attitude | wake me up, I'm about to give it up

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james norrington

wake me up, I'm about to give it up

People made a big deal out of the clothes box, and Faye couldn't understand why. Or, perhaps that wasn't entirely accurate. That a box could provide an unlimited amount of clothing was certainly interesting, downright near creepy for anyone who hadn't encountered magic before (and Faye was in that number, as weird as that felt to say). But most people didn't bother with that. Most people were taken instead by the sense of humor that the box had, coughing up outfits that were anything but appropriate— some too dowdy, others reminders of pasts that nobody was fully able to escape. The latter bit didn't bother Faye, really. People were like that. People were inconsiderate, selfish, weak, soft, and just about any other insult that she could throw, and they were that on a regular basis, kindness being somewhat of an exception. That the box took after people was strange, but nothing more than that.

Which was what brought her to the laundry room that morning.

Sliding to her knees, Faye tucked her hair behind an ear as she reached in, the tiniest of smirks on her lips before she closed her eyes and pulled the first thing out that she felt. A peek from the corner of her eye told her that it was bright. A searing orange. Opening her eyes all the way, Faye found that what she was holding onto was a pair of shorts. Hot pants.

Basically, an outfit precisely like the one she wore, baring too much (or not enough, to those who thought her a tease), but in a different hue. Faye laughed, holding it up to herself, amazed.

"Guess somebody out there likes me."

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Norrington had actually had several encounters with the clothing box and all with some dubious amount of success. He had clothing to wear that was reasonably similar to the attire of other men on the island and clean, but the patterns of his shirts left some to be desired. They were all bright, garish things and a few of them incorporated pineapples within the motif. Highly suspect.

It was this never-ending quest to get something suitable that brought him to the clothes box today, clearing his throat awkwardly when he saw Miss Valentine holding up some type of undergarment. First Ms. Potts, now Miss Valentine? Soon, Miss Burke would be among their number, wouldn't she?

"Really, what is the issue with this box and its fixation on women's underthings? Some things are best left to private."

The voice which sounded from the doorway was immediately familiar. Oh, Navy Boy. With a smile, she half-turned on her heel to send him a glance; his tone had made it clear enough that he was none too pleased with the box, and her eyes briefly grazed over his pants, as though wondering if James had needed to resort to some women's underthings. Why else, after all, would he complain? Laughing likely at the thought, Faye stood up to reveal what she wore, slightly less than usual for the way the red jacket was a bit too heavy for island weather.

"These aren't underthings, they're shorts," Faye explained with a grin, holding up the bright orange pants and holding them to her hips. "Exactly the type that I like to wear, actually."

A teasing look flickered up toward the man. "You should have known better with me, really. Haven't you already seen me wearing less?"

"That was, I assume, some sort of bathing costume," Norrington said primly, stepping a little closer to examine the shorts in more detail. Impossibly brief and in a garish color that Norrington was fairly certain did not occur in nature.

"I also assumed that once you found your bearings you would seek out more appropriate attire, Miss Valentine. It seems you are embracing the box's more ludicrous side instead of being prudent."

He did smile, though, as he held no ill will toward her. Clothes were clothes and did nothing but gild the lily, as it was; the real truth of what type of person she was could only be determined through talking with her.

The words grated a little, even if Faye completely acknowledged the fact that the statement was just a result of his time and particular upbringing. Things had been different too, when she had her proper life back in Singapore, the entire world reliant on government, on structure, trying so hard to keep order in the world that people could be fined for failing to cross the street at the wrong point. Expanding to three separate planets, that made it difficult, made the delays even greater, until people had decided to start taking justice into their own hands for renown and profit.

But on the island, 2011 didn't seem to be too far off of an estimate. James needed to know that, too.

"Not prudent?" Faye grinned, before the expression faded into one of nonchalance; the idea that she had to stick to the prudent and couldn't handle herself otherwise was amusing at best, but all the explanation she'd have to give, well, perhaps it wasn't worth it. "James, sweetie, are you worried about how well I can protect my tiny, fragile self? I have the feeling, actually, that I could probably take you in a fight. One that you would never agree to, of course."

She stretched before going on. "That's the problem with you men. Always thinking that you need to shield us somehow, which only makes us weaker in the end because we never learn to fend for ourselves. Demeaning and impractical. I grew out of accepting that kind of help long ago. It never got me anywhere."

"I never said a woman couldn't fight," Norrington said primly, reaching into the box and pulling out another pair of the impossibly-brief shorts, this time pink. "In fact, one of the best swordsmen I've ever seen was a pirate named Anamaria. She was very much a woman."

Not to mention Elizabeth, who learned quickly. Very quickly.

"I just think that there's nothing wrong with...with allowing a man to show his concern and affection. I feel like you women, you meaning modern women all together, you seem to think it's a bad thing to be courteous, or something. Is that how you feel, Miss Valentine?"

