[RP Log] On doing the right thing...or doing bad things, by choice

[downwithmyship]

((continued from here.))

Norrington: “Well. At least he did the right thing.”

Jack:” ...Surely there was a more right thing? Righter? ... A less dead solution, at the least. “ Jack narrows his eyes on Norrington as they walk, curious as to why death would seem so fine an option.

Norrington: “No, not for him.” Always so very serious.

Jack: “Death seems an unavoidable and unsavory side effect of doing the 'right' thing these days.”

Norrington: “Mmm, I've noticed.” Pause, thought. “You know, I doubt I will ever say this again, but I would like, very much like, to get drunk.”

Jack: “A most serious dilemma.” Slow grin. “Fear not. We shall heal what it is ails you.” He has rum even as they travel. Shocking, yes? He looks very proud of his preparedness.

Norrington: "I doubt you can heal what ails me, but you can help me get well and properly dulled to the world." They've found some random, Nexus room to sit in? Perhaps even a bar? "May I?"

Jack: Jack can find the nearest bar without benefit of maps, compass, or the native tongue and within an hour. Drowning worries in liquor with James Norrington is a bit more rare an event. "Please, mate." The pirate thrusts the bottle towards his companion. "May the world be a far off fuzzy thing soon enough."

Norrington: Norrington stretches his back - my god, listen to that crackle - sits on a nearby couch and takes a healthy drink. "It's a little unpleasant to see oneself die."

Jack: "...So it is. Not so grand to be present for it, either." Jack's face falls and he scowls at the floor. Finally, he drops down on the couch next to James and snatches his rum back. He takes a long pull of his own.

Norrington: "So I've heard." His time in the Nexus has mellowed him somewhat -- not much, but just enough. "Tell me, Sparrow. What've you been up to all these months?"

Jack: "I made attempt to have my ship mended..." Which should be a short and simple story. For almost anyone else, it would be. Something about Jack's very presence complicates things. "The outcome should be mended ship. Now I find myself plus one bonny young lass and minus a large sailing vessel. .... She is gorgeous, though...and clever."

Norrington: "Your ship is truly a woman then?" Another drink, this one slower to enjoy the burn. "Was her first action to slap you? You know, Sparrow, it really is a shame that only the ladies have that privilege."

Jack: "...It wasn't her 'first' action, no. Hardly see why you'd say so." There's a slight twitch to his lip and he looks off to the side as he sighs with resignation. "That never does come til after I've slept with them. She has forgiven me, since." Jack leans away from Norrington, giving the other Captain a wary look. "Are you after that right and honor, eh?"

Norrington: "I think that I have managed to acquire enough other rights and honours to satisfy myself. I wouldn't want to strive above my station." But the fact remains that Sparrow sometimes needs a good slap.

Jack: "Good to hear you're satisfied." Jack grins wickedly. He takes what he wants out of a conversation. He takes a few deep pulls and off the rum and passes it back to Norrington.

Norrington: Another drink and he's starting to lose some of the sharper edges. You can almost see his shoulders start to relax. "Not really satisfied, not properly you know, but I am...no, not content either. I am enjoying myself."

Jack: Jack thinks a moment and leans back on the couch. "Death has been more eventful than I'd have expected. ... I suppose 'enjoying myself' is a fine enough way to put it." He turns towards Norrington and leans in. "James... A terrible thing has happened. .... I'm in love."

Norrington: Ugh. Do not call him James. No one does that. "You have my deepest sympathies. Who is the young woman, so that I may begin a simple, yet damningly slanderous leaflet campaign against you?"

Jack: And here he thought he was being formal with calling him 'James' rather than 'Jamie'. Polite, and all that. Jack shrugs a bit, looking over his nails casually to hide feeling foolish for his answer. "..Pearl. It's my ship...Or was my ship... that's brought this grim fate upon me."

Norrington: Norrington is acceptable. Nothing else. "Are you planning to make an honest woman of her?"

Pause. Almost a frown. God help us, he's about to be honest. "If it's really true between you, I wish you the best of luck and you're a very lucky man, Captain."

Jack: "Am I planning to..." Jack looks at Norrington as if he's gone utterly mad. The man is clearly babbling nonsense and blasphemy with his well-wishes. "What I plan to make of her, mate, is a seaworthy and well armed ship. It's the only way I'll be free of these feelings. Savvy? There's no touch of luck about it."

Norrington: "Good, you had me worried for a moment." Even so, he really did mean it. If that's what made Sparrow truly happy, odd as it was, he'd wish him well and send a wedding gift.

Another smaller drink and he's feeling pleasantly warm. Perhaps he should stretch out a little more - my god, he's a GIANT.

Jack: There are miles of the former Commodore. It's unreasonable! It's unfair. Why can't he have made this unlikely sort of 'friendship' with someone like Beckett, whom Jack can comfortably lean on from above? ...Oh yes.. Because Cutler is a hateful, unpalatable rotten turd of a man whom no one has ever liked. "Shall we lash together more furnishings to accommodate you, mate?"

Norrington: "Mmm, please do, Captain. It's such a treat to have you offering to help me." A low, wry chuckle. Yep, he's drunk as a lord. "Provided I am not lashed to the furnishings, I rather think that would defeat the purpose, don't you?"

Jack: "All depends on your purpose, really." Jack's bound plenty to chairs and the like, for plenty of reasons. He's also been tied a fair number of times himself. A number of them even being friendly tyings.
He actually does get up, slide the table away, and pull the facing couch closer and against theirs. "Watch it, lest you lose a bit of your vertical advantage." Once Norrington's feet are clear, Jack pushes from the back of the couch to press them together and form a rather solid mass of couch. He leaps over the arm and sprawls out. "A bit slap-dash, but a defensible fortress none-the-less."

