He busies himself with the lines of the map for the voyage he plans out there as soon as his newly acquired guest gets settled away again. Or maybe he'll go and bring Norrington with them. Get out of the Caribbean for a while. Away from the stretches of these tiny islands and really out into open water. It's been too long since he let the Pearl fly. To feel the wind skirting about his feet on deck. And Norrington seems like he could use with a nice, relaxing trip to other sides of the earth.

Jack raises his eyes to watch Norrington's finger twirl over the table top before returning to the map, half listening to what he assumes is simply Norrington thinking outloud. With trade winds as they are, he could --

But then he hears the question. Feels his hand being turned over. Jack straightens a hard stare at Norrington -- the Commodore -- and then glances down at the brand. He still remembers getting it. The smell of canvas burning in the water as she drowned. But he isn't about to ever answer such a question honestly, not one the stories are better, not when they've agreed to no deal that Jack should be forced to answer.

"You make it sound as though s'bad thing to be pirate." He fixes the stare once again on Norrington. "What makes you think you'd would even understand my reasoning? Commodore."