No, she immediately replied mentally. It wasn't that she had anything against courtesy. If anything, chivalry was more likely to charm her than anything else, and she thought of Gren then, his sad eyes and warm smile, the way that he'd opened up his apartment to her. He was just about the only person she could remember having met as of late who made those kind of considerations for her, just by virtue of Faye being a woman, and who hadn't broken that chivalry in the end. Wasn't even interested in her that way at all, or in much that she had to offer, aside from being a good conversation partner.

But people like him were rare. Her lips thinned for a moment. "Not quite," she said. "I just feel that honesty's the best policy. And the easiest to follow. If a man's sincerely wanting to bend heads over heels for me as me, and not just random woman X, I could be persuaded."

Her expression relaxed into one more eager. "But showing a man's concern and affection, huh? Not in love with me already, are you?" she teased.

"Hardly," Norrington said, smirk playing at his mouth. "My fondness for you has nothing to do with love and everything to do with sheer amusement."

For Miss Valentine was amusing, if nothing else, and her twists and turns of conversation were a challenge to follow. Norrington had always been fond of a challenge, even one of words rather than deeds.

"I just think that even without entering into any notions of love or romance, a man should be protective of those women he cares about. I can gather that not all men feel the same as I do about such things?"

"God, James," Faye quickly sighed, not so much in exasperation, more just for he sake of doing so. It was the sort of thing you did for someone you found endearing, after all, a less demeaning or active way of patting someone on the head. "If all men from your place and age cared for the women around them, sign me up right now. I'd like to see that." She truly couldn't imagine it, a place where women weren't so often left behind by men who either shirked from responsilities or just couldn't be made to give a damn at all.

Not that she really wanted it as much as she hinted so right then. It was certainly easier to generally assume that people didn't give a damn. She had managed to survive that way, in spite of having lost all memories or ties. No wonder the majority of living creatures on Earth (and Mars, and Venus) didn't bother with sentience.

"Seems awful soon for you to be caring about me, though," she added with a smile, just so that he knew she didn't mind. "Let me guess. You aren't married."

Miss Valentine was one of the more astute women that Norrington had ever met and in this conversation she was proving it over and over. He knew how to take the measure of a man, to see if he'd be loyal and serve well, but he never really knew how to read the delicate social cues that went between men and women. He'd never really had the opportunity to be on shore long enough for it to be an issue.

But Miss Valentine, it seemed, had hit the nail on the proverbial head.

"No, actually, I'm not. I don't see where that's of particular concern considering this island doesn't seem to care if unmarried men and women spend time together unchaperoned. I assure you, I have no ill intent. Just fondness."

Knowing this man's disposition, he probably had 'fondness' for just about any woman that he met, if simply as a matter of propriety, and Faye wasn't sure how much she liked that. It wasn't that she was going to hold it against him, of course, but it did mean that she had to be very careful in discerning just how much he cared for Faye Valentine as she was, rather than as an idea, or a single blade of grass in a field. She didn't mind being the latter. All she needed was to know.

"Ill-placed fondness," she said lightly with a quirked brow. "On a woman who won't properly swoon and doesn't really know what to do with a man who's fond. Ill intent, I'm more familiar with."

Fingers brushing against her chin, Faye tilted her head. "Anyway, I didn't mean to hint at that. I was just pointing out the fact that people who haven't been married yet, they're usually less jaded. Like you."

"Miss Valentine, my affection for you really doesn't care a whit about whether or not you return it," Norrington said quietly, watching her. "I find you to be a fascinating, independent woman and something I haven't had much experience with in my own life. Whether you find me fascinating in return is your own decision."

He smiled a little. "And perhaps when I do marry I will be just as jaded as you expect me to be. I doubt that, however, because I'm very sure of who I am."

Her eyes carefully rested on his, her gaze moving slowly from one to the other, as though unconsciously checking the color of each. No real difference, though the flecks didn't quite align here or there. Imperfect. Human. What quickly became clear to Faye was that she didn't really understand Norrington. Maybe now and again she could pin down possible motivations of his, but for all that she tried to analyze him, it felt like she was being scrutinized right in return. Like walking around each other.

It was just that for him, he was claiming that it was just a walk in the park. For Faye, it was all a dance, and much more deliberate.

"So you're going to like me whether I want it or not, huh?" Faye grinned, resting her chin against the back of her hand. "Well. Fascinating and independent only becomes more interesting when that hand shows you around the rest of my world. And maybe you can show me yours, Mister Sure-of-Himself."

"If there was a way to show you my world, I would, because it would mean I found a way home. As it is, Miss Valentine, you'll have to settle for me describing it myself," Norrington said ruefully.

"Much of who I am lies on the deck of a ship, Miss Valentine. I haven't had more than a few days on shore in a decade or more and that's why this place bothers me as it does. I like to be in motion, to see the world. This place is a trap."

