James sighs resignedly as Sparrow makes his way over to the table- naught but a twitch of the lips in response to his thanks (and it's far from his nature to thank a pirate) and then the absentminded studying of a map (and it's a map of the Indies, at that- nowhere near where they are). It smacks of a calculated snub, and James wrinkles his nose.
'Very well; I had expected no less.'
His eyes on Sparrow, he pulls out a chair and sits opposite him, his ramrod-straight posture an almost ridiculous counterpoint to Sparrow's relaxed slump. He traces a finger over the table top.
'As for another question myself... there is one I should like answered, though I'd imagine you're as loath to give up that information as I was to answer your question.'
His hand roams further, until it reaches Sparrow's, and carefully he turns the hand over, exposing the shiny white scar tissue of the 'P' brand on his wrist. He makes eye contact.
'What made you turn pirate, Sparrow? You're an educated man, or so it seems to me, a fine sailor and strategist. So why this life?'
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'Very well; I had expected no less.'
His eyes on Sparrow, he pulls out a chair and sits opposite him, his ramrod-straight posture an almost ridiculous counterpoint to Sparrow's relaxed slump. He traces a finger over the table top.
'As for another question myself... there is one I should like answered, though I'd imagine you're as loath to give up that information as I was to answer your question.'
His hand roams further, until it reaches Sparrow's, and carefully he turns the hand over, exposing the shiny white scar tissue of the 'P' brand on his wrist. He makes eye contact.
'What made you turn pirate, Sparrow? You're an educated man, or so it seems to me, a fine sailor and strategist. So why this life?'