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Jack Eaves
Loki incarnate. Devious, charming and talented. [quote]It's still us against them.[/quote]
0 · 430 views · located in 
Hidden Cove
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by CptxMorgan
Groups
Description
His general attire tends to consist of the flashiest clothing he can get his hands on, even if the situation calls for formality. He stands around 6'3 with ear length reddish hair and a cleanshaven face. Is in apparently remarkable shape.
Personality
A bit of a dick, completely obnoxious. Frequent user of cocaine. Unashamedly perverted, and outwardly arrogant.
History
Fuckin' pirate.
So begins...
Jack Eaves's Story
- Seen 37 Times • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
“
((Code Blue?))
”
Jack Eaves grimaced as he walked through Gambit's doors. The man despised bars in the multiverse, always polluted with nonhuman scum that seemed to carry a particular odor. Masking his disgust, Jack simply made his way to the least populated corner of the room. The less he was bothered, the better, although he did find himself hoping there would be some sort of service. A drink would have been nice, something to distract him from the surely momentous workload his current employer had planned. "Fucking small town politicians, whiny bastards thinking they're so damn important" Jack muttered under his breath as he removed his overly large sunglasses and set them on the booth table.
Jack Eaves let himself get at least relatively comfortable. No one had approached him for the time being, but of course that could change at any given time. Lounging was one of Jack's specialties, comfort was always priority numero uno, and even in a dive bar such as Gambit's the man had found a way to relax. "Now, about those ads." He sighed inwardly, a small sneer forming on his visage at the thought. Sure, Jack was what he considered a master spindoctor, but getting a convicted sex offender into office with little to no funding was going to be more of a headache than it was worth. It didn't help that the opposing parties were all saints, or at least according to their records. Jack would likely have to create some dirt, invite them to a dinner, get them to reveal something and continue to dig for secrets after he got the foundation.
Jack Eaves strode into the bar, jutting his hips out like a bitch in heat. He was feeling it tonight, sure it was probably the three or four lines of cocaine he'd forced into his nasal cavities twenty minutes beforehand, but regardless he was feeling it. With an overly audible sigh, Jackie made his way towards the bar strutting in a fashion somewhat akin to a model on a catwalk. His hands were angled so his fingers stuck out in front of him, protruding from his waist like two separate sets of horns, the silver nails emphasizing the effect. With a flip of his hair, and a graceful shrug he removed his fur lined jacket, spreading it onto the bar stool before taking a seat. Sure Gambit's wasn't the best place to find a client, but Jack was desperate and his money from the fluke campaign a few months back was dwindling before his eyes. Excess was a dirty, home-wrecking whore.
Jack Eaves strode into the bar, jutting his hips out like a bitch in heat. He was feeling it tonight, sure it was probably the three or four lines of cocaine he'd forced into his nasal cavities twenty minutes beforehand, but regardless he was feeling it. With an overly audible sigh, Jackie made his way towards the bar strutting in a fashion somewhat akin to a model on a catwalk. His hands were angled so his fingers stuck out in front of him, protruding from his waist like two separate sets of horns, the silver nails emphasizing the effect. With a flip of his hair, and a graceful shrug he removed his fur lined jacket, spreading it onto the bar stool before taking a seat. Sure Gambit's wasn't the best place to find a client, but Jack was desperate and his money from the fluke campaign a few months back was dwindling before his eyes. Excess was a dirty, home-wrecking whore. (Gonna try this one again.)
Jack Eaves shot Veronica a glance, and let a playful smile encompass his noticeably soft lips. "Well aren't you a stuck up bitch." His voice was simultaneously cool and snappy, when one worked with politicians for any length of time they learned how to contain their emotions. Even when the person in question was as visibly flamboyant as Jack. "Can I get a dry martini over here?" He motioned to the bartender with his right hand, eyes still set on the woman who insulted him.
Jack Eaves cocked an eyebrow and tossed a few coins of indeterminate nature in the direction of the bartender as he delivered the martini. "Honey, last time I checked we were in a bar, I'm pretty sure language isn't an issue here." The statement was followed by a playful wink before Jack turned to his martini and took a light sip before stirring it with his finger.
Jack Eaves found himself grinning despite himself as he strode into Gambit's. He was dressed the thrill, wearing a Gucci suit and a pair of over-sized aviators. Jack's pants are what really stuck out, a deep forest green color and held in place by a plain brown belt. His footfalls were quick and quiet as he strode towards the bar. "Yes, I'd like a gin." Jack all but hissed, feeling the need to ham it up. He was already dressed like an agent of Lucifer, may as well play the part. "Actually, make that a Bloody Mary." The man shrugged, blowing a lock of red hair away from his nose.
Jack Eaves scratched his cheek, his shades veiled gaze falling upon Nick. He cocked an eyebrow and took an uninterested sip of his recently retrieved beverage. "Why? She a hooker that got a little too bitey?" Jack cackled, still standing by the bar, hand wrapped loosely around his Bloody Mary. "I believe she's over there." He pointed a finger at Lory after she already revealed herself. "Does this mean I get the reward or am I too-" Jack found himself rudely interrupted by the man's spontaneous gunfire. "Fighting in a bar, how barbaric." He sighed inwardly, the words hardly audible over the establishment's typical noise.
Jack Eaves brought the Bloody Mary to his lips, letting the glass linger there for a moment before tipping it. The liquid made it's way out of it's original vessel and down his throat, surely fearing the inevitable digestion ahead. Jack on the other hand was quite content, despite avoiding Gambit's for as long as he could remember, the man found it relatively entertaining.
