Jack stayed the night in the Lounge for Hunter's sake. He's been waiting for his giant to show up. The shine hasn't worn off the thrill of letting the young man fuck him. It's early yet, though Jack is impatient. Still, it surprises him when there's a knock at the door. Hunter is certainly chivalrous enough to knock when he knows damn well he's welcome, but he wouldn't be so early, would he? Ah well. Jack grins and swaggers to the door.

"Ha. Couldn' wait t'get yer 'ands on me, eh, luv? Can 'ardly blame you."

He pulls the door open, looking smug as ever. His weapons are missing. He wears nothing but his scarf, his half open shirt, and his breeches; one bare foot scratching at the back of the opposite leg.

Jack lays on his bed, trousers dangling around his ankles, and smiles coyly up at Hunter. It's almost as if the pirate were capable of being shy. He's not, though. He loves the way Hunter looks at him. He generally has to travel to unfamiliar territory to be looked upon as so completely exotic.
He laughs under his breath and idly fingers some of the beads dangling from his hair.
"Careful whot yer using as handles, eh? So long as nothing's snatched free, we're in fair territory."

It would please Jack to no end to have a painting done of him. It's been a very long while since he's had a portrait done that wasn't for a wanted poster, and he finds those to be grossly inaccurate. However, now is hardly the time. He wouldn't be able to hold decently still for the process.
He notes the cut and sturdy craftsmanship of the coat. His own was once military as well. He wonders, vaguely, if Hunter ever served, but doubts it. The man is far too young still. If he was ever military, he still would be. Particularly with that noble inclination of his.

"Only two trolls? Y'must 'ave been drunk."
He's not above compliments, even if he smirks a little wickedly through it. Teasing just a little. He stretches again and props himself up on his elbows.
"'M sure yer mum could 'ave handled the job all to her lonesome, though."

It took a great long while to accomplish, but Jack had finally done it. He had incorporated Pearl's assistance in driving the Mexican insane. She had to seem to turn Jack away. While he could have simply asked for the ship's assistance, Jack went for the more reliable tactic of angering her outright until she refused to share his bed. All it took was enough praise of his new boat. Some small mention of it's superiority to an outdated wooden vessel and she was duly furious.

Tossed from his bed and turned away by his true love, Jack went to weep on the great broad shoulders of his newest crewman. El questioned the captain's decision, but Jack explained that Bastiaan did not have the understanding of women that the mariachi did. He played his relationship with Pearl up to be far more rocky and terrible than was true. He tried to get pity out of El, but as soon as the pirate was laying in the Mexican's bed, El was wise to what was going on. Sands had tried to trick him into sex more than enough times for El to see it coming.

"Aren't you frustrated, though, mate? I could help with that. We'd both be better for it." Jack laid out on El's bunk, sprawling and trying to make himself look desirable. He watched the expression change to annoyed anger on El's face. Sands got this man to fuck him. Why couldn't he? They look the same and he has eyes and more sex appeal! Jack began to anger as well. He decided to get the man furious enough to abuse him. It had worked in the past, after all. "You bring no girls aboard. I know the boy's not servicing you."

That seemed to get El's anger up even more. Jack smiled.
"If he were, I would surely smell you on him when he comes to warm my bed, eh?"
Jack hasn't been having sex with Bastiaan at all, for the most part, but if it gets El worked into blind rage, all the better.

"You have sex with that boy?"
El had suspected as much, but wanted to believe otherwise. Bastiaan looks up to Jack, that was obvious from the moment he met the boy. It disgusted El to think that Jack would abuse that adoration in such a way. He stood and glared at the pirate captain spread out on his sheets. It was Sands' body and Sands mouth saying the same sort of terrible things Sands always said to get a rise from him.

"When the need strikes me, aye." Jack smiled. "Course, I'd not need to fuck Bastiaan if I'd another ... outlet." He propped himself up, shining that gold studded and smug grin.

El growled and turned his back on the pirate. It was a terrible thing that he looked like Sands. It made the mariachi both more enraged and more prone to forgive such a terrible crime.
"Leave, while I can still pretend you never said such a thing."

Jack pouted and sat up. He had tried everything he could think of. He had given up all other access to sex just to make this last attempt and it was failing as well.
"And why should you? Sheldon has done far worse things, I guarantee it, and you saw fit to sleep with him, eh? He said you were the best he's had. Said as much even after I'd fucked him savagely. Hardly seems possible from a man so withdrawn. I thought sure he'd given you to me to try, but you're being endlessly difficult. You'd rather I not go find my cabin boy to ease my loneliness? Then fuck me. Pretend I'm Sheldon if that's more to your fancy."
The pirate put up his very best Sands impression. "Stop bitching and fuck me, El."