Norrington: "Mmm, we're fairly under equipped, but I'm not expecting the invading Mongol hordes, unless you are?" Norrington wriggles -- he actually, honestly wriggles and stretches out. My god, soon enough he might even undo the top button of his collar.

Perhaps not, let's not go mad with freedom.

Jack: Jack takes his turn at the bottle and watches Norrington seem something akin to relaxed. It brings a self-satisfied grin to his face, but so many things do. "No expectations, exactly, but I'm rarely surprised. Whatever scabrous villains may come, they'll not have our lives or our rum." He raises his voice, on the off chance any around had nefarious plans, he'll squash them now.

He looks over the expanse of stretched out sea Captain. "Do try to leave a bit of room, won't you?"

Norrington: "Should I say something encouraging like 'avast', or whatever?" Another dry chuckle and James looks over to watch him with slightly hooded eyes. If Jack offers the bottle, he'll refuse. He's relaxed but not too drunk. (Or so he thinks.)

"I suppose you would be the man to see if I ever chose to learn proper piratical methods. I...no, I shouldn't tell you. Your ego already takes up more room than I ever could."

Jack: "I'd rather you not." What is it with those outside the trade and their 'arr's and 'avast's ? Rather annoying, really. Jack does offer and is put out by the refusal. They've only just started. "Giving up already? Hardly seems like you." Drinking is hardly the same as pursuit of one's goals, but Jack sees both as important.

"That I would. Versed in code and conduct, and with a wealth of experience to impart...should I be the imparting sort." He rises up on his knees so as to face Norrington when speaking. This requires a hand to balance on the back of the couch and that he rather straddles one of the Captain's legs, but eye contact is so important to good conversation. "And you should tell me. More-over, must tell me. ... I've suffered a horrible few days, Jamie. You've no idea." Surely they're on friendly enough terms for diminutive forms of first names? They are drinking, after all.

Norrington: "I would like to be able to stagger homewards in something close to a straight line. I would also like to avoid any horrors the Nexus sees fit to throw at me." AGH. Rather like a straddling Jack. Gerrof. Shove.

"You poor, poor man. Who, as an aside, should never call me Jamie. It's better than James, but not by much." The shove really wasn't all that strong, he knows enough not to make Jack spill his rum. "If you must know, I will demand recompense."

Jack: "I'll see you home safely. You've my word." Though he can keep an impressive grip on his faculties and hold his balance on a ship while drunk, Jack over estimates his own inebriated abilities quite often. He wrinkles his nose and pouts as he's pushed off. That was just rude is all.

"Jim, then? Jimmie? ... Norrie?" Jack tries out names he knows damn well won't be taken any better. It's just amusing to torment the man. ""Recompense?" Ridiculous. But then, if Norrington sees the information as worthy of trade... Jack's curiosity is an insatiable thing. "Fine. How is it you'd like to be compensated? I've regrettably little to offer, at present." It's depressing. It truly is. Paying rent is a terrible fate to befall a man.

Norrington: He shakes his head and lets it fall back to lean on the couch - ngh, this is awkward and ... wait for it ... wait for it ... undoes the top button of his collar. How indecent.

"You're paying rent?!" You've scandalized him, Sparrow. There are certain constants in the world and Jack Sparrow making a semi-honest living breaks most of them. "I could tell you and you could owe me?"

Jack: Well, now the Captain is practically nude. Jack should clearly be insulted and embarrassed for the both of them. He's not, mind you. He's rather amused it took so long, actually. Were he in different company, he would be far more disrobed than that.

"I am. Pitiable thing. Had a man paying it for me, but we're at odds presently." Jack relies on constants like his not needing to make an honest living as well. This is just heresy. "I see no reason not to add you to the list of those owed. Agreed."

Norrington: "When I first met you, all that time ago in Port Royal, one of my men said you were the best pirate he'd ever seen. I glared enough to singe his eyebrows." Another laugh. It really does seem like another lifetime.

"You do know that if you need a berth, I'll have you back on Paragon." He means it.

Jack: Oh, that does do Jack's ego good. He lifts his nose in the air and seems almost to be waiting for someone with a brush and paints to capture the moment. "Wise man. I do hope you weren't too hard on him."

"...I've two who go with me, should I take that offer. Pearl, the woman, and a cabin boy. A lad I promised place on my crew." Who he reminds himself he is not training as a successor. That would be preposterous.

Norrington: "Mmm, I let him say it because if I bothered him over the fact, he'd be able to remind me how you 'borrowed' my ship." Norrington winces and rolls his shoulder. It's always troubled him, but lately it's been acting up worse than usual.

"Fair enough. I normally do not approve of a lady on my ship, but I suspect that Pearl can handle herself."

Jack: He's rather happily laughing to himself, but Norrington's wince stops him and catches his interest. "You alright, mate?" He nods to the shoulder that seems to be troubling the Captain.

"Pearl is every bit as skilled as myself. She'll do well. ... Is the Paragon kept busy of late?" The question sounds far more serious than most things out of Jack Sparrow's mouth. He's always so sure to try and make his queries sound as if the response is inconsequential, but it's gotten harder.

Norrington: "Nothing much, just pulled it where I should've let be." He has a good amount of scar tissue built up on and in his left shoulder. Today it aches and is painfully stiff. Bah. Norrington closes his eyes and tries to roll it, then rub at the aching part. Bah, again.

"He is busy and so's the crew. We've been working with some worlds similar enough to our own that the charts occasionally line up."

Jack: "I've done that. I've a tendency to pull what I should leave be, actually." He turns a bit and hands the bottle to Norrington, whether the man wants it or not. Jack needs both hands free. He's had many kind women in Singapore demonstrate for him how to work the pain from a man's joints. He tries his own dirty hands at Norrington's stiff shoulder.

