Jack smiles at the idea of being someone's ideal pirate, and takes in the advice about the jeans. He shoves the bootcut jeans back into the little shelf and reaches up a little higher to find a pair of jeans that match the pair Eliot had picked out. He's still kneeling on the floor when Eliot changes the subject and he's concentrating more on picking out what he hopes is the correct size than what Eliot is saying.
He grunts as he stands back up, just in time for Eliot to get to his point. He focuses on Eliot's crooked smile and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can think of anything to say or ask why he's telling him this now, Eliot continues on. It seems that these days not much has changed for general attitudes about men fucking other men, if Eliot is this worried about what he thinks of him.
"I don't care who you fuck, Eliot." He looks down at the clothes in his arms and chuckles, feeling awkward with the topic and not entirely sure why. Maybe it's just that it seemed to come out of nowhere. "And If one of us is a degenerate sinner, I doubt a predilection for buggery would tip the scale in your favor." Jack doesn't imagine that Eliot is very prone to violent crime, especially not the sort that happens aboard a pirate ship.
He glances back at Eliot, checking in before turning to look at a pair of pants that aren't made of denim. "...in London you could have been hanged for it if you angered the wrong person, but plenty of men on-ship have ah- arrangements." He shrugs. "It's decidedly not for me but- It's not uncommon. If the crew functions better for it and it's not causing problems then I don't give a shit what they get up to."
no subject
He grunts as he stands back up, just in time for Eliot to get to his point. He focuses on Eliot's crooked smile and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can think of anything to say or ask why he's telling him this now, Eliot continues on. It seems that these days not much has changed for general attitudes about men fucking other men, if Eliot is this worried about what he thinks of him.
"I don't care who you fuck, Eliot." He looks down at the clothes in his arms and chuckles, feeling awkward with the topic and not entirely sure why. Maybe it's just that it seemed to come out of nowhere. "And If one of us is a degenerate sinner, I doubt a predilection for buggery would tip the scale in your favor." Jack doesn't imagine that Eliot is very prone to violent crime, especially not the sort that happens aboard a pirate ship.
He glances back at Eliot, checking in before turning to look at a pair of pants that aren't made of denim. "...in London you could have been hanged for it if you angered the wrong person, but plenty of men on-ship have ah- arrangements." He shrugs. "It's decidedly not for me but- It's not uncommon. If the crew functions better for it and it's not causing problems then I don't give a shit what they get up to."