.

"Ah, let me reword it... you do not -last- until the morning?" There is a slight tone of... dare?

"In my other body, it depends," Jack smirks. "In this one... well, I don't actually know. Pity, that."

"There is a simple way to find out."