Well, that was... not what he'd expected. Not at all. A knowing grin, perhaps, a waggle of the eyebrows, some mocking comment about the Commodore's less-than-pristine past, perhaps even an insistence that he keep to his accord, honour his word. But a serious, understanding acceptance? Never would he have expected that from the pirate, not in a score of years.
But Sparrow's eyes on him are dark and thoughtful, and James thinks suddenly of the mutiny- he had made the mistake the night before of bringing it up flippantly, looking to provoke a reaction- and the reaction that he got was enough to decide for him that it was not something he would mention again, at least not in such a manner. Sparrow, perhaps, recognises a similar thing here, and it is, in a manner of speaking. Feeling Sparrow's hand over his heart he finally drags his gaze away from the spot on the wall and meets his gaze, bringing a hand up lightly to touch on Sparrow's before letting it drop and turning away entirely.
He paces a few steps about the cabin, drawing in breaths, and then looks back at Sparrow, who stands still where he left him. 'Thank you,' he says, meaning it. 'I must confess, I had not expected such a, well, considerate response.’
Sparrow’s words, though… he has an uncomfortable feeling that he will tell, before this journey- whatever it is- is up. For it’s not something he’s ever discussed with anybody, and now that the subject has been raised, he feels a bizarre urge to let go, to say what he’s dwelt on for so long. Not now, though. Perhaps later, but not now. Instead, he cocks his head to one side, looking inquiringly at Sparrow.
‘I suppose, then, that I shan’t be getting an answer to my question either? Unless you have another query to put forward in the last one’s stead?’
He really does want to know- he will not accept the offer without knowing the reasoning behind it, and he has a feeling that Sparrow would not take kindly to him scrubbing decks- why he could not say, but that was the way of it. The pirate seems to have a knack for disconcertingly discerning questions, but at the moment, James cannot see any other way to find out.
no subject
But Sparrow's eyes on him are dark and thoughtful, and James thinks suddenly of the mutiny- he had made the mistake the night before of bringing it up flippantly, looking to provoke a reaction- and the reaction that he got was enough to decide for him that it was not something he would mention again, at least not in such a manner. Sparrow, perhaps, recognises a similar thing here, and it is, in a manner of speaking. Feeling Sparrow's hand over his heart he finally drags his gaze away from the spot on the wall and meets his gaze, bringing a hand up lightly to touch on Sparrow's before letting it drop and turning away entirely.
He paces a few steps about the cabin, drawing in breaths, and then looks back at Sparrow, who stands still where he left him. 'Thank you,' he says, meaning it. 'I must confess, I had not expected such a, well, considerate response.’
Sparrow’s words, though… he has an uncomfortable feeling that he will tell, before this journey- whatever it is- is up. For it’s not something he’s ever discussed with anybody, and now that the subject has been raised, he feels a bizarre urge to let go, to say what he’s dwelt on for so long. Not now, though. Perhaps later, but not now. Instead, he cocks his head to one side, looking inquiringly at Sparrow.
‘I suppose, then, that I shan’t be getting an answer to my question either? Unless you have another query to put forward in the last one’s stead?’
He really does want to know- he will not accept the offer without knowing the reasoning behind it, and he has a feeling that Sparrow would not take kindly to him scrubbing decks- why he could not say, but that was the way of it. The pirate seems to have a knack for disconcertingly discerning questions, but at the moment, James cannot see any other way to find out.