"Ah. Good. " He pauses, thinking. "Norrington...Captain...since I'm already building a debt, might I commission your ship for a .... small task? I'll likely not even have need." He waves it off as a passing interest, but he needs options right now.

Norrington: "Why am I not surprised?" Norrington takes the bottle and then hisses when Jack touches his shoulder. That hurts. It hurts rather a lot. (Is anyone surprised that James is far too tense?) Still, if it will help, he'll put up with dirty hands on his nice, clean jacket and shirt.

"Of course, Sparrow. Provided that it is a reasonable task. No explosions, monsters, zombies, demons or what have you."

Jack: Sparrow rolls his eyes at the hissing. No need to be a baby about it. But then he realizes just how very tense Norrington is. "I may ease this a bit, but you need a woman." It's just friendly advice.

'Reasonable' is a relative term. Jack considers it a moment. "The man who saw to slaughtering a number of my useless and unnecessary alternates... For each Jack Sparrow dead there's a Black Pearl left lacking a Captain. Savvy?" Let's ignore for the moment the number of pirates who would fall upon Jack's ship in a feeding frenzy the moment the fastest ship in the known seas was left unguarded.

Norrington: "Thank you, Doctor. I'll take your advice under consideration and find a suitable chemist at the next port." Another dry laugh and he shifts to try and dislodge his 'helper'. Here, take your rum back....after I've had some.

"That's...that's a good cause, Jack. I've no love for slaughter." Yes, he just used Sparrow's first name. That's either a sign that he's drunk (likely), concerned (possible) or trying to reassure Sparrow (conceivable).

Jack: "I know a few ports where you could find just the sort of 'chemist'." He grins, laughing to himself, and takes his bottle back. Fine. If his help isn't wanted further, he'll finish off the bottle.

"The best sort of cause. We'll find the Pearl, bring her back here and be done with it. ... The next part of the journey, I think, would be too much for you. Better that you stick to your simple and safe trade routes." Jack gives Norrington a casual sideways glance. Was that a challenge? It may have been.

Norrington: "You know just as well as I do that I would never visit that sort of chemist." Snort. Really Jack, who're we trying to kid here?

"Safe and simple routes? The sort with real dragons and all that? Yes, I'm sure they're painfully tiring." Jack is warm and warmth is good for an injury, right? Leaning? Yes?

Jack: "And that's just your problem." He knows damned well Norrington would never do such a thing. The problem is, it would probably do him well if he could be the sort of person to let go and take what he wants.

Dragons are a bit worrying... But never mind that, it's not the trip Jack has planned. The trip he may need a few additional crewmen for. He looks momentarily surprised when leaned on, but then accepts it and slips an arm over Norrington's shoulders. It makes the conversation seem a bit more private...and cozy, at that. "Mildly dangerous trade routes, then. What I'm in need of --and I do stress that this is a most dire need-- will call not only for daring and a willingness to face treacherous and strange seas, but also acts of piracy. I'd not want to sully your honor with it... Even if I could use a few more of the living on my side."

Norrington: "Thank you for that startling insight into my inner psyche, I am truly astounded by your perceptiveness." It seems that a drunk-James is a lot more comfortable with leaning, arms around shoulders and in general has misplaced most of his personal space issues.

"Jack, I can't do that. It's ... I can help you, but I can't turn pirate." There's only so much he's willing to give and that's not a part of it.

Jack: Jack was born seemingly unaware that other human beings can even have personal space. He can, certainly, but everyone else exists within his personal space at all times. It's quite vast. He's happy to see these silly touching rules done away with.

"I need to claim an item --charts-- from another pirate. Call it what you will." Stealing from other pirates is hardly piracy at all it's practically like shaking hands, as far as Jack's concerned. Certainly not enough to condemn a man. But he needs those charts and --also by his own opinion-- Sao Feng does not. He just needs someone else to take them for him.

Norrington: "Jack, Jack, I cannot get involved in that sort of thing. I ... " He's not sorry. He's also not going to get involved. "I believe it is too late in the day to make a clear, rational decision on the matter. I can help you get there, but I can't swear to more than that." Forgive him?

Jack: "Right. Didn't imagine you would. " Jack shrugs. He really hadn't expected to be able to push his odd friendship with Norrington quite that far. It would help him immensely if he could, but there you have it. "This prolonged holiday in the after-life and its ever mounting limitations and annoyances has gone on long enough. I'll be setting myself free, Jamie. One way or another."

Norrington: Norrington is quiet for a moment, "I've still been looking for another way home for you. I did promise and I am a man of my word. If this is the only way, then ... then it is the only way."

He shifts about on the couch and looks uncomfortable, that cost him a lot to say. "After all, you need to get home to your Norrington, who will undoubtedly hang you promptly upon arrival." Oh, wait, his Norrington is likely dead. Shit.

Jack: "Thank you for that." He knows it must have been hard to say. He also knows that, for whatever reason, Norrington truly has been trying to help him. It confuses Jack greatly, but he'll accept it.

"Perhaps he will, the bastard... and then I'll be back with you, eh?" Not that he has any intention of dying again. If his own Norrington threatens him, that unfortunate former-Commodore may die by Jack's hand. Death has not been good for Jack, no matter how he seems.

Norrington: "He won't, Jack. He's dead, I think. He died doing a good, but stupid thing. He stood and fought when he should have gone with her." That's the crux of the matter. That is what is bothering him.

"I think the Nexus has changed me, I can't imagine that it would ever be better to die in a stupid, false admiral's uniform than go free." James shakes his head and tries to leave this train of thought. Clearly the drinking didn't help all that much.

