Is that why he's angry? Maybe. Is he going to divulge that to this worm? Over his dead fucking body. Edward can and will and has fucked whomever he likes. Israel's feelings about the matter aren't a factor. His job, his purpose is to keep his captain content and safe, come Hell or high water. He will always work towards that goal, even if Edward doesn't agree with his methods. At any cost. This crew would do well to take note.
"I am angry because I am tired, and you have nothing better to do than unravel the hem of my jumper," he says and leans in that little bit closer. So close it's intimate. They are well and truly alone and the possibilities are endless. What a shame his blade is in his bunk.
"If you want to die, Mr. Spriggs, I would be more than happy to oblige. All you need to do is ask. But I don't think you do, and I don't think this is all you are. Respect has to be earned. It's work, which you know fuck all about and might be half good at if you tried."
“And what do you think would happen if you killed me? Think Blackbeard would keep you around after you got rid of his boyfriend’s right hand man and personal confidante? He seems like he’s starting to have just about enough of you, Izzy.” The grin is back, looking down at Izzy with all the smugness he can muster. God, he’s so glad he’s tall in moment like this, makes looking down at the angry little man all the more dramatic.
Lucius leans back against the wall, wriggling a little to get comfortable under the press of Izzy’s body. “Do you actually think I’m cute?”
It earns a small snarl but Izzy won't give him the satisfaction of turning the narrative of this discourse.
"You're a pet, Lucius." Seeing as they're using first names and he's tired enough to leave his own rules for a beat.
"Blackbeard doesn't give a wild shit about Bonnet's pets," said as he moves his hand from the other man's neck to toy with the piece of tartan tied around it.
"Wearing pretty little bows like a pussycat. We don't allow pets on ships. And besides, I'm sure you're aware that we're alone. If you went missing no one would know the hows and whys. It's just one less whiny, lazy mouth to feed."
“I’d rather be a pet than a goddamn limpet. People love pets, you’re a fucking parasite.”
Lucius rolls his eyes. Look who still can’t keep his hands off him. He closes his eyes, leaning his head towards Izzy’s hand like the good kitty he is.
“Pete knows we’re in here together, wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who was with me last. Do you think any of this through, Izzy?”
"No one important would care. And if I came in here to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Which should be obvious. His grace has gone unappreciated.
A parasite, though. He'll remember that. From where he's standing, a parasite is something that attaches itself to a host, sucks up whatever it wants, and doesn't contribute. So if we're throwing stones...
The exchange has reached a point where talking more will only make it worse. There may come a larger, more final confrontation but this isn't it.
"Quite frankly, I have more important things to be doing than wasting my breath on you."
He lets go and takes a step back, rolling the belt around his gloved hand. Lucius has gotten the reaction he was apparently after. The game ends now.
"I suggest you go to sleep, Mr. Spriggs. I'll see to it you have a very long, very early day tomorrow."
“What did you come in here to do, then?” Lucius pouts, eyeing that belt in Izzy’s hand. Just come in brandishing that thing around and not even doing anything with it, what a tease.
“If you’re leaving, can you send Pete back in? We didn’t exactly get to finish before.”
If Izzy could roll his eyes any harder they would fall out of his head.
He gives a disgusted, long suffering noise and grabs Lucius again, this time with the intention of frog marching him out of the ballroom. What a waste of space this room is.
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"I am angry because I am tired, and you have nothing better to do than unravel the hem of my jumper," he says and leans in that little bit closer. So close it's intimate. They are well and truly alone and the possibilities are endless. What a shame his blade is in his bunk.
"If you want to die, Mr. Spriggs, I would be more than happy to oblige. All you need to do is ask. But I don't think you do, and I don't think this is all you are. Respect has to be earned. It's work, which you know fuck all about and might be half good at if you tried."
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Lucius leans back against the wall, wriggling a little to get comfortable under the press of Izzy’s body. “Do you actually think I’m cute?”
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"You're a pet, Lucius." Seeing as they're using first names and he's tired enough to leave his own rules for a beat.
"Blackbeard doesn't give a wild shit about Bonnet's pets," said as he moves his hand from the other man's neck to toy with the piece of tartan tied around it.
"Wearing pretty little bows like a pussycat. We don't allow pets on ships. And besides, I'm sure you're aware that we're alone. If you went missing no one would know the hows and whys. It's just one less whiny, lazy mouth to feed."
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Lucius rolls his eyes. Look who still can’t keep his hands off him. He closes his eyes, leaning his head towards Izzy’s hand like the good kitty he is.
“Pete knows we’re in here together, wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who was with me last. Do you think any of this through, Izzy?”
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Which should be obvious. His grace has gone unappreciated.
A parasite, though. He'll remember that. From where he's standing, a parasite is something that attaches itself to a host, sucks up whatever it wants, and doesn't contribute. So if we're throwing stones...
The exchange has reached a point where talking more will only make it worse. There may come a larger, more final confrontation but this isn't it.
"Quite frankly, I have more important things to be doing than wasting my breath on you."
He lets go and takes a step back, rolling the belt around his gloved hand. Lucius has gotten the reaction he was apparently after. The game ends now.
"I suggest you go to sleep, Mr. Spriggs. I'll see to it you have a very long, very early day tomorrow."
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“If you’re leaving, can you send Pete back in? We didn’t exactly get to finish before.”
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He gives a disgusted, long suffering noise and grabs Lucius again, this time with the intention of frog marching him out of the ballroom. What a waste of space this room is.
"Out! Get out, you're done in here."
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“Why, where are you taking me, Mr. Hands?”