Ooo Oo

Pspspspsppspspspspspspsp come here jacko pspspspspspspspspspspspspsp

Oooo aaa oooa aa *toward you*

drbestsir

(Gives you some blubber) Good monke :)

Meowww … ^.^

#terror rp

Pspspspsppspspspspspspsp come here jacko pspspspspspspspspspspspspsp

Oooo aaa oooa aa *toward you*

#terror rp #inbox

sirjohnfranklin

Hashtag missing my monkey

Hullo papa!

#terror rp #the terror

@franciscrozierofficial here, sir. What was it you wanted to talk to me about, sir?

>he looks normal, which is to say smiley, relaxed, and well-put together. If one was expecting fear, or apprehension, or maybe anger, or any other type of negative emotion, there appears to be none. Just his eyebrows raised, a slight smile, hands neatly held behind his back. Look! I'm being a Very Good Dog

*Crozier is standing, back to the door, wearing his slops and messy hair— clearly just got up out of bed. But his posture is rigid and one arm is braced behind his back, mirroring civility. His jaw is clenched very tightly.*

Lieutenant. I am not one to mince words.

*turns around. Eyes frozen in a glare.*

What exactly were your thoughts when you, rhetorically, asked my steward… “You think you can just say no to me?”

>eeeeasy easy smile

Captain, it's just a mere insistence on hierarchy, sir 😉 I'm a lieutenant, and he's a steward. I'm higher in command, sir. By all means he has to follow my orders, just as I have to follow yours. Wouldn't it be against the Articles to allow him exemption to this rule? You know this; your very good at your job 🥰

*clenches fist*

And what order were you giving Mr. Jopson, pray tell?

I had thought you were having a personal conversation about your off-work… affiliation. Or am I wrong, lieutenant?

*trying so fucking hard to keep his cool. Anger is bubbling below the surface of every syllable.*

>still with that insufferable smile and no sense of danger or apprehension about him at all (but his eyes are a little wide, a little too fixed on Crozier)

It was a personal conversation, sir. Concerning certain... off-work affiliations that have been... of less than desirable to either of us. Not that that is anythin we should be discussin, sir, considerin they're, as you said, off-work. Are you askin after my private life, Captain?

*slowly, through gritted teeth*

I am asking about the health and well-being of my steward, Mr. Le Vesconte. Because if I didn’t know better—

*stepping close, lowering his voice to a dangerous level*

— I would have said there was a threat implied in that personal conversation.

>gaze still fixed on him, unwavering, though his hands do tighten on each other behind his back

the only threats made in that statement were the ones you're seeking out due to a certain overprotectiveness towards your inferiors, sir. 🥰now, just askin' outta' curiosity's sake, if there was a threat, sir, not that there was, what would you do about it? trouble w me certainly means trouble w captain fitzjamie, n then maybe even sir john, if the situation is dire enough

>could it actually be?? does dundy actually think he's untouchable??

*turns away, for a second, as if he’s going to give it up— then he’s grabbing Dundy by his collar and shoving him against the door, using the surprise and the momentum to do most of the work. He leans in close, eyes full of fire*

You listen to me, Mr. Le Vesconte.

I love that man. I love him.

If he chose to take a tumble with you, or any other ungrateful slime of an officer on this godforsaken expedition, I would respect it. It would be his right. To CHOOSE, if, when, and with whom he engages with.

… if I get one more whiff of you taking away his— or any other of my crew’s— choice in personal matters…

*jostles Dundy against the door again for emphasis. Breathes out in a humorless chuckle. Face tight with rage.*

I don’t give a damn who your friends in high places are. We are on the ice, boy. We are alone. …Your so-called friends aren’t worth a damn in this damned place.

>dundy coughs, taking in a gasp as crozier pins him up against the door, and as he takes the brunt of the captain's weight, his eyes blow wide, heat crawling into his cheeks, his hands folding into fists. he gets that big nervous wolf's smile on his face, choking in a breath, then another, breathing hard

a-ah, captain, but w-we are still subjects under the admiralty's employment, sir. we are s-still at our posts, sir. all we have is hierarchy. there is no right to choose, s-sir

>he forces himself to meet crozier's glare, matching it almost defiantly, raising his eyebrows, his smile still so big and wide as he presses his palms against the door he's pressed up against

*listening to him, Crozier’s face twists into a snarl. His voice is quiet, controlled the same way an avalanche is “controlled”.*

That is where you are wrong, lad. As captain of this ship and this crew— you included… I have a right to choose.

*His hands slide over Dundy’s collar to his throat, tightening experimentally. His voice lowers to a whisper, sliding forward to speak directly into Dundy’s ear.*

I can choose whether to go by the book and punish you for abuse of power… or strangle you right now, like the runtish pup you are… or send you scurrying back to Erebus with your tail between your legs.

*retracts his hands from Dundy’s neck but still holds him against the door. He smiles like it makes him sick.*

Now, the choice is yours. But either way… lieutenant… you will never be allowed alone with my steward again. Do you understand?

>dundy's trying to have this conversation as normally as is possible and you know. win this. figure out how to get himself upwind of this whole situation and fire full broadsides into this and sink this fucker, but the second crozier's hands are on his throat it's over. control goes out the window, the wind dies in his sails, and his legs go weak as he goes hot all over. he barely hears the words 'runtish pup,' doesn't even register the rest of what crozier's saying or that he's pulled his hands off his throat, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's already spoken the words

nnnnngod if youwanteddto fuccck me so b-badly youcouodlve jusot asked

*Croizer pauses, head pulling back minutely. He’s caught off guard. Then he glances down, once, at Dundy’s trousers. Flicks his eyes back up with a new understanding. He sneers, humorlessly. He pushes off the lieutenant and takes a step back, pointing at the door. Growling.*

Get the hell off my ship.

make me, mr. right to choose

*a cruel gleam in his eye. That’s the only warning before he lunges forward and grabs Dundy roughly by the cravat, yanking him close. While Dundy is distracted, he kicks open the door behind them. Pulls the other man’s cravat taught in a fist and starts dragging him out of the cabin like a dog on a leash.*

Come, Dundy. It’s your superior officer speaking. Heel. Come on.

*He walks firmly and quickly forward, tugging Dundy behind him, weathered sailor’s hands giving no quarter on the makeshift chokehold. Brushing past Jopson in the hall, he spares only a passing eyebrow raise (“THIS is the man you would have left me for?”)*

>he'll let himself be dragged UNTIL he gets to anywhere public where he'll try and pull away for his dignity, then, if he's allowed, slink away. but he'll still give crozier a salute, then a nod, as if this was just a normal, respectful conversation, and then he'll walk back to erebus, going over everything in his head like it's all just warfare, like it's not personal, like this won't keep him up at night, like this wasn't one of the biggest L's on his stupid useless tallyboard