It's a uniquely terrible feeling, the waiting, and Eliot studies Jack for a reaction of shock or revulsion or outrage at the admission, to see if he's just killed this friendship in its cradle.
But there's...none of that, he realizes, and he lets out the breath he'd been holding with a little laugh of relief. Jack's a bit awkward about it but he's just...maybe a bit awkward in general, Eliot thinks. He honestly seems more concerned about finding the right size of jeans than reevaluating his opinion of Eliot, and that's...something. Something good, Eliot decides, even if it's rooted in avoidance out of discomfort it's a better place to start from than outright hostility. He can work with that.
"Huh," he says, both at Jack's relative nonchalance and the tag on the pair he's holding. How thin is he? But he keeps talking, and the explanation he offers sounds a bit like the old rote 'I have gay friends,' but Eliot realizes it's more that Jack just...doesn't care. Which is wildly fucking refreshing, and he quirks an eyebrow at the mention of arrangements; that's certainly something to follow up on.
"Well that's...good to know, I suppose." Eliot takes a moment to fuss with his coat, folding it over his other arm since he's starting to get too warm. It gives him something to do while he works out what to say. "I have to say I'm surprised," he says eventually, careful. "Not about England, of course, they've always been rather terrible about that sort of thing but...well. I guess I just didn't expect pirates to be that accepting. My mistake."
He doesn't know much about real pirates, truth be told, though he was always rather enamored of the pirates in the Fillory books. The ones in The Secret Sea Eliot remembers fondly, though he supposes even they weren't real pirates but nobles masquerading at piracy to avoid their enemies. He'd liked the captain in particular, an exiled duke seeking justice for a crime he didn't commit. Very compelling stuff, the sadness behind the facade; romantic and dangerous, just as Jack's said.
"Wonder if I could have made a go of it," Eliot muses, looking at a shelf of skinny velvet jeans. He picks out a pair in dark berry red for himself. "What do you think, mixing swashbuckling and sorcery? That would probably get results, right? Anyway," he looks around, spotting the doorway to the fitting rooms not far off. "You've got enough things to try on for now, if you'd like." Or if they need a change of subject; Eliot wants to make sure the option's available.
no subject
But there's...none of that, he realizes, and he lets out the breath he'd been holding with a little laugh of relief. Jack's a bit awkward about it but he's just...maybe a bit awkward in general, Eliot thinks. He honestly seems more concerned about finding the right size of jeans than reevaluating his opinion of Eliot, and that's...something. Something good, Eliot decides, even if it's rooted in avoidance out of discomfort it's a better place to start from than outright hostility. He can work with that.
"Huh," he says, both at Jack's relative nonchalance and the tag on the pair he's holding. How thin is he? But he keeps talking, and the explanation he offers sounds a bit like the old rote 'I have gay friends,' but Eliot realizes it's more that Jack just...doesn't care. Which is wildly fucking refreshing, and he quirks an eyebrow at the mention of arrangements; that's certainly something to follow up on.
"Well that's...good to know, I suppose." Eliot takes a moment to fuss with his coat, folding it over his other arm since he's starting to get too warm. It gives him something to do while he works out what to say. "I have to say I'm surprised," he says eventually, careful. "Not about England, of course, they've always been rather terrible about that sort of thing but...well. I guess I just didn't expect pirates to be that accepting. My mistake."
He doesn't know much about real pirates, truth be told, though he was always rather enamored of the pirates in the Fillory books. The ones in The Secret Sea Eliot remembers fondly, though he supposes even they weren't real pirates but nobles masquerading at piracy to avoid their enemies. He'd liked the captain in particular, an exiled duke seeking justice for a crime he didn't commit. Very compelling stuff, the sadness behind the facade; romantic and dangerous, just as Jack's said.
"Wonder if I could have made a go of it," Eliot muses, looking at a shelf of skinny velvet jeans. He picks out a pair in dark berry red for himself. "What do you think, mixing swashbuckling and sorcery? That would probably get results, right? Anyway," he looks around, spotting the doorway to the fitting rooms not far off. "You've got enough things to try on for now, if you'd like." Or if they need a change of subject; Eliot wants to make sure the option's available.