The pointed use of the word 'interesting' causes whatever small ire Jack felt as having his things rummaged through to dissolve. It is very true that he expected no else from Norrington, and indeed would have done the same in his place if positions were reversed.
Not that they could be of course. The Commodore would never let a known pirate, let alone one as grand and famous and crafty and handsome and -- well, Captain Jack Sparrow and the sum of all his attributes, at least -- onto his ship and into his quarters like Jack has done for Norrington. And even then Jack would be hardpressed to accept such an invitation. Surrounded by naught but Navy men who'd so much as run him through as they would look at him. He rather prefers the brig to such circumstances.
His mind flits back to his short sojourn aboard the Dauntless and the sharp watch Norrington kept on him then, as he was kept out to keep an eye on their bearings as he led them back to the Isla de Muerta. Strange in that, too, that the Commodore didn't simply request the heading and then throw him in the brig. Strange, indeed. And interesting. So very interesting.
Jack smiles a slow, devilish smile as he regards Norrington. "Is that a compliment I hear, my dead Commodore, that you think ol' Jack would be having enough brains to have such capacities as foresight and the like?"
He swaggers up to him, pushing close enough to share body heat, and leans around him for the vacated chair. "And I'd be most aggrieved to be discovering that you were suddenly being of the well-behaved sort. In fact I'd be counting on your penchant to get rather ill-behaved as it were." He raises his gaze to meet Norrington's dead on and murmurs throatily, "Did say how much we both like interesting."
Grabbing the chair from behind Norrington, Jack drags it around him and plops hisself in it right in front of Norrington. Twirling the banana hidden in his grasp, he peels it half-way and takes a first bite, making sure to do it as slowly as possible to raise some for a reaction. He's still smiling to hisself the entire time.
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Not that they could be of course. The Commodore would never let a known pirate, let alone one as grand and famous and crafty and handsome and -- well, Captain Jack Sparrow and the sum of all his attributes, at least -- onto his ship and into his quarters like Jack has done for Norrington. And even then Jack would be hardpressed to accept such an invitation. Surrounded by naught but Navy men who'd so much as run him through as they would look at him. He rather prefers the brig to such circumstances.
His mind flits back to his short sojourn aboard the Dauntless and the sharp watch Norrington kept on him then, as he was kept out to keep an eye on their bearings as he led them back to the Isla de Muerta. Strange in that, too, that the Commodore didn't simply request the heading and then throw him in the brig. Strange, indeed. And interesting. So very interesting.
Jack smiles a slow, devilish smile as he regards Norrington. "Is that a compliment I hear, my dead Commodore, that you think ol' Jack would be having enough brains to have such capacities as foresight and the like?"
He swaggers up to him, pushing close enough to share body heat, and leans around him for the vacated chair. "And I'd be most aggrieved to be discovering that you were suddenly being of the well-behaved sort. In fact I'd be counting on your penchant to get rather ill-behaved as it were." He raises his gaze to meet Norrington's dead on and murmurs throatily, "Did say how much we both like interesting."
Grabbing the chair from behind Norrington, Jack drags it around him and plops hisself in it right in front of Norrington. Twirling the banana hidden in his grasp, he peels it half-way and takes a first bite, making sure to do it as slowly as possible to raise some for a reaction. He's still smiling to hisself the entire time.