James is unspeakably relieved when Sparrow seems to collect himself- it's comforting, allows James to gather his own frazzled wits somewhat further. However, the other man is still clearly rattled, his usual casual innuendo forced and flat, and that blinding smile distinctly dulled. But James cannot dwell on that, especially when Sparrow begins pacing about the room, drawing lazy patterns in the air with one hand as he muses on James's query.

But then there's the jibe he knew would come- decided to turn pirate after all?- and James's face twists into a grimace of its own accord as he fights down the ire that Sparrow's words produce. But really, he has not the force or the will to be angry right now, and instead settles on a chilly calmness as he answers.

'I am not a pirate, Sparrow, nor shall I ever be. I believe you know my views on the subject well enough to know that such an eventuality is utterly impossible. However,' he looks Sparrow in the eye, sees that strange openness there, 'I am a man of action, and it would not sit well with me to sit useless in a cabin when there is a deck under my feet and wind to be caught.' He's waxing a bit poetic there, which is odd- he shakes himself out of it.

'Futhermore,' and this is difficult to say, but somehow James feels that it must be articulated, 'I am a sailor before I am a Commodore- I will work where I can, and do my piece. If that place is a pirate ship... then so be it.'