The ‘girls night out’ was just as wild as you
expected from Jieun.
It started off civil enough with dinner in a
gorgeous restaurant, but two hours later you were in a private room in a club
trying to make sure Jieun doesn’t fall down from the table, where she was
dancing barefoot with a bottle of wine in her hand.
Half an hour later she was sitting next to you
again, crying that she misses Minseok, and you took that as your cue to call it
“This is your fault,” Jack hissed as they heard more
windows shattering in the backroom and the sound of people crawling in, blue
eyes narrowing as he glanced across at Gabriel who had a wild grin on his face
as he reloaded his shotguns. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“You were the one that wanted to expand the business.”
“Not by starting a turf war,” Jack pointed out, even
as he checked his own weapon as they heard footsteps approaching the bar which
was currently concealing them from view, although the proximity of their attackers
didn’t stop him from hissing at his partner. “I hope they shoot you.”
“No, you don’t,” Gabriel countered smugly, leaning in
to smash their lips together, barely giving Jack chance to respond before
pulling away and rising from his hiding spot, guns already blasting and Jack is
torn between killing him and protecting him. The latter winning out as he rises
to his feet, trying not to notice the familiar rush at being able to fight by
Thanks for replying! Your word waffles have definitely been helping. I've always liked Raowl's character. Can you give us a little slice of life when she was living with maybe 5yo Riskua from Raowl's perspective?
“Left arm a little higher, chick.”
Humming, Riskua adjusts her limb, flicking a glance to her mother for approval.
Dracule Raowl stares at her for a second before a proud smile crosses her face, one hand reaching out to smooth down the fly away curls of red that frame her face.
Riskua preens under the touch, the loving caress that has become so familiar.
“That would be a stable block,” Raowl confirms, moving her own practice sword against the little wooden dagger Riskua holds. They’re not using live blades, not for practice, but they’ve been at it for hours now, got to the point Riskua’s arms are shaking.
“How does Shepard’s pie for dinner sound?”
Perking up at the question, Riskua drops her arms with a sigh, smiling.
“What'cha making, Mama?”
“Log Poses, Chick.”
Peering at the little object on Raowl’s desk, Riskua lifts a red brow, staring in surprise. Of course, someone had to make them, and Raowl’s money had to come from somewhere now that she was no longer an active pirate, but it just hadn’t quite clicked in Riskua’s head before today.
“Oh, okay. Can you show me, Mama?”
Climbing up into her lap when one long arm rises to grant her access, Riskua makes herself comfortable, inspecting all the different tools, the assortment of materials that’re used in the process. She all but sinks back into her mother’s soft heat, watching with sharp eyes as Raowl picks up some kind of bastardised solder iron.
“Now, because of how each island has its own magnetism, you have to account for…”