othercaptjack | (no subject)

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Jack's outside, today. He went for a run, most of the morning, and is now sitting by the side of the lake feeling pleased with himself. He'd kind of been afraid he would have gotten out of shape in the past few months, but apparently the Delicate Flowers is an excellent workout.

Now he's vaguely contemplaing swimming, and if anyone will really care that much if he does so in the nude.

He'll probably make a decision in half an hour or so, but for now he's just enjoying the sun.

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Matilda wanders by along the edge of the lake, staring into the water and watching the ripples. Or causing the ripples. Hard to tell, with her.

She's on a collision course and shows no signs of noticing Jack's presence. Clearly she needs lessons in the fine art of "looking where you're bloody well going".

Jack watches her progress with amusement. He lets her get within a few steps of him before deciding that interruption may be impolite, but it's also wise.

"Hey there, Tilda," he says, grinning.

Even though there's a thread in the nightclub...you can never get enough of Jack Harkness.

Inyri vaguely hates the lakeside, what with Zekka being a bastard and all. But he's still in jail, and so she's outside, a bottle of water in hand as she drops to sit next to Jack. "Hey."

She blinks and stares at him.

"Where the hell did you come from?" is the surprised exclamation she lets slip.

"I've been here the whole time," he says, after briefly considering telling her he appeared out of the lake.

It's true his hair is slightly damp from the run, but, you know. Tilda's not likely to be thrilled by having her attention drawn to that.

"You must have been pretty preoccupied."

"I was looking at the water," she says distractedly.

She's still looking at the water.

"I'm making splashes and trying to set up mathematical predictions of where they go. It's harder than I thought it would be."

"Hey," he says, with a sideways smile.

"How're you doing?"

"All right." Inyri shrugs idly, smiling slightly. "Didn't sleep well last night. You?"

It's a convenient thing that the Doctor always parks the TARDIS out here when visiting, otherwise Rose might've missed Jack entirely.

"Room out here for two, or's that sunbeam all yours?"

"Does sound tricky," he muses. "There's so many variables outside a controlled environment. Good old chaos theory's nearly been eliminated by computers, but there's still that little bit..."

He has a feeling that none of this will go over her head.

Plus, he always feels guilty talking down to kids, anyway.

"Mmm, me neither. But I suspect for a different reason."

Oh, what a hard life he leads. Er.

"You all right? Had coffee?"

Jack grins hugely and reaches out to pull her down next to him.

"Oh, this sunbeam's all mine."

Pause, wince at the line, carry on.

"How are you doing, Rose?"

She laughs softly at the first bit and shrugs. "I don't know, I think that we're often up for the same reason. And I had a little caf earlier, yeah."

Rose only wrinkles her nose a little at the cheesiness; after all, she did set herself up for that one.

"Oh, you know. About the usual."

Her bright grin betrays any sort of boredom the statement might've otherwise conveyed.

"Never the same place twice, except here and home. Just between you and me? Here's better."

"That's the way," he says. "Caffeination during the day, alcohol at night, sex wherever possible. They balance out, see."

"You're like...one of the only people I know who sees it like that." She murmurs. "I'm a pilot, pilots like sex...but if you're a girl who is a pilot and likes sex, people still look down on you. Bleh."

The face she makes with that last noise is quite impressive.

He taps his nose surreptitiously.

"I won't tell your mother. Not that I've ever met her, but I won't use my obvious secret-spilling telepathic frequency to let her know."

Jack makes a confused face.

See icon.

"Aren't you from, like," he waves a hand, "Some really advanced society that appears to have no time relation to Earth that I can work out?"

"In technology, but probably not socially." She frowns. "We have xenophobes, racism, prejudice, and whoring isn't the best profession, unless you're in a high class society. S'why Zekka takes pleasure in calling me a whore...though I never solicited outside our hotel. I seduced in classy bars."

People in classy bars > Zekka.

"Good move," he comments absently.

"Weird. Sex is great fun, once disease and pregnancy risks are taken care of, so why the stigma? I can understand in older, religion-based societies, but it's lasted so damn long. Depressing."

"It's usually a profession amongst glitbiters, which are less than savory people, usually." Inyri shrugs. "Sex for spice. I know that's what Zekka payed his whores in. I...guess that did make me one of his whores, though I just, you know, lived with him."

Rose starts to laugh, but is suddenly struck mute with horror at the thought of her mother, Jackie Tyler, meeting or even being in the same room as Jack Harkness.
Given the dispositions of both parties, any likely outcomes would result in her being unable to even look at either of them again.

"... right, Jack? You can never ever meet my mother. Ever. And I mean that."