Jack: The James Norrington in Jack's own world betrayed him. The man hates Jack, so far as the pirate can tell, and would kill him as soon as look at him. Still, when he hears that this enemy is likely dead, it gives Jack pause. He hangs his head a bit and has to think on it. It only lasts a moment, but it's more than he grieves for his own crewmen. "...Sorry to hear that... That'd be the one who had you questioning things, then?"

Jack laughs. It may not be appropriate, but he's a bit soused and it strikes him as damned funny. "Ah. The dilemma, then, is that you've come to value your own happiness and needs above useless titles. Oh, I can see where that's a miserable condition indeed." He scoffs and goes to take a drink from an empty bottle. "Change isn't always for the worse."

Norrington: "That would be him, yes. The damn fool broke a group of prisoners out of the Dutchman's brig and tried to hold off Jones' crew to let them escape. They got away, but he died." She did kiss him, but he's still dead.

A gentle nudge to the ribs. "Do shut up, Jack. Why do you never shut up? It is miserable and awkward and it makes my damned shoulder hurt."

Jack: "Certainly a brave move, at least. A foolish one, but the two tend to go hand in hand." Jack feels for Norrington. He does. To the very strongest extent Jack can feel for another person. When he heard of an alt of himself wasting from disease, it stung at him for days. Only stands to reason this news hurts Norrington.

"What is it makes you so afraid of your own freedom, Jamie?" He probably should shut up, but Norrington fascinates him. He also should accept he's had enough to drink, but instead he's waving for attention to order another bottle.

Norrington: "I think he did it because he was scared and because that damnable woman finally let herself get kissed." There's a possible connection here. Everyone she kisses ends up dead in short order -- Jack, Will, Norrington, Sao Feng.

"I like order to things. I want to work within clearly defined and delinated limits, Jack. The unknown is just that, unknown. I don't know and I don't trust how I'll react." Someone is a loquacious drunk, isn't he?

Jack: "Oh gods... Elizabeth? The girl's lips are deadly. She's not to be trusted." If Jack were more aware of the pattern, he certainly wouldn't be surprised. She seems the sort.

"The unknown's only unknown until you go about knowing it. Likewise, you'll find for yourself how you'll react when the moment comes. Your limits, Jamie, are a prison. Why you'd build it for yourself I've no idea." Jack applies every bit of what he does know to making the best of the unknown. If there weren't surprises here and there it would hardly be worth it.

Norrington: "I know my limits full well and I am nowhere near drunk enough, nor mad enough to actually discuss them with you." The trouble is he's not entirely sure what he's capable of -- there's his alternate who stole the heart and allowed Swann to die. He must have known. He -must-.

"I don't think this worked exactly as planned, Jack." Another snort and he lets his head fall back.

Jack: "That's fine. I've ordered more to drink." If Jack has his way, they'll find the point that's 'drunk enough to let go of those limits', but he's just being hopeful. He doesn't know how much doubt Norrington's dealing with, but that's hardly his fault. He's trying, damn it, and that's more than most get from him.

"The best things work out nothing like you planned them." He turns to give a weak smirk. From Norrington's chin, down the length of the man's body, the man seems to flow in this one continuous line that Jack can't help but follow with his eyes for just a moment. "You need to let go completely or not at all. You'll only hurt yourself otherwise."

Norrington: "I'll end up stabbed by a man with a starfish for a face, yes, I think I'm starting to get that message. The Fates aren't particularly subtle." He's keeping his eyes closed, it's easier to talk that way.

"I mentioned that I could always take lessons from you, in remedial relaxation and piratical deviance." Another small laugh that's more of a shake, than anything else. "What would you suggest for homework?"

Jack: Jack brightens a moment, thinks to say 'oh, I know him. Will's father.' but then thinks better of it and settles back down. Probably not important to the conversation. It's so odd how Norrington can even look tense when he looks drunk and half asleep.

"I've told you time and again, mate, you need your baser needs seen to. However, since you're loathe to take my advice... roll over." He disentangles himself from Norrington and nudges the man to roll onto his stomach.

Norrington: And so, James rolls over. That's right. Hell is freezing, pigs are flying, James Norrington has just done something he was asked without a hint of complaint. Praise the lord and pass the ammunition.

"Am I to assume that this is some bizarre pirate ritual? If you bring out a goat and dagger, I will leave."

Jack: "Not quite." Jack gets up on his knees and straddles Norrington's hips. "Could be, if you'd prefer. Though...that 'ritual' is common to the Navy as well, as I understand it." No, Jack is going to finish what he started with the shoulder. He leans over Norrington and starts at the shoulders, planning to work his way down the back.
"Learned this from very small women. My apologies for the weight difference. I'll skip the bits with needles and the part where I'd walk on you, eh?"

Norrington: Before Jack starts, there's a wriggle and he might almost be bucked off. Seems that James is *GASP* taking off his jacket.

"Mmm, please do skip that. But don't stop talking." Cracked. He's cracked. That's all there is to it. (Maybe not all, but it's a good portion.)

Jack: He rises up to let the Jacket be removed under him before he settles back down and gets to work. Jack pulls off his own coat and rests his hat on the back of the couch --close enough to keep an eye on, of course. Once he gets to work on Norrington's tense muscles, it might be noted, Jack has very strong hands.

"I know you're adverse to brothels and their women, but you've no idea the services offered. It's not all so simple as sex... Though that's a fine service, as well. ... I've paid women well just to bathe me."

Norrington: "It's not the sex I'm opposed to. I don't like being touched by people I don't know. It's unnerving." Norrington, this is your sober self speaking through the fourth wall. SHUT UP or you'll regret this in the morning.