Deciding he'd spent enough time spectating, the self proclaimed (doubtfully so) god threw his now empty glass in Nick's direction. Maybe it was spontaneous, maybe it was his fondness of the fairer sex, or maybe it was just an ever-present need to interject himself into situations where he wasn't wanted. Either way, Jack waited to see the results of his actions, remaining silent, but hardly stoic, a wolfish grin playing from cheek to cheek.
Deciding he'd spent enough time spectating, the self proclaimed (doubtfully so) god threw his now empty glass in Nick's direction. Maybe it was spontaneous, maybe it was his fondness of the fairer sex, or maybe it was just an ever-present need to interject himself into situations where he wasn't wanted. Either way, Jack waited to see the results of his actions, remaining silent, but hardly stoic, a wolfish grin playing from cheek to cheek.
Jack Eaves was offended, quite frankly. His proverbial gauntlet smack ignored due to some wannabe immortal leech? With an exaggerated sigh he clambered over the bar, absolutely adoring how complicated the situation had become. As far as he could tell there were four players including himself, yet he did not doubt that there was at least another vampire in the bar that would come to the female's aid. Jack didn't make any outward actions once he was on the other side, he simply stood in what had become a rather cramped service area.
"So, are we having fun yet?" The man tittered, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.
"So, are we having fun yet?" The man tittered, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.
Jack Eaves was lucky enough to find himself in between both Lory and Nick. With surprising speed, his arm darted out in an attempt to stop both the vampire and her hostage from colliding with the hunter. It was to be done in a clothesline-esque fashion, and he was more concerned with catching Lory than Lee. In all honesty, the man was curious as to what the hunter was doing, with his hand to the wall and all that jazz. "Not so fast miss."
Jack Eaves pouted, at least as much as a grown man could pout. He was rather curious as to what was going to happen if the hunter wasn't interrupted, but alas it seemed as if Jack wasn't going to be able to find out. With a shrug he simply walked through the chaos, bringing a bottle of choice liquor with him back to his seat. At least Jack got something out of the momentary quarrel, even if it was only vodka.
Jack Eaves didn't enjoy great dark fires, and the vague, yet pungent scent of brimstone. No, he was far too elusive for that, let the other gods force their presence on the mortal world, Jack rather enjoyed working behind the scenes. Due to this, his entrance into what appeared to be an overly saturated mortal establishment was a subtle one, he simply strolled through Gambit's doors and made for the bar. First, he figured, he'd order himself a nice, dry drink. "Can I get a martini? A real martini mind you, not that half assed filth you no doubt serve the other patrons of your fine place of business." Despite making his order into a half formed rant, Jack's words were spoken with an irrefutable grace and he had no doubt the bartender would obey. Satisfied, he turned his back to the counter-top and set his gaze upon the rest of the establishment, objective observation was in his job profile.
Jack Eaves sipped his newly made beverage, resisting the urge to spit it up on contact with his tongue. In all honesty, it wasn't awful, nor was it good. Deciding that he could make his point another day, Jack stomached the drink and strolled towards the nearest empty table. Upon taking a seat, he pulled what looked to be a hand rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket. It was a crude thing, with strips of tobacco worming out from both sides, for all of his charisma, Jack was awful with his hands. Lighting it, he propped one of his legs on each side of the table, allowing himself to lounge as comfortably as possible in a crowded bar.
“
++96-*3
”
Jack Eaves found himself rubbing his nostrils incessantly with the thumb of his right hand. He couldn't place if the itch was the effect of the humidity or the lines he'd bombed out a few minutes earlier in the alleyway.
Jack Eaves shook his head as he took a seat by the bar, slamming his hand on the counter three or four times before the bartender addressed him. "I'd like a Tom Collins, don't skimp on the gin or I'll have your fat fucking head." Jack snarled, not necessarily irritated, just feeling a need to flaunt his superiority. With that, he conjured a thin, unfiltered cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with a small bic he kept in his sleeve. Sure, the parlour trick was pointless, but he found it easier than scrounging around his pockets for his pack.
Jack Eaves dragged his cigarette, remaining entirely unaware of a small stream of blood that found itself snaking down his nose and onto his lips. It was a nuisance he'd learned to ignore years earlier. In fact, he only took notice of it when the end of his cigarette appeared to be harboring a rather blatant sanguine stain. With an exasperated sigh he brought the sleeve of his shirt to his mouth and did his best to clean whatever remained. Conveniently enough, his drink arrived just as he'd finished his attempt at damage control. "Stiff, just how I like them." Jack remarked after his first sip, remaining pleasantly unaware of the innuendo until it was far too late. Cursing himself silently, he took another sip and dragged blood tinged cigarette.
Jack Eaves entered the bar in a quiet fashion, foregoing his atypical aplomb for a simple push of the door and a few soft footfalls. The man made a beeline for the back of the bar, slipping into one of the few vacant booths. Upon seating himself, Jack found himself scratching the underside of his table. It was a frantic, yet unnoticeable tick, the calling card of a man who was fiending for some drug or another. After a few moments of inner monologue, and introspective debate, the flamboyantly garbed addict found himself laying a small mound of powder in front of him. With the delicateness of an artist at work, Mr Eaves turned that albino anthill into 3 fine white lines. The following snorts were muffled by ambient noise, chatter, whoops and all other aural sensations one was assaulted by while loitering inside a popular bar. The radiant smile that followed, however, was unlikely to be veiled by anything within that decadent establishment.
- Seen 37 Times • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2