[ It only takes the smallest, briefest glimpse of Jack's tongue slipping from between his lips to make Irving's gaze briskly snap away, eyes still wide even while they're pointedly avoiding looking anywhere even remotely in Jack's direction.
Now, Irving's not a complete fool: it does occur to him that Jack may simply be trying to fluster him, to provoke him simply for the sport of it as have many of Irving's subordinates on Terror been known to do every now and again, although obviously none of them ever have, nor ever would, dare try something like this.
He wracks his mind desperately for any kind of other wholesome or inoffensive thoughts which he can direct all his focus toward, but nothing comes-- only the awful, accusatory clarity of Jack's words, which Irving knows he'll never be capable of letting himself forget, particularly not once Jack moves himself around to Irving's side of the table. The blurry reality of Jack's thigh, or perhaps maybe an arm, is now visible at the corner of Irving's eye, tempting him to look. ]
Not once have I lied to you, Mr. Rackham... whatever it is you may think you know about me is nothing more than inappropriate and offensive speculation.
[ His voice is low, gaze still avoidant without quite crossing into being outright skittish. Does it even still count as a lie when it's something he's all but convinced even himself is the truth, as well?
But then Irving's head turns, and though he doesn't at all intend on making eye contact, the first thing his gaze happens to land on are Jack's eyes looking back at him, staring at him with an excruciating intensity that Irving is too afraid to even try interpreting. ]
What... [ That "cornered animal" look is back in his eyes again, although a bit softer now, like Jack is slowly (very slowly) succeeding at putting Irving more at ease. ] What is it that you want from me?
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Now, Irving's not a complete fool: it does occur to him that Jack may simply be trying to fluster him, to provoke him simply for the sport of it as have many of Irving's subordinates on Terror been known to do every now and again, although obviously none of them ever have, nor ever would, dare try something like this.
He wracks his mind desperately for any kind of other wholesome or inoffensive thoughts which he can direct all his focus toward, but nothing comes-- only the awful, accusatory clarity of Jack's words, which Irving knows he'll never be capable of letting himself forget, particularly not once Jack moves himself around to Irving's side of the table. The blurry reality of Jack's thigh, or perhaps maybe an arm, is now visible at the corner of Irving's eye, tempting him to look. ]
Not once have I lied to you, Mr. Rackham... whatever it is you may think you know about me is nothing more than inappropriate and offensive speculation.
[ His voice is low, gaze still avoidant without quite crossing into being outright skittish. Does it even still count as a lie when it's something he's all but convinced even himself is the truth, as well?
But then Irving's head turns, and though he doesn't at all intend on making eye contact, the first thing his gaze happens to land on are Jack's eyes looking back at him, staring at him with an excruciating intensity that Irving is too afraid to even try interpreting. ]
What... [ That "cornered animal" look is back in his eyes again, although a bit softer now, like Jack is slowly (very slowly) succeeding at putting Irving more at ease. ] What is it that you want from me?