"When I was younger, much younger and first came to Port Royal, there was a woman and she used to wash my hair. I thought it was the silliest thing, but I've missed it and her."

Jack: "Depends on the person and how unknown...and the sort of touching." Strange men touching Jack puts him right off. Or women approaching when he can't see them. But if he's paid a girl, a few pleasantries and a bit of banter is all it takes for him to be comfortable with the task at hand.

Jack grins at what he knows isn't commonly shared information.
"Feels good, does it not?" Hard to say if he means the hair washing, his massage, or just confessing to such things.

Norrington: "Mmhmm, it does, Jack. I'd thank you, but we're back to this ego problem of yours." Another almost-hiss. "Yes, there, that spot."

"Her name was Bessie and she was and still is the most beautiful woman I ever knew. Sweet tempered, gentle, but when we met she nearly knocked me out with a well tossed apple." He's smiling and ... and ... relaxing. It's official. Jack Sparrow can work miracles. He should be sainted.

Jack: Jack has worked wet and swollen knots from rigging lines that were easier to slip than the knots in Norrington's back. Everything inside the man seems as if it's pulled taught enough to snap. Finally, though, it does seem to be easing.
He doesn't need to be told how well he's doing...he can feel it. "I fear my hands may never recover after this."

Jack grins. So that's who Bessie is. "She sounds to be a fine girl. There were a few that fascinated me like that when I was young... Not many since. Not til recent complications."

Norrington: Whatever noise that James just made was rather personal and more than a little appreciative of the fine work that Jack is doing. "I fear that I'll never recover my infamous and legendary posture. God forbid I can't be used as a hat-rack or surveyor's post."

"Last I heard, she got married and is the mother of seven or eight." He's proud. It's a good memory of a good and simple time. "She even has a James among the lot."

Jack: Whatever noise it is James just made, it rather tickled Jack and he's now actively trying to get it again. Maybe if he leans into it a bit more? "Yes, you'd make for a rather formidable scarecrow as well... Sorry to cost you the fine options for employment."

Thankfully out of Norrington's sight, Jack makes a face at the proud mention of his lost love's bountiful fertility. One child seems a cruel sentence to punishment. Eight would be damnation. "Good for her, then. May they all grow to be strong and honorable men.... except, possibly, the girls."

Norrington: Yes, that's it. Right there, Jack. You've got it. Another one of those sounds -- which, by all rights, are nigh unto indecent.

"I'm sure they all will. S'a good woman." He hasn't seen her in years and years, but Norrington isn't someone to give up on that sort of thing.

Jack: Oh, this is marvelous. It's like playing a musical instrument made of near-sexual moaning. Also, it would be earthshatteringly embarrassing to a sober Captain Norrington. Jack continues gleefully. Having nothing to do with the fact those sounds are a bit thrill unto themselves. ahem.

"Doubtless true." Jack likes this position. It saves him the trouble of looking sincere. Honestly, he can't believe how devoted Norrington is to those who can't offer him the same. "Troubling odd, then, that she'd not still be with such a good man as yourself. Married a saint, did she?"

Norrington: Ahem, indeed.

"No, Jack. I couldn't've married her. It wouldn't have been proper. I ...yes, just like that, God you're good at this. I paid for her freedom, it wouldn't have been seemly for me to continue with her." Oh, Norrington, you dear, sweet stupid fool. He's always been led along by his heart and that's why he's so very uptight about everything.

Jack: "You'd be surprised what all it is I'm good at." He tilts back and moves his hands down to work the lower part of Norrington's back. "Love's not a thing can be paid for. Either you 'ave it, or you have not. And I've found it's rarely proper." He's seen his fair share. Rarely stands in its way, either. He's just never taken well to love, himself.

Norrington: He knew that staying with Bessie wouldn't have worked, but the least he could give her was her own freedom. He is a gentleman, after all.

There's another quiet, contented sound and Norrington almost drifts off.

Jack: Sleep. Sleep is good. Jack's able to sleep sometimes. No no.. A bar is a poor place to sleep. He's done it plenty enough to be sure of that.
Jack gives Norrington a quick couple of pats to the cheek to bring him back around.

"Jamie.. I'll not be carrying you to your ship. Know that. ... Simply too much of you for the task."

Norrington: He wriggles and rolls over, hi Jack. "I know. So, perhaps, it would best behoove us to leave this charming establishment, hmm?"

He's smiling and well relaxed. How long can this last? "Thank you for this, Jack. You're a good man and I promise never to say that in public again."

Jack: Jack has to lift a bit to facilitate the rolling and not fall on his ass. Hi, indeed. He could point out the compromising appearance of their position both prior to movement and current... but he'll keep it to himself. "Aye. Best to make good our departure while we're still able... or mostly able."

Hopefully this shall last long enough for Jack to have a warm night away from his worries, but he'll not count on it. It all went pear-shaped in the end last time, now didn't it? "You're quite welcome, and I'll appreciate that confidentiality. Not that anyone would believe you. You'd just appear mad." Surely he could just flop down atop the impressive length of Captain and sleep a short while? Jack shakes the idea from his head and pulls himself up to crawl off of the mass of couch he's created. He tumbles over the arms at one end and falls in a heap to the floor. A second later he's to his feet waving to those who couldn't give a damn. "Fine. I'm fine. As you were."

Norrington: "Not your fault at all, s'the land that doesn't move the way the ship does and should." A heave and he's not quite tumbled over, but there are a good, few moments of unsteadiness. "We should go to a ship, down to the sea, down to the sea and shore."

They'll lean together (and possibly grab another bottle and some tobacco(?) for later) while they make a slow, slightly unsteady way to somewhere less bar-like and more appropriate for sleeping this off.

