[ The color rises in Irving's face again, not a bright and sudden glow of heat this time but rather a steady, comfortable flush, not unlike the warm and pleasant way the alcohol itself has been coating his mind and nerves. He doesn't flinch away, although his wrist does twitch, as if from Jack's responding touch he's finally having to force himself to acknowledge what their hands -- mostly Irving's -- are doing.
Strangely enough, it's always been easier for Irving to maintain a sense of steadiness while at sea, to compartmentalize; even if he were to set aside his faith, there are simply certain habits that might be overlooked, tolerated even, while on land, that are much less forgivable for a man to bring with him aboard his ship.
And while on land, well, it's easier still to avoid such temptations than while trapped together in close quarters with other men for months and years, alternative ways aplenty for Irving to keep his thoughts and his body occupied on things other than the indulgence of desires he should not even be harboring--
Easier, with no influence of aphrodisiacs taking him over suddenly and without warning, commanding his hormones and his body beyond his brain's own ability to. Since he's been in Duplicity it's like a cage door has been left unlocked on some dangerous, hungry creature that's always resented being held back, something that's just tasted blood, and wants to eat and eat now that it knows what it's like to finally be fed, to feel full for the first time.
Something like this is very different for Irving, and even drunk as he is he can recognize that; it's one thing to justify his behavior the other times while he, while they both, have been under the influence, but touching another man like this in public, in a way that's just a step or two past platonic or plausibly deniable; being touched back in that soft and careful manner, just a brush along his wrist; small and simple intimacies most people likely take for granted that he now, suddenly, feels unreasonably greedy for.
He speaks finally, slowly, emboldened by the whiskey but perhaps also by Jack himself: ]
Perhaps what I mean to say is... I may still want for other things. From you. [ A beat. ] Things that are not love.
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Strangely enough, it's always been easier for Irving to maintain a sense of steadiness while at sea, to compartmentalize; even if he were to set aside his faith, there are simply certain habits that might be overlooked, tolerated even, while on land, that are much less forgivable for a man to bring with him aboard his ship.
And while on land, well, it's easier still to avoid such temptations than while trapped together in close quarters with other men for months and years, alternative ways aplenty for Irving to keep his thoughts and his body occupied on things other than the indulgence of desires he should not even be harboring--
Easier, with no influence of aphrodisiacs taking him over suddenly and without warning, commanding his hormones and his body beyond his brain's own ability to. Since he's been in Duplicity it's like a cage door has been left unlocked on some dangerous, hungry creature that's always resented being held back, something that's just tasted blood, and wants to eat and eat now that it knows what it's like to finally be fed, to feel full for the first time.
Something like this is very different for Irving, and even drunk as he is he can recognize that; it's one thing to justify his behavior the other times while he, while they both, have been under the influence, but touching another man like this in public, in a way that's just a step or two past platonic or plausibly deniable; being touched back in that soft and careful manner, just a brush along his wrist; small and simple intimacies most people likely take for granted that he now, suddenly, feels unreasonably greedy for.
He speaks finally, slowly, emboldened by the whiskey but perhaps also by Jack himself: ]
Perhaps what I mean to say is... I may still want for other things. From you. [ A beat. ] Things that are not love.