The Doctor

license required

:: Jack felt the heat of the brandy slide down his throat. Quite the improvement from the cold steel of Armand's sword. He smiled appreciatively as he handed the flask back to Tempest :: Truth, and my perceptions thereof? Now there's a fine bit of irony... Let us begin with the good monsieur, shall we? While playing the part of faithful manservant, he always struck me as a bit too capable, savvy? I would expect him to know his way around a Surgery, as he obviously does. But where he aquitted himself unexpectedly well was in times of action. Any other time, he seems uncomfortable in his own skin. But with a weapon in his hand, shoulder to shoulder with the crew - a wholly different man. :: Jack rubs his neck where Armand's sword tip had been, and looks at the bit of blood on his fingers from the small wound :: Obviously well-trained, and quite formidable. The fact that he is never voluntarily more than 3 strides from you at any given moment speaks of keen attention to duty. Again, not totally unheard of for a manservant, but rather unusual. :: Jack looks Armand in the eye, and regards him respectfully:: I do not know what your debt is to our fine Surgeon, monsieur. And it is not my place to know nor ask. But we are crewmates. And when the time comes that we must stand together and fight, know that I shall stand with you to the end. :: He turns back to the Doctor, and furrows his brow :: You, Dr. Fitzgerald, are the enigma of the ship. The Gatekeeper of Secrets, mine included. You know the shrouded truths kept by everyone within this Ward, not counting your own. And your mysteries run very deep, indeed. You were the one instrumental in the negotiate return of the stolen French cutter, and it had bloody little to do with your nation of origin, I'll be bound. It is customary on any naval vessel that the commanding officer and the chief physician have a close rapport. Our Captain, I'm certain, is no different in his adherance to that tradition. But he is also a man of secrets, as one might expect. So it is no great leap of logic to surmise that you know more about the motivations and intentions of our commander than does the Quartermaster. Your agility with a fighting blade is also worth the raise of an eyebrow. I haven't got that one quite sussed as yet, but it does speak to a privileged upbringing. As for myself... I find myself praying that we run across the Fortunato. If that blinkard Phillistine of a Quartermaster had but asked the question "Sir, is it your intent to go a-pyrating?", I would have burned our papers, spat upon my hands, and hoisted the Black Ensign. I have given too much... too much, I say, for "King and Country." And if we should meet up with her, and that bastard... what is his damned name? "Carlisle"! Daniel Carlisle! I shall take great delight in hanging his severed head from our bowsprit. I was given no chance, no chance at all, to make my wishes known. They comandeered the ship, and only as they were putting me over the side did they tell me that they had murdered the Surgeon, Navigator, and First Mate. We had all discussed turning pyrate, and were to pose the question of the crew in two days time. Damn them all... I thank you, Doctor. Not only have you mended my body, but you've gone far in setting my mind to rights as well. Both of you; please know that I do not nor have I ever shared my thoughts or suspicions with anyone aboard. I have detested idle conjecture and scuttlebutt aboard any ship I have served aboard or commanded, and still do. I swear this to you both on pain of death: no word of any of this shall shall be passed by me.

My apologies, my good Doctor. Please forgive my rashness. It will not happen again. One might say that I have not been myself, as of late. I confided in you because to seem to be... :: Jack's eyes cut to Armand, then back to Dr. Fizgerald :: ... accustomed to secrecy. You have every right and reason to take what I have spoken here to the Captain, and I would not fault you for doing such. But it is a risk I have taken, whatever the outcome. I trust Armand to remain silent of this because, as my suspicions proved out, he has secrets of his own to worry with. Nous sommes les deux hommes militaires, tombés des périodes difficiles. No? Again, please accept my apologies. I promise to be more charming when next I try to gain your attentions.

:: Jack's breathing eased, with the procedure being done. He knew that the Doctor's swift and precise work would seal the damage done by our previous adversary. He felt the bit withdraw from his mouth, and he worked his jaw to dissipate the strain he exherted during the procedure. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again, with a most unexpected peacefulness in his eyes :: Doctor, please. I ask of you, there is something I must tell you... :: The Surgeon turns her gaze from the deck above, and leans close the prone Master At Arms. Without warning, he grabs her by the blouse and pulls her face close to his. He speaks quietly, and in much haste :: This is what I wish to tell you, Dear Doctor; my name... my name is Sir John Michael St. Anthony, post-Captain and commander of His Majesty's Ship the Fortunato, with a privateer's comission, in the service of the Royal Navy. My crew mutinied, wishing to go on the Account rather than share their take with the Crown. They set me adrift, left for dead, and I went mad in the heat rather than acknowledge my failure as a commander. Do you understand, and do you intend to remain silent about this matter until it is prudent? I will remain a proper Master At Arms to our Captain, as I have no further love for my King nor Country. I am no spy. I am a pyrate, through and through, my good Doctor. And I shall remain so until I draw my last breath. But I must confide this in you, to assure you that I am quite sane. I will behave no differently than before with the crew and officers, and I ask that you keep this our secret. What say you, Doctor?

:: Jack lays back against his Infirmary bunk, contemplating what might be going on above. His patience is at an end with lying about, restrained like a mad man. He smiles at that bit of irony; knowing himself that he must be, on some level, completely mad. He pretends to slumber for the space of probably an hour by the ship's bell, then, in a raspy whisper, summons the good Doctor :: Please, dear Surgeon. Draw nigh, for I have something in which to confide you...

Pad Thai

Diego, what a bloody load of crap that is! If ye ever find yourself in Minnesota, look me up. We'll go walleye fishing. The Guinness is on me! Sweet Bonnie, love, I'm so sorry to hear all that. My thoughts are with you, and know that my prayers are, too. You've got a lot of friends here, and we've got broad shoulders for you to lean on. We're here for you, whenever you need us.

You want a super-sized In-and-Out? :angry: chicken bucket

broken wind

Diego, what's up with those twits?

I feel like getting into trouble today...

Po' Boy sandwich

Talk about culinary torture... I've got a fridge full of Guinness, and I'm going to try out my own recipe for Cajun pizza tonight. Homemade Andouille sausage, sweet onions, garlic, bell peppers, and celery, topped with swiss and Gruyere cheese. :) I can't wait to get into the kitchen!

ham hocks

Durwood

:: Jack smiles disarmingly at Miss Smith, and cocks his head to the side :: Now, was that so all-fired difficult, keeping a senior officer informed? Please send my compliments to our good Captain, and my apologies for making such a fuss. The gravity of our situation is now :: half-heartedly pulling at his restraints :: inescapably clear, and ye'll not hear another peep out of me.

whipped cream

Talk to Clement. He'll take off to try and read the writings on the walls. Danielle should get impatient and do something incredibly...stupid.

payday

Oi!! Damn and confuse you all! Will no one answer me?! What goes on above?!

I've always been known as a cunning linguist...

nautical term...

"Ya, sure, you betcha!" (Minnesotan for "yes")

Aye! The ultimate personal air conditioner.

But known to his master as "Snookie". -tower- Babel