Jack: "Too right. No hope at all for land. Never will learn to behave properly." And so Jack will stagger and stumble on land until it sees fit to sway and list like his ship.

Another bottle is most certainly in order for their travels and Jack has tobacco and better on his person. In fact, the cigarette he rolls as they walk --and it is a messy ordeal; leaning on another man and trying to roll as he moves-- contains no tobacco at all. Amsterdam, he's found, has become a far more interesting place with time. England never should have warred with the Dutch. He takes a drag from the joint and passes the messy thing. "Have a bit of that. It's brilliant." The shore is close to a ship, isn't it? And it seems private enough for now. Jack drops down on the sand because walking is tiresome and Paragon always makes him feel as if he has unavoidable company.

Norrington: "Tastes like burnt, spiced pork. Terrible stuff. I think I've got some Virginia leaf back on Paragon." But the sand is so much better - still warm at the end of the day.

Another drag and he passes the dubious cigarette back to the good Captain. "You can have it back. Although, I had a dream once where I tasted something like that." From his blush, it must have been an interesting dream.

Jack: "Terrible? Bah. Clearly, you've no taste at all." It isn't quite so sticky as true hashish, but it's strong stuff all the same and burns more like tobacco. Jack likes that it doesn't leave him so vulnerable as opium. He'd cuddle the leg of an assailant and pass out at the barrel of the bastard's pistol with a head full of poppies. The smoke is thick, the sand is warm. Jack takes off his boots, coat and hat to add to the fine comfort.

Taking his own drag again, Jack arches a brow at Norrington and his dreaming. Interesting reaction. "What was it a man such as yourself would dream of having this taste?"

Norrington: With his jacket long gone, the boots should go too. Stretch, toe wiggle! Almost a snuggle. You saw nothing.

"Just before you left my crew again, I had a dream where I tasted this. It was all very odd. I remember some parts of it very clearly, others not at all. You were there, I remember your hair and how your hands looked. You've scars here..." poke! "...and here." Lingerly poke.

Jack: Saw nothing indeed. Norrington certainly is friendly when drunk.

"Is that so? Odd sort of dream, indeed." So Norrington's convinced himself it was all a dream, has he? Poor poor man. Jack smirks as the Captain's indications of his 'imagined' scars land true. He pulls his shirt open and aside and does a mocking impression of shock. "So I do. You're no doubt skilled in some manner of soothsay, James Norrington." The sarcasm runs thick, but he can't help it. Jack takes another drag and chuckles to himself.

Norrington: Norrington is sociable when drunk, possibly even friendly. When stoned, he's downright cuddly.

"Very odd, in fact. Never had one like it before or since. I blame the water in the Nexus, can't really be all that safe. Fever dreams." He hasn't moved his hand away from the scars. It was a very vivid dream. Huh.

Jack: Jack is a touch friendly when high, himself. Just not quite so free with his hands as with opium. Still...with the right motivation...

It's been a few days since the pirate has let himself lay with his love. Not for lack of want, no. Just seemed the sort of thing that might complicate his decision making when deciding to return her to a less physically gratifying form. Being touched and remembering those terrible fever dreams of Norrington's is all a bit distracting in their own right. "Careful mate, or you'll find yourself repeating those strange dreams."

Norrington: "Just the one, Jack. There was only ever the one." His voice has gone low and rough. "Was it a dream, Jack? Or can you trace all my scars? Do you know where they are?"

Jack. Run. Run now. That terrible, intensity is back and if you don't shove him into the sand and bolt it will be turned towards you.

Jack: Running away is a fine and noble response to danger of all sorts. However, it's true also that nothing ventured ensures there's nothing gained. There's this palpable thrill to watching James Norrington let go of his self-imposed bonds of propriety and be free. Even if it's just for brief and fleeting moments. Even if it ends in anger.

"Would it trouble you if it were not a simple fabrication of your mind?" Jack moves his hand to touch the faded brand on Norrington, touching through clothing. "I've not drawn up charts, but I've memory enough for a few of your marks."

Norrington: Jack, you're a twit. You should've left. "At the moment, no it doesn't trouble me. And if I'm being perfectly honest, it is a bit of a relief to know I wasn't imaging strange trysts with pirates."

He arches into the touch, pushing up against Jack for just a moment -- before falling back against the sand and laughing. He's happy.

Jack: Well, that wasn't so terrible. And being pressed against is by far not the worst fate a man can have. "Come now. No shame in fantasies about me, mate." He grins, but it's a slow silly thing at the moment. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! Happens to the best."

To his credit, Jack is fairly happy as well. He's forgotten the bulk of his worries. He rolls to his side to trace lazy fingers over where he remembers scars being and give an odd sort of smile that might be called 'come hither' were he not so sloshed.

Norrington: "But, Jack, if it really happened, then it wasn't a fantasy, hmm?" Another wriggle and James lays back and lets Jack merrily do whatever he wants. "You've got good hands. Careful ones, I've always thought."

"...and you, only fair if you tell me. Do you dream of me, Jack? Captain Sparrow, hmm?"

Jack: "Ah. Fine point. Not a fantasy." Shirts are inconvenient and awkward things. Jack works his hand under Norrington's to feel over bare chest and stomach. Such a long and stalk straight man. It's insulting to nature. "Still... Always thought about my hands, have you?"

He chuckles softly, takes a last long drag of the joint and offers to share again, even though James seemed uninterested. "Twice. First was you...but not you. Another you. ... The second was after your dream that wasn't one. Let's not let that go to your head, eh, Jamie?"

Norrington: He takes and finishes what was left of joint, stretching and (purposefully?) letting his shirt ride up. "How could I not think about your hands? They're always moving, seem so careful, unlike mine." Norrington's hands are not thieves hands - once they could have been used for piano, but the sea has toughened them up considerably.

