That tone of self-righteousness in Sparrow's voice is almost more than James can stand- no matter whether he's right or not (and he most likely is, says that damned irritating corner of James's brain)- and he can feel his proverbial hackles rising.

'I don't recall that mattering much to you before,' he mutters, fairly sure he's referring to the comment about keeping to their accord, though not entirely, which is unnerving. He tries not to think about Sparrow's comment about choosing sides. He had made his choice, sure enough, as a young man, though the choice between the clergy, a trade, or the military was not a difficult one, and certainly not the sort of choice Sparrow is referring to. Watching Sparrow, he cannot help but wonder what the other choice had been for him- he's lived on both sides, he said; who was he on the other side? Well, it's clear that Sparrow is in no mood to talk now, and neither is James, when it comes down to it, so instead he watches the other man steadily, settling back in his chair, even going so far as to prop his boots up on the table before him. Finally, he speaks.

'Am I to understand that you're to be sitting here all day, supervising me, Sparrow? Surely you're needed in some capacity out on deck.'