James bites back a smile- it won't do to be too amiable all at once; he might shock Sparrow irreperably- and instead merely nods briefly in the pirate's direction.

'I do tend to be,' he says smoothly, 'It's rather an unfortunate tendency, I suppose, but useful when one is in the Navy. Tell me, Mr. Sparrow,' He leans back, regarding Sparrow as he sways before him, 'When do you ordinarily wake, if this is so early for you? Have I hours of sleep yet that I've been cheated of by my Naval precision?'

It's reassuring, to be back to this with Sparrow- the banter, the friendly jibes back and forth; it makes James feel much better about the entire situation. Last night's Sparrow he simply did not know what to do with, but this he can handle, and indeed enjoy. He turns to look around the cabin, surveying his surroundings; it's a cluttered mess, looking like a bizarre cross between an ordinary ship's cabin and someone's aunt's attic; with curious trinkets and instruments scattered here and there, apparently collected on his myriad journeys, a few books (James is surprised to see titles in French and Spanish as well as English) as well as the expected collection of empty bottles. It's a curious room, all in all, but it suits Sparrow admirably.