04-22-2022, 10:59 AM
Perhaps it really was more obvious than he thought. Blackjack figured so — he wasn't particularly of sound judgment at the moment, present enough to guide his decisions only to an extent. He could only watch on as Jormungand took note of his observing, standing to stretch out his muscles and define them beneath his scarred pelt. He knows what he's doing. The horned jaguar offered no comment or response to him but a faint, amused smile and a hushed snort to accompany it. He wasn't sure if he had felt anything of this sort before, sober or otherwise. It wasn't as though he had time to ogle at the attractive people he spoke to, and he wasn't one to act on emotional impulses anyway (such as, you know, feeling them). Because of this, the present tugging at his chest made him uncomfortable, uncertain, though he wouldn't appear as such to the other. This was a new feeling for him, but he didn't need other people to know that.
He could only watch on as the other feline stepped closer to him, announcing his victory in a sultry manner as he extended a claw out to his lip, wiping off the remnants of vodka from it and licking it. If fumes could be emitted from one's skull, they would surely both be surrounding in a thick, black cloud being exhumed from Blackjack, who, though stoic as ever, had not a single clue on how to respond to Jormungand's advances. Were these advances? He certainly hadn't been acting like this before. He found himself cursing his past self for not having allowed himself to indulge in his emotions towards others — maybe then he'd know what the fuck to do now.
Nonetheless he could not stand there like a fool. He'd have to reply somehow. "The reptile on your chest," Blackjack said, his eyes lowering down to the permanent, intriguing mark on the Skald's chest. Changing the topic again, huh? Smooth. He found himself moving closer to the other as well, extending out his obsidian paw to run an all-too-inquisitive digit along the mark, gently in case it was fresh and still hurting him, though it seemed fairly old and faded. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to touch the man's chest. Maybe not. Who would ever know? "Where did it come from?" It was evident that Blackjack had lost interest in their earlier game. There were other stakes to raise, it seemed.
He could only watch on as the other feline stepped closer to him, announcing his victory in a sultry manner as he extended a claw out to his lip, wiping off the remnants of vodka from it and licking it. If fumes could be emitted from one's skull, they would surely both be surrounding in a thick, black cloud being exhumed from Blackjack, who, though stoic as ever, had not a single clue on how to respond to Jormungand's advances. Were these advances? He certainly hadn't been acting like this before. He found himself cursing his past self for not having allowed himself to indulge in his emotions towards others — maybe then he'd know what the fuck to do now.
Nonetheless he could not stand there like a fool. He'd have to reply somehow. "The reptile on your chest," Blackjack said, his eyes lowering down to the permanent, intriguing mark on the Skald's chest. Changing the topic again, huh? Smooth. He found himself moving closer to the other as well, extending out his obsidian paw to run an all-too-inquisitive digit along the mark, gently in case it was fresh and still hurting him, though it seemed fairly old and faded. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to touch the man's chest. Maybe not. Who would ever know? "Where did it come from?" It was evident that Blackjack had lost interest in their earlier game. There were other stakes to raise, it seemed.
[glow=#f4c430,2,300]how to rob men blind[/glow] — ♠