She nods enthusiastically. "I haven't had much of a chance to really investigate what computers bring to mathematics, and there don't seem to be any good books on chaos theory in the Milliways library, but I did happen to run across a computerized simulation of fluid dynamics and now I'm trying to figure out the equations from scratch. Perhaps I should be working in a more controlled environment, but I don't have a bucket."

Jack shrugs.

"Fine line, I guess. Though I always say 'whore' is a state of mind. And not, as he seems to think, a bad one."

It can be a very profitable career, plus, you can have fun yourself and make lots of people happy! Why is it an insult?

"...Would we not get on?" Jack asks innocently.

Sort of.

But he can understand a 21st century mother being less than impressed by him, he supposes. But he could always flirt his way-

Oh, right.

"...Sorry, forget I asked that."

She shrugs. "Oh well though. I can't really bring myself to care about what others think right now. It's probably not good, and definitely not nice, but I'm pissy and a girl. So hah."

"Hah is a good way to look at things," he approves.

"And really, other people's opinions can't do much. As long as they're nobody you care about, what the hell."

"That's the problem." She sighs with a grin. "I do care about them. It's people like Shalla, and Wes. Though I don't think about Wes anymore. He's on my hitlist right now."

Silly face!

"There's bound to be one in the stables," he says cheerfully.

"But I guess for preliminary observation, out here's just as good."

Jack rolls his eyes and pets her on the head.

"What a very complicated life you do lead, sweetheart."

Although really, what's a simple life like?

"The problem is really sorting out original movement from what I'm causing. And trying to measure precisely by eye, although I've got the advantage of practice there. After a certain amount of time spent folding origami without touching it, you pick up a lot of good methodology for visual measurement."

[OOC: Explorer haaaates meeee.]

"I'd imagine so," he says thoughtfully. "Guess it depends whatyou mean by original movement. You'd probably need to work out wind movement, if that's strong enough to cause water motion at the time, and that's always changing."

"By original I mean things I didn't cause myself. It'd be a bit of a task to work out the maths governing the movements caused by every fish, rock and breeze that touches the lake. So I mostly look for still patches to muck about with, but there's a limited amount of still available."

"Yes," Jack agrees.

"Mind you, if it's a controlled environment you're looking for, I bet some people here could arrange it. ou thought about asking Sam?"

Excellent use for the powers of Lucifer, Jack. Science experiments!

"I could probably just build a mechanised water disturber myself. It wouldn't take much more than some magnets, a motor or two, and a transparent container for the water. But thanks, I'll consider that. Oh, and remind me to ask him about making me a bag that's bigger on the inside, too. This one's getting a bit awkward to carry around." She gestures to the bag she always carries with her, which indeed looks as though it weighs more than she does.

She rolls her eyes at the head pat. "Yeah, s'why I stopped paying attention."

"Ah, denial. The professional way to get through life."

She bites her lip and grins over at him. "Like we discussed, better pastimes to do than whine about how sucky one's life is."

Jack cracks up.

"Have you ever met a man called the Doctor?" he asks. "If you do, ask him about the bag thing. I don't know if he can manage, but he's bound to know about the physics of it."

"No, I never have. What's he look like? Does he come to the bar, and if so, how often? And for that matter, what's with the name? 'Doctor' is a title."

Draco was out back, doing spiral rolls and dives through the air. Occasionally skimming over the water.

He'd debate on swimming in the all together himself, but if the view's good. Well, why complain?

"His name is just the Doctor," Jack says. "I don't know if he even has another. He's about my height, lean build, light brown hair, usually scruffy, good cheekbones. Rambles like a champion. Oh, and he usually dresses in a brown pinstripe suit and sneakers. And maybe a floor length tan coat."

He leaves out 'mind-meltingly hot.' He has a feeling Matilda would be unimpressed.

He is correct in that estimation.

"...Okay, if I ever meet a skinny fluffy man with no name, I will ask him how to make a bag that's bigger on the inside. Provided I don't predict that the question will make him think I'm a nutter."

Now Jack's seen a lot, but never someone actually flying on an actual broom.

So you'll forgive him if he stares. He's trying to figure out what, if anything, is powering the thing.

Nothing but an elaborate set up of charms and enchantments. Helps if the wizard's good at flying one. Which Draco is. Had a lot of practice since he was young.

He noticed the staring, and just smirked.

Look out Jack, git on a broom's gonna buzz your head.

"Oh, no," Jack says, firmly. "He will definitely not think that. Trust me."

You know, so far as any young girl should trust Jack.

"I shall make a note of it," says Tilda, lifting her eyebrows in a way that clearly demonstrates her dubiety as to just how far that really is.

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