[ Jack calls the apartment home and so does Alayne, though she has difficulty genuinely thinking of it that way. The Tranquility had been her home for a year before COMPASS decided to steal her. Before that, the Eyrie. King's Landing. The North. None of these places held her for very long, despite Alayne (and Sansa before her) having given her heart to them each. After a while the process gets tiresome and so Alayne tells herself that she's done with it completely. It doesn't keep her from making sure the apartment is as cozy and comely as possible, but it does prevent her from loving it in the way the word "home" truly implies.
Evidence of Alayne's work is plain. Magazines that had been out the morning of have been tidied and there's a bottle and glass waiting for Jack on the kitchen counter, a drink already poured. There tiny gifts, the only ones Alayne knows how to give. She wishes there was more (she always wishes there was more).
She's still in her work clothes when she emerges from the bedroom. A plain black dress that exposes her collarbones and slopes down in the back. It makes her look like a ballerina, her long hair pulled away from her face. Alayne smiles at him. Curtseys, even. (People don't curtsey in the modern world but this is Jack and she knows it's no harm done.) ] Jack.
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Evidence of Alayne's work is plain. Magazines that had been out the morning of have been tidied and there's a bottle and glass waiting for Jack on the kitchen counter, a drink already poured. There tiny gifts, the only ones Alayne knows how to give. She wishes there was more (she always wishes there was more).
She's still in her work clothes when she emerges from the bedroom. A plain black dress that exposes her collarbones and slopes down in the back. It makes her look like a ballerina, her long hair pulled away from her face. Alayne smiles at him. Curtseys, even. (People don't curtsey in the modern world but this is Jack and she knows it's no harm done.) ] Jack.