Being graced with a silent reaction throws Jack just slightly. He has grown accustomed to Norrington reacting strongly towards him and only the unimpressed stare -- it is quite the chilling stare, Jack has to admit -- is rather disconcerting.

Well then.

He is about to rise from the bed and begin collecting his boots when he hears Norrington question him, and then immediately retract the question. Ungracefully. Jack twists himself on the bed and cocks his head at the Commodore. Very interesting, this one. He studies Norrington's face to a brief moment, his own gaze piercing in a different way, and fights with his mouth to hold still into either a straight line or a small intrigued smile that Norrington can become so... discombobulated in his presence by one single inquery. That he himself made no less.

Jack raises a hand to gesture with. "Out loud?" he asks, to finish Norrington's bitten off phrase of 'I was just thinking -- '. He watches Norrington's face for another second for any hint of a reaction. Something to help him know where the sudden question came from, or moreso why Norrington finds it inappropriate to be asking.

"And are you to be doubting, mate, that Jack Sparrow can't read his own literary collections? Though I confess. My Italian is the better in the speaking than it is in the comprehensible enightenment of reading." He shifts his face slightly away from Norrington's gaze because it isn't in his nature to honestly admit to being poor at anything. "Just never got the proper teaching in that respect, I'm afraid."

He looks back to Norrington again. "What of your own fortune with the language, eh? Better go, I take it, then ol' Jack can do?"