James can feel his mouth twitch, a poor attempt to restrain the grimace which wants to break free.

'Well, Sparrow,' he says, his voice colder than he perhaps intended, 'that is the difference between us, is it not? Your... freedom is the freedom to be completely and utterly selfish. You can dress it up, make it seem great and noble, but that's all you are, when it comes down to it, and if I refrain from falling into that pattern myself, surely you cannot blame me.'

His voice had descended into a hiss, and he can feel his teeth clenched, grinding against each other. Why the sudden display of temper he cannot say; perhaps it's the sheer hypocrisy of Sparrow's ridiculous, self-aggrandising statements, perhaps it's irritation with the pirate attempting to blackmail him with rubbish about 'glimpsing his own fate.' He does not know, but he does know that such emotion will not do. He takes a deep breath, drawing in calming oxygen, closing his eyes momentarily.

'I have perhaps learned,' he says after a silence, his voice quiet and strained, 'that it is less profitable to go haring off after one's dreams and ambitions than to take the sensible road. That is all.'