Gibbs spent another night inside. Jack's explanations for sending his first mate in have grown more creative, but Gibbs knows to let Jack be Jack. Besides, it's warm in here, the grub is good, and that old woman with the Voice is nowhere in sight (he hopes). A cup of rum-soaked tea and a slice of fresh ham make good company for the morning
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(the mun apologizes, sincerly, but the pup is an insistant bint sometimes)
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"Company's not a bad thing, miss. Joshamee Gibbs is the name."
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A bottle of rum stands near at hand on the table, but Jack's made enough of a concession to have added a pitcher of water and some bread, as well.
He's toying absently with his compass, watching it spin fruitlessly about.
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Jack flashes a sharp glittering grin at him, then goes back to looking at the compass.
"And a good morning to you, mate. It is morning, aye?"
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