It's not fair, really. He is too tall and too straight, yet when Jack has his hands on him, James is able to stretch and twist like a cat. Do it again?

Jack: "I'm a careful man, mate. Delicate work to be done." He laughs and shoves Norrington's shirt up further. Then, finally, says to hell with it all and works to have the thing off entirely.

He runs rough, but oh so careful hands over the long lines of Norrington's torso and down to the border created by the man's trousers.

Norrington: "Jack, I don't think this is a very good idea." Notice how he's not moving away? In fact, he's being a most accommodating non-Commodore. Shirt is off! Who needs a shirt? Certainly neither of them.

Jack: "You're likely right." Jack's words are half mumbled as he wriggles free of his own shirt and balls it up to toss behind him. "I've always respected your judgment." Better to face Norrington for such serious talk. Another slight roll and Jack's propped up over James, balancing on his hands. "That is... unless you can live with a bad idea. Can you, Jamie? Can you live with a bad idea that feels bloody good? ... I've no worries at all, personally."

Norrington: "I could live with it, I just don't know if I should." Norrington looks up at Jack and seems to be actually, seriously considering this fact. "Other than your firm belief that I need to relax -- which I will not deny -- why should I?"

He's not being rude, just honestly inquisitive.

Jack: "Because I've not wronged you yet --lately. And because we could both do with the attention and the distraction, am I wrong?" It's quite possible that Jack has a tendency to seek out male partners when stress becomes too much or faces with uncertainty. One with interest in psychology might read into that, but he'd rather they not. What's worth noting, is that he is very uncertain and very stressed and now very much straddling Norrington.

Norrington: "I always, always play for keeps, Jack. Until now, I've had no reason to chase you, but this could change that. Will you risk it? Will you -dare-?" Uh-oh. Seems that someone has made his decision. A slow, almost wicked grin and James tugs the pirate closer - c'mon, let's do this then.

Jack: Jack's brow furrows. His brain is not the quick, wicked thing it normally would be just now. He's put himself at risk. Another wanting to trap him the way Pearl has. Ah, but that isn't so bad... It creates competition. As long as there are two to fight over him, neither has won. Brilliant. Jack grins and lets himself be pulled.

"Life's made of risk, mate. I can't be kept. D'you enjoy the chase?" He kisses along Norrington's collar and neck, feeling so very sure of himself.

Norrington: He growls and arches up against Jack, letting his hands wander over his back, across his ribs -- he's creating a map in his mind. "I do, Jack. The chase, the hunt, I love it."

"...and I know I can't keep you, I wouldn't want to. That won't stop me from trying." James lets his head fall back, showing off a long, cool, clean line of neck.

Jack: How Norrington can keep this animal caged inside the facade of a staunch and proper English gentleman, Jack will never understand. He shudders and lets out a small moan at the hands on him and the body below him. "Convenient, then, that I fancy escaping and being pursued."

"Never let anything keep you from going after what it is you want, Jamie. Never." Jack's lips trail kisses from Norrington's jaw, down the long stretch of neck, into the soft hollow at the base, and back again. All the while, his hands run over the Captain's sides.

Norrington: He -has- to keep it all caged away, don't you see that Jack? Otherwise who knows what could happen. Like, oh, working on opening a certain pirate's pants.

"I should think that you know that you are preaching to the choir about tenacity." Despite the word-of-the-day dialogue, when Jack reaches the base of his throat Norrington hisses and tries to pull Jack up for a proper kiss. Demanding little bastard, isn't he?

Jack: Clearly, terrible things could occur, yes. Not that they should stop. Jack sets his hands to opening Norrington's pants in return.

"You're a tenacious bastard, true enough. And me without the ship to outrun you." Jack fights being pulled for a moment, but remembers the way Norrington kisses. He relents and lets himself be brought up to kiss the tall man deeply. Surely he doesn't need Pearl to be a woman. He can find others to make him happy...others to love him. He'll forget her. Jack grinds his hips against those below him to stop his brain's worries.

Norrington: James kisses like he's drowning - something that should be worryingly familiar to both of them. As soon as they get each get their respective pants off, there's another (almost) growl and James tries to flip them. It will be easier if he's on top, honest. Something to do with his height. >_> Honest.

Jack: There's nothing to do for the desperate kissing but respond in kind. Jack certainly needs something. This may well be it.
Flipping them over isn't too terribly difficult. Jack was hardly prepared for it and Norrington is certainly the stronger of the two. That, and being out of control and without a plan is one of the ways Jack deals with stress: Create different stress.
He's flopped easily onto his back with James perched above him. "Well, this is interesting..."

Norrington: "I'd be rather disappointed if it wasn't interesting." Another sardonic laugh and he's moved to kiss and (gently) nip along Jack's collarbone. It sticks out at just the perfect angle, how could he resist?

A low, hungry hum in his throat and James starts to rock their hips together. There really does need to be more friction, more touching, more -everything-.

Jack: "It is that.." Oh, the biting again. Fascinating habit, Norrington's biting. Not exactly unpleasant, either. Jack arches a bit under James, wrapping his arms around to claw lightly at the man's back.

He moans greedily at the teasing bit of friction and raises his own hips up to fight for more. James was right. This is a bad idea. A glorious, warm, exhilarating bad idea. Mmmm.

Norrington: Norrington seems to want to lick and taste every part of Jack. Curious habit, don't you think? It's been over a year since he was whipped and nearly flayed, but his back will always be a strange, scarred place.

A very bad idea. If James balances just -so- and leans a little to the side, he might even be able to let a hand wander south?