The beating Jack received was terrible. All the same, he got his wish. He was left passed out in the bed as El left the ship. The mariachi asked Bastiaan to leave the crew with him, but the boy ultimately chose to stay. El considered it a pity. He would likely still help to defeat the greater tyrant that was ruling over the hotel, but he would not share space with the pirate any longer or serve him in any way. If Sands wanted to, he knew the man would find him. He would still be in the nexus.

----------------------

A day later, a bruised and uncertain Jack sits on the shore, drinking and watching the horizon. He somehow doubts it was all worth it. It's not as if he was never violently fucked out of anger before. He doesn't quite see what Sands found so spectacular in it. The man was good and there were enjoyable parts in it, but it was also painful and has left him sore and short a good set of hands to serve his ship. Damn Sands for trying to entice him into this. He'd have done better to leave it alone.

Jack occasionally feels it absolutely and unwaveringly necessary to see Sands. He's yet to properly celebrate his new lordship with his twin or discuss what's to come next. There was a certain degree of...'oddness'...afoot following his grand success and it's really gotten in the way of his gloating over it. Since recovering, however, he's not seen Sands around. Most times he would not risk knocking on the man's door --for fear of angering 'the husband' and having marital quarrels blamed on him-- but he's beginning to worry. More importantly, he's beginning to feel he isn't receiving his due amount of Sands' attention.

He knocks on the door, stands back to try and look nonchalant, then knocks again when there isn't an immediate answer. He is not aware Murdoc went out of the Lounge to get proper food, drink and entertainment for a child. He also isn't aware that Sheldon has been instructed not to answer the door. Really, he feels he's being snubbed. The repeated knocking now fails to seem casual at all.

"Look here, I've not come to have my wicked way with anyone. Only looking for a short chat, savvy?"

When Jack went to sleep, he was happily pressed between Pearl and Bastiaan. He had a title again, but almost more importantly, he had this comfortable position back again. He hadn't even realized how much he'd missed it. He had a bed full of soft, warm bodies and it was --as it should be-- aboard a ship. Jack had both titles back once more and more confidence than he'd felt in months. He thought he'd never sleep so well again. Certainly not while so sober.

It seems, however, that he still has much to learn about accepting gifts of congratulations from those who side with the enemy. Even if he was assured that the flying boy, in fact, hated the enemy and that the child was a god, some gods are mischievous and petty. If Peter is a god, he is that type.

Now, Jack wakes slowly. He nuzzles his small face against the warm back in front of him --mussing his hair worse than it already was-- and wraps his thin arm and leg around Bastiaan tighter. He wants to get up and find some great way to spend his day, but there won't be any such fun. There will just be more work. He's also starving, but there won't be food til he's earned it. So Jack tries to sleep more and if his mother will, then so will he.
But, as consciousness creeps in, he realizes it isn't his mother at all. It's not even a woman, so it's no babysitter. He spider crawls backwards across the bed until he bumps against another body...who, though female, is also a stranger.
He sits up, more indignant than frightened.

"Alright...Who are you? Tell me immediately! I'll scream! Scream so they think a woman's been murdered here!"
He sees the skill as an asset.

The odd day Jack has chosen to celebrate his coming into the world he's since gone out of has come and gone. He was left with a great deal to think about and more concerns than he'd started the day with. Not at all what he'd expected of a birthday. His recent cabin boy saw to keeping the pirate company that night, but the next day Jack sent Bastiaan away on errands. He needed time alone. He needed to decide the next move. What's an exposed king to do when the opposing queen has claimed so much of the board?
He's been sitting for hours, draped across the living room couch staring at the large, weathered chest the girl had gifted him and rambling bits of plans to himself as he works out the knots in his present situation.
There he sits. Drinking. Digging through his own past. And talking mostly to himself. He may not be certain how old he is, exactly, but he doesn't feel near old enough to die or give up.

"A fop and a git both. But could be a fine bit of leverage..." He shifts a bit of bone and a coin across the lid of the chest. Small, unmatched items litter the thing's top and somehow aid in this thought process, though it's unclear just how.
"A second Pearl... Not that's interesting. But how to gain her...."

Before any work can be done or voyages undertaken, James Norrington may notice on June the eighth that his navigator has gone missing. Along with the pirate, all charts he had ready access to seem to have jumped ship as