What a bother. It was a tattered mess before it had even dipped into ocean's water, but no sea faring man could bear the sight of a destroyed vessel. From here on out he'd have to travel by foot, or by wing. An easy choice as his boat shoes were long lost to that wicked tide. Plus, he was dreadfully hungry.
Jack smelled blood, and it turned his stomach to think he could now sense such a horrible thing. It was his own, dripping dark stains from the master bedroom. His dying, expelled blood. Worse yet, even with that knowledge it still seemed more appealing then he wanted to admit.
Christopher said that guy in the orange hoodie was doomed because his chin was too big. That's... kind of true... Anyway, are you beginning to see why Theodore is my favorite character to write?