In all honesty, although he would be hard-pressed to admit it, Jack doesn't listen to the speech. He used to, before people stopped coming back as often and suddenly everything they heard sounded the same to him, never seeming like enough to encompass the sick weight of actually realising you'll never see a soldier again, someone that you had known and fought alongside. And he trusts General Pitchiner to keep more people safe than he would anyone else — but Jack has never done well with ceremony or any of the detached professionalism that the military so often calls for, frustrated by necessary, emotionless tedium. Even knowing that the General will look out for his men doesn't keep his speech from blurring in with all the rest.
It isn't long before the boring ceremony part is over, at least, and everyone starts to move as they're directed. Jack has absolutely no intention of following the herd. General Pitchiner is still standing at the front of the deck, looking over the crowd, and Jack breaks away from his line to start making his way through the crowd towards the front.
"Overland," someone hisses, making a grab at him that he dodges, "we're gearing up for a mission, you're supposed to be—"
Jack waves them off, weaves between his fellow sailors and ignores every one of them that tries to scold him; he only has to worry about being caught by a superior officer, and for once it seems like none of them are keeping an eye on him as they sometimes do, probably too focused for the moment on rounding up the newer recruits. Someone will surely catch sight of him sooner or later, but that won't be a problem once he ducks out of the procession, because he has a home plate waiting at the front of the deck. They can't get him in trouble if the reason for his delay is that the General is talking to him, after all.
Way too many people crash into him and step on his feet — enough that he has to wonder how many of them were really accidents, there are a lot of people here whose feelings towards him range from mild irritation to outright loathing — but Jack finally escapes the crowd of military personnel milling about. He stumbles out with a yelp, his shin clipped by someone's steel-toed boot, turning to call out at the soldier as they walk away, "Okay, that was definitely on purpose, that was a kick!"
It's not the stealthiest way to cap off his effort to shirk his duties, and it doesn't matter at all — there's their esteemed General. Jack approaches him looking every part the proper sailor, his posture held straight and shoulders squared, and he even salutes when he comes to a stop. Anyone that didn't know Jackson Overland would think him almost professional, the way he seems now.
"Nice speech, sir." The sarcastic emphasis he puts on the address is much less professional than the rest of the fake good soldier act he's putting on, as is the crooked smirk on his face.
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It isn't long before the boring ceremony part is over, at least, and everyone starts to move as they're directed. Jack has absolutely no intention of following the herd. General Pitchiner is still standing at the front of the deck, looking over the crowd, and Jack breaks away from his line to start making his way through the crowd towards the front.
"Overland," someone hisses, making a grab at him that he dodges, "we're gearing up for a mission, you're supposed to be—"
Jack waves them off, weaves between his fellow sailors and ignores every one of them that tries to scold him; he only has to worry about being caught by a superior officer, and for once it seems like none of them are keeping an eye on him as they sometimes do, probably too focused for the moment on rounding up the newer recruits. Someone will surely catch sight of him sooner or later, but that won't be a problem once he ducks out of the procession, because he has a home plate waiting at the front of the deck. They can't get him in trouble if the reason for his delay is that the General is talking to him, after all.
Way too many people crash into him and step on his feet — enough that he has to wonder how many of them were really accidents, there are a lot of people here whose feelings towards him range from mild irritation to outright loathing — but Jack finally escapes the crowd of military personnel milling about. He stumbles out with a yelp, his shin clipped by someone's steel-toed boot, turning to call out at the soldier as they walk away, "Okay, that was definitely on purpose, that was a kick!"
It's not the stealthiest way to cap off his effort to shirk his duties, and it doesn't matter at all — there's their esteemed General. Jack approaches him looking every part the proper sailor, his posture held straight and shoulders squared, and he even salutes when he comes to a stop. Anyone that didn't know Jackson Overland would think him almost professional, the way he seems now.
"Nice speech, sir." The sarcastic emphasis he puts on the address is much less professional than the rest of the fake good soldier act he's putting on, as is the crooked smirk on his face.