calicoat | saltburnt inbox

[ Matt wants to throw his phone into the lake over that wrong number sext to the new vampire in town. But unbeknownst to him, Alexei is not the only person this particular thirst trap has been delivered to.

The image is still Matt in his hospital bed, bare-chested with the thin sheet pulled over his hips. There's a tattoo of an emerald lotus over his heart, and another on his right hip depicting a half-monkey, half-man figure. There is also a bandage over his left side, a square of white gauze affixed with tape.

Then, the message: ]

they're letting me out today ... prognosis is a few weeks of no heavy activity

which I'm pretty sure means we're good to have sex if you're on top

<3

[ Since it isn’t Jack’s first game of horny multiverse roulette, he’s skeptical that this was actually meant for him. It's very presumptuous, even with the flowers, but he decides to play along, a little harmless flirtation to ward away the horrors. After a few minutes, Matt gets a picture of Jack from a similar angle. He has a few stick-and-poke tattoos, an anchor on his wrist and what looks like a fox low on his ribcage, and he’s lean, muscle far from gym-defined but just strong enough to get by as a career sailor. The scars all over his arms and chest make the pirate story pretty damn believable. ]

Well, aren’t you forward.

I can be gentle on request. What did the good doctor say about alcohol?

[ At this point, Matt’s starting to suspect the house has put a curse on his phone. If he threw it in the lake after all, would it mass-text nudes from the depths??

Still, he can’t argue with the results. His gaze skims the answering image with interest, lingering on scars and ink. Aren’t you forward has him feeling pleasantly warm, a crooked smile on his face. ]

Recommended to abstain for two weeks, which is really going to put a dent in my social life

For the record … no regrets, but I was trying to send you this:

[ Screenshot.png ]

which in hindsight seems about the same amount of forward. I sincerely tried my best.

Oh, recommended is nothing. He's just covering his ass.

Nice bit of gossip. Easily verifiable.

I was pleasantly surprised to get third party validation almost immediately

That’s so rare in life

Also I hope that’s true in terms of ass covering because I’m dying for a drink right about now

[ The square, boring truth is that Matt doesn’t want to risk compromising his healing when his body is his spell casting instrument. But unbeknownst to him, Armand will be offering him vampire healing in the near future. Yaaaay! ]

Grace is a godsend. We were neighbors, some time ago.

What do you like? I'll bring you something. Can't have you straining yourself journeying down to the kitchens.

[ Oh … they both really like each other. That’s so cute. ]

Im pretty easy [ No, really? ] Wine, beer, gin, rum, anything in the bourbon/whiskey/scotch zone

As long as you’re drinking too

[ Jack would kill for her. As pirates go, he's more of a diplomat, but she's special. ]

Gin is for the English.

I'll find a bottle of anything else, so long as the intended recipient of your lovely little tease hasn't swept you away already.

I remain unswept

[ Matt follows up with some brief attempts at navigational guidance. He’s currently on one of the manor’s numerous patios rather than the clinic or his own bedroom, the latter of which he’s been avoiding. ]

That won’t do. See you soon.

[ And he does, Jack’s a fairly good navigator even on land, so even though he doesn’t feel entirely like he’s got the hang of this place yet, he finds Matt just fine, on a balcony overlooking the gardens. Cozy. ]

Mr. Jamison. Is that Irish?

[ Pulling up a seat beside him, a bottle of scotch in his hand that he leaves on an unnecessarily ornate outdoor table. He looks him over, appraising, curious, eyes lingering on the spot where he knows he’s been wounded, thanks to the photo. ]

How are you feeling, now that the drugs have worn off?

[ Matt waves gently as he approaches, likewise giving a curious once-over. His is a bit more on the appreciative end of the spectrum, however. One might reasonably expect discomfort or awkwardness from the sender of an inadvertent thirst trap, but you know, Jack sent one back. ]

Mr. Rackham. [ Also, Matt's incapable of sounding serious while addressing anyone as mister. ] It's originally Irish, yeah. My family's an American success story--made a lot of money really fast in the late 1800s.

[ Suspiciously fast, some might say. ]

I'm in more pain without the drugs, but mostly okay. [ A small smile, as he reaches out to inspect the bottle. ] People kept insisting I was gonna say something I'd regret, but here on the other side I feel pretty good.

How are you?

Are they? [ Eyebrows shooting up playfully. ] You should be careful who you say that to. Pirates might be tempted to take you for ransom.

[ With a wink, but it doesn’t make it bad advice. He’s just got a feeling that the Balfours won’t be willing to pay up. ]

I’m adjusting about as well as can be expected, I suppose. Exploring the manor, over-indulging, arguing with idiots on the network. Haven’t been stabbed or punched in the nose yet, so I’m doing alright for myself.

I think I have space in my schedule for a pirate kidnapping, [ Matt says, answering the wink with a quick grin before he turns his attentions to uncapping the bottle. Available evidence suggests Matt's family wouldn't pay up either, but why ruin a perfectly good kidnapped-by-pirates moment with reality?

Instead, he pulls a face of mock dismay as he lifts the bottle to his lips. ]

Glad to hear there's no stabbing epidemic going around, I guess. [ Matt holds out the scotch for Jack to take if he'd like it. ] There's apparently a whole little contingent of us here. On the one hand it's nice to have company, but on the other, shitty club.

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