Late Night Games With a Bottle of Rum
Jack attempts to beat a rival in a late night game. Short drabble.
AN: My first stab at humour. I usually stick to angsty-er stories, so this is all new territory for moi. Enjoy.
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Deep chocolate brown eyes stared intently at their target, never wavering. Jack's beloved hat sat crooked on his head, the front pointing in a general direction to the left. He never moved, he didn't dare to move. He was going to win this, no matter how long it took or how tired he became. No one would ever triumph over the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow. His opponent stared back. Both of them were locked in a visual war, neither willing to back down.
Buzz.
A fly was circling around the cabin, landing here and there before settling on Jack's cheek. It crawled around his face, stopping every once and a while to take a taste. He attempted to rid the fly by only facial movements, but the insect simply moved to sit on the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. That was it. Jack let out a cry, swinging his hand up to smack it, missing it by several seconds and only causing him to blink in the process.
The shrill cry of his opponent only confirmed his loss.
Jack glared across the table. "Ye know... you're lucky you're e'vn on me ship, ya dirty scoundrel! I should'a tossed ye overboard when I 'ah the chance. A pity the lass 'as taken a liking to ye, or ye would've been a decent dinner for the crew."
The opponent only smiled in return. Jack handed over the coin bag, which were snatched up greedily as soon as they were within arms' reach. He sighed, relaxing back more into his chair as he watched the monkey skitter off with the coins in tow.
"Bloody animal," he muttered, before taking a rather large swig of rum.
