Work Text:
“Jack.”
“Mike.”
His junior broke the uncomfortable silence. “You retired to open a bookstore?” he demanded.
All Jack did was shrug back, which seemed to infuriate him even more. Maybe it was the casualness, of this, of domesticity. “Technically, it’s a bookshop.”
Mike threw his hands in the air, a show of frustration, like he was a trainee again. “Whatever. I’m here to warn you.”
“Officially?”
“Yes. As a First Officer—,” and Jack didn’t hear another thing he said. Because First Officers were executioners.
And the boy he’d raised was going to be his.
The Guild would take this too.