Jekyll and Hyde: "That ship has sailed, my darling."

A big secret (Captain Dance x jar of marmelade)

Captain Dance was standing in his office, hands behind his back. He was waiting for Silas. The man had given a very specific order and the bandit had to vow not to tell anyone. The clock ticked. Books and papers laid on the table, half buried from the work, Dance had had over the last couple of days.

He had kept his head low, however at the sound of the door opening, he looked up. Silas was entering the room. His large cloak was dropping from rain water and he had wrapped his arms around himself. Dance licked his lips nervously. Had Silas been successful?

"Did you brought me what I asked you to?", he asked and walked around the table. "Yes, Sir", grunted Silas. Moving towards the table he opened his cloak to reveal a small jar, filled with crimson red jam. Dance's eyes widened, however he soon found his composer again.

"Place it on the table." The undead Captain flinched shortly as Silas placed the jar on the table with a low thud. "Threat it with respect", he hissed angrily and formed his hands into fists. The bandit lifted a brow in confusion. "That's a jar of jam", he responded and gave his boss a weird look. What had gotten into Dance?

Dance responded coldly: "I know, but it is not any jar." He took out his pistole and pointed it at Silas. "Open the jar", the undead man demanded, feeling the thrill of being in controll. Silas had a look of beliverence and confusion on his face as he looked from the pistole to the jar and back to Dance.

"Open it", repeated Dance, eyes resting on the jar, and made the pistole click. Silas looked like he had to resist the urge to declare that his boss was as mad as a hatter. He slowly placed his hand on the jar and made the lock click sideways.

Dance watched the shiny, metall lock move and heard the soft plop as the vacuum left the jar. The sunlight broke itself at the edges, causing a small rainbow to be trapped in the glass. It had a beauty off its own.

Silas grunted: "Now what? What was that for?" "Leave my presence", responded the undead man. The bandit was rather happy to obey. Outside he was met by his mates, asking what had happened. Silas responded: "The Captain has lost it if you ask me." And they walked off.

In his office, Dance slowly closed windows and doors. He then turned to the jar. It stood there, its jam smooth and perfect, undisturbed, as if it awaited something to happen. Slowly and calmly the undead man walked towards the table and stopped. Looking down at his victim, he whispered: "You have nowhere to run. We are going to spend some really nice time together."

Almost absentminded, he slowly removed his gloves, finger by finger. Placing them on the table, Dance picked up the jar and smiled again. He lifted it towards the sky so the sun send waves of crimson colours on the glass. His fingers could feel every single texture. The glass was smooth like silk. Its coolness caressed his skin and he slowly turned around on the spot, still holding the jar.

Dance slowly took a seat. He did not just took a spoon to eat. Instead he lifted the jar up to his nose and sniffed. The marmelade smelled strong. Its fruity scent caressed his nostrils, made his skin tingle. Starwberry. A deep, rich red.

"You are mine and mine alone." Dance placed the jar on his legs and kept holding it there with one hand. He carefully turned around and took a spoon. It was silver and shinned. Dance's eyes glittered almost aggressively as he held the metall between his index and middle finger. It would be his weapon. The object that would destroy the perfect surface and claim its delicious content as his own.

Balancing the spoon on his fingers, Dance slowly made it bent down towards the jam. Almost tenderly, he made the metall slice through its thick skin of sugar, boild down fruits and jelly. It cracked open like a fresh wound, its content sparkling in the sun.

Dance digged deeper with the spun, before he withdraw it. There one it laid a crimson, large dropp of marmelade. It shivered as if it knew what fate was about to happen. Dance slowly leaned back in the chair so he was comfortable. Then his lips slowly parted and he pushed the jam into his mouth.

Closing it around the spoon, the undead man slowly withdraw the metall object, feeling the jam slither of its supportive ship and landing on his tongue. Dance slowly nomed, laying his full focuss on the marmelade. The first spoon was always the best. This dripping sensation of flavour exploding on your tongue, the sugar, giving you a shock, the strawberry's flavour numbing your palate.

Dance enjoyed the sensation for a precious amount of time, before he swallowed. Placing his fingers on his throat, he followed the jam down, until he could no longer feel it. Looking at the jar, which now contained a gap in its jam, Dance took the spoon and dived in once more.

He kept eating in that manner, glad no one saw his sensation and obsession, until he had scratched the last remains of jam out of the small glass. Chuckling darkly, he eyed the empty glass that caught the light like a dieing glimmer of life, before he threw it in the bin.

Standing up, Dance pulled over his gloves. Taking his cap, he put it on his hand. The undead man gave the room one last look, before he opened the windows again. Unlocking the door, he made his way down the corridors of Tenebrae Headquarters. Time to get to work.