"I'd drink to that," Faye replied with an exhale, digging further through the clothes box until she unearths a dress far more modest, sleeveless but long enough to skim her toes, midnight blue in hue. The cut wasn't the same, but the color was familiar enough that she threw it back into the box immediately, hoping that her expression didn't away too much. If anything, it was forcibly calm, emotionless to the untrained eye. Whitney Haggis Matsumoto always wandered back into her life one way or another when she least expected it, least wanted it, but that was just how life was.

"I was a bounty hunter," she said finally, her back pressed against the clothes box as she turned around to face him fully. "That ship you saw, helps me run through space and chase after criminals. The money's just a perk, really. If there wasn't a business in it, I'd probably..." She shrugged, helplessly, unable to think of any other occupation that might appeal to him and his sensibilities. It wasn't like she could just say, true though it was, that she'd probably end up swindling people out of hard-earned money.

"And here I thought you must have been a space pirate," Norrington said dryly, watching her with an amused smirk playing at her lips. "While I detest pirates as a general rule, I would have to make an exception for you, Miss Valentine. I think there's hope for you yet."

He tilted his head toward the clothes box. "What was wrong with that last one? I think the color favored you, the blue. It would have looked beautiful on you."

"A space pirate suggests that I'm just pure greed," Faye pointed out, just barely put out by James' assessment, which didn't feel anything like a compliment to her ear. "That I'll pillage and plunder without any kind of discerning eye. I'll tell you now, cowboy. That's the furthest thing from the truth." Forcing the tension out of her shoulders, Faye stretched her arms behind her, fingertips reaching for the ceiling.

"I only take from people who're asking for it, the suckers who head to the casino to gamble even when they know the odds are stacked astronomically against them," she explained, trying to avoid the midnight blue dress in the box, until James just had to go and bring it up.

"As for the dress, let's just say that someone in my past has put me off the color blue and has made it impossible for me to fully enjoy the night sky. It's no big deal."

"An honorable pirate, then. Up until recently, I wouldn't have believed such a thing existed," Norrington said, looking at her with a new light. "That said, a young man of my acquaintance has proven that old prejudice horribly misguided. I beg pardon for any offense, Miss Valentine."

At the other, he softened a little. "Someone mistreated you? I apologize, but if I may be bold, someone who would misuse you is the worst sort of bastard."

She tried her very best not to react. She could even feel her lips pressing more tightly together, her jaw taut, but still Faye ended up rolling her eyes with a marked trace of amusement on her lips. "Honorable? Honorable? God help whatever woman marries you one day, you'll be inflating her ego until her head bobs like a balloon," she snorted. "It's not honorable, it's just not being as much of a bitch as I usually come off as. But hey, honorable pirates, of course they exist. Or haven't you ever heard of Robin Hood?"

Shrugging, she waved the rest of his concerns off.

"Anyway, I don't need your apologies, I also don't need your boldness," she continued. "Not that I think it's too forward or anything, but he wasn't really the worst kind of bastard, as much as I thought he was for a while. Not a bastard. Just... weak. Yellow-bellied. A coward. That's all. He's more worth pitying than I am."

"And a woman like you doesn't deserve such a coward," Norrington said firmly, convinced of this. "No matter what you might think of yourself, bitch or no, I just find you to be bold and opinionated. While it's not a popular opinion, when I'm from, I happen to think that's not entirely a bad thing, Miss Valentine."

He laughed a little, a self-effacing gesture. "And I will continue to compliment you, as it suits me."

She tried to keep a straight face, she really did. After all, when was the last time someone had complimented her, really complimented her in the way that most women wanted to be complimented, and seemingly did so without any sort of ulterior motive? It was rare, it was enviable, but still she couldn't keep herself from breaking down into laughter, barely able to keep a lid on the volume.

"You don't typically use the word 'bitch' in that way, do you?" Faye managed after her laugh subsided, shaking her head. She'd dealt with her fair share of men before, many of them fairly delusional, some of them trying to live in an earlier age, and yet she'd never seen something quite like that. "Well, I won't complain about the compliments. But I maintain that you probably deserve twice as many in return." Her smile softened into something no less amused, but just a tad fond.

It was a dangerous sort of emotion, she reminded herself.

"Perhaps I do," Norrington said, laughing a little with her. It was easier to relax with her now that he had some measure of her manner. Crass, certainly, but there was a softness beneath all that steel.

"I'm not the sort of man to go begging for them, though, so they'll have to come my way by accident. I would much rather compliment a beautiful woman than hear three of my own in return."

Confidence, she concluded, a very sure amount of confidence in himself, the belief that he knew what he was doing and would be able to accomplish whatever he put his mind to. At least, when it came to matters of the sea, things that he could stem and control the flow of. Somehow, Faye got the sense that people certainly didn't fit within those categories. He was a little too unassuming for that.

"I don't go begging for compliments either," Faye grinned. "But I guess where we differ is that I enjoy giving them out even less. Nothing good usually comes of it. Just ends up blowing people's heads up, and somehow, I always end up around people who need that least."

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wake me up, I'm about to give it up

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