Jack: The scars are an interesting texture. It adds something to running his hands over that skin. Jack works at memorizing it all: Heavier scars on this side. Lighter lower. He tries to work out where the man wielding the lash must have been standing, where he started and stopped and other things. He has fewer lash scars himself, and they were earned on various occasions.

It seems James can sneak a hand down between them. Oh, that is fine news. Jack's head tilts back into his sprawled mane of dark dreads . He moans loudly and trails his own hands down to grip at Norrington's ass.

Norrington: "Even now, you're still not quiet." James leans in to whisper a truly astonishing array of highly suggestive and surprisingly filthy comments -- which, quiet frankly, his typist is too embarrassed to reproduce here. Goodness, what an imagination the man has.

Jack: Jack laughs under his heavy breathing. He listens to Norrington whisper about acts he had no idea the former commodore was even aware of. Surely Norrington wouldn't dare? He arches his back and moves his hips to better move against James' hand. "Mmm. Such wicked words. Careful or I might hold you to them."

Norrington: He's a well read gentleman. Of course he knows about all sorts of things - even if he hasn't been to Singapore. "I rather suspect you might. I intend to make you want to chase me as often as I hunt you."

Jack: "Mmm. Motivate me." One hand moves up to grip at Norrington's shoulders and neck, fingers playing at the Captain's hair. The other hand slips fingers into the crack of James' ass to experiment with reactions.

Norrington: "What do you think I'm doing, Jack? Playing canasta?" He isn't entirely comfortable with where Jack's hand has gone wandering -- in large part that has to do with the lack of anything slick and the large abundance of sand they're laying on.

Jack: Jack lets out a breathy laugh that trails into a moan. James is doing a fine job, really. Jack is just terribly demanding. Despite how selfish he may be, though, he's not planning to shove sand into uncomfortable places.
He takes his hand from around Norrington's neck and sucks at his fingers, being sure to make a good show of it. Then he switches one hand for the other, bringing the dry hand up to rest at James' back now that he knows he won't be pushed away for this. And he won't be, will he? They are very careful hands...

Norrington: Very careful, Jack. You'd better be careful. He's still kissing the side of Jack's neck -- tomorrow he's going to find his neck peppered with tiny, faint bruises and bite marks.

"You're being terribly distracting, you do know that?"

Jack: "Dreadful habit." He moans and arches to Norrington's hand. Just a bit more. Jack's hands like to keep busy. Even if it's a touch distracting and may effect the pacing of his own pleasure. He'll wait for satisfaction to get more with it...like the look of a fondled and so gently violated James Norrington.
He tilts his head to leave a longer stretch of neck for James' attentions. The bruises won't trouble him any. Amuse him is more likely.

Norrington: "Yes, I'm complaining to the management. Sending in forms to London. In...in...fuck, yes...in triplicate." James stumbles over his own words a little and has to lean his head down again Jack for a moment.

He keeps working his hand, a little faster now, a little more sure. Just between us, James hasn't really done this for anyone else in a very long time.

Jack: "It will not be the first complaint made, I assure... oh..." Jack shudders as Norrington quickens his pace. He tries to keep near the same rhythm with his own hand, but the increase in speed silences him and puts him a bit off his game, as it were. He arches, tenses and gives a few shuddering thrusts as he climaxes.
Clearly, James does well enough.

Norrington: Well enough and he's always liked leaving a job well done. Smug, insufferable bastard that he is. "Good, Jack, you're very good."

Norrington keep smiling and waits for Jack to finish before leaning off to the side and just watching him.

Jack: Once he's finished, Jack collapses on the sand. He grins and stretches out like a great, dirty cat. "Mmmm...Yes... Very good."
He hums contentedly and slowly props himself up on his elbows to look at James through heavy-lidded eyes. Jack's grin is a lopsided thing that speaks volumes for the hedonism of the evening. "Shall I repay you in some fashion?" He rolls his hand idly in the air as recompense could clearly be made in any number of ways. "You've quite earned it, honestly."

Norrington: "I think I'd rather like it if you did." This James certainly isn't the one who joined Sparrow's crew and wouldn't belong working for the East India Trading Co. either. The man who died on the Flying Dutchman was a Norrington, but so very far from this sea-changed man.

Jack: "Thought you might." He sits up, stretching in long arcs and popping various joints, though they don't seem stiff at all in the way Norrington was knotted up. Jack may not be as relaxed as he appears a lot of the time, but he is very loose and limber... might be the drinking..or the whoring...or the only benefit of a permanent sort of ataxia. Who's to say?

"Lie back."
Jack makes a point to try and work all of the sand from his palms, but its quite a task with sweat. "I might have to be generous or risk smoothing your surfaces in an unpleasant fashion." Sand rubbed into such delicate skin repeatedly would be a cruel thing indeed. Jack moves between James' legs to kiss and lick his way over the man's chest and stomach; hips and inner thighs. He takes his time before running his tongue slowly along the underside of the tall man's prick.

Norrington: James moans and lets his hands fist at the sand. Generosity is always appreciated and often, in due time, repaid in kind. He doesn't bother to ask if Jack is okay with this, he trusts the pirate to care for himself.

"I'm ... you must know that I'm not too experienced with this."

Jack: "Your part in this is not particularly difficult, if you were worried." Jack is fine with it. So long as it's his choice to do, it's not a thing he even minds, really. He's even fairly good at it. Though, there are those who have argued his facial expressions ruin it if you watch him. That's only when he's already become bored or distracted. Now, as he uses one hand to hold the Captain's length steady and slides his soft, wet mouth down over as far as he's able, Jack looks almost peaceful. If it weren't for the slight, sly grin at the corners of his mouth, he would even seem something like innocent when he's unable to speak...