Confessions Of A Medium-Aged Procrastination Queen

In close contact, it was easier to see the severity in Elizabeth's expression beneath the thin black lace of her mask. "The Captain is yet another widowed suitor, Eve. A considerably wealthier one than usual, but a suitor all the same."

Comprehension fell in layers as her conversation with the Captain returned to her, of the distinct glee on her uncle's face. Of course this was by design. By his design.

And how had she not noticed? Burwell had quite obviously been paying court. Worse even, she'd seemed entirely too receptive to his attentions. Discussing travel, showing enthusiasm for their dance, and God above... she had touched him. Far more familiar a gesture than what was suited to a first meeting.

But it hadn't felt like a first meeting. She'd felt she knew him already by virtue of his long history with her uncle. Still, what a coquette she must have seemed to all who witnessed it. All who already knew the man's intent.

"There's more," Elizabeth said.

"My sister just has a talent for making questionable friends. She – " North trailed off, eyeing the recorder in Jack's hand.

Jack stopped recording and slipped it in his pocket. "No worries," he assured him. "That wasn't on the record. Families are off limits."

North nodded with an appreciative grimace and returned his attention to the spectacle. "I don't know why I continue to be shocked by what she gets up to these days," he sighed. "My shock only tends to encourage her."

Jack considered that. How long had it been since Eddie Stone died? Couldn't have been too long. "I obviously can't speak for her," Jack offered, "but I know when my dad passed, I was roughly that age, and I did some really stupid shit."

North turned back to him, eyes narrowed. "What magazine did you say you were from? STATIC Magazine?"

Fuck.

"Eliza," he said to the blonde. "Didn't STATIC Magazine get sold?"

"Hostile takeover," Jack insisted.

Before Jack could react, North had his press badge in hand, yanking him forward uncomfortably by the lanyard.

"STATIC Online, is it?"

"Yes, well..." was all Jack could muster.

North continued. "Eliza, make a note of Mr. Spear here, as well as his editor Laurence Bartlett." He pulled the badge toward her, and Jack had to adjust his footing to avoid toppling.

Eliza raised her brows at him, thumbs moving across the keyboard of her device. She shot a smirk at Babyface Tucker who looked over her shoulder at whatever she'd typed and returned her look.

Weren't they adorable.

When North seemed satisfied she had seen enough, he let the badge fall back to Jack's chest.

"Mr. Spear," he went on, "If you wish to have any access to my artists in the future, I trust that I'll see none of this conversation online tomorrow. And you might consider representing yourself honestly in the future if you hope to keep your credentials. Do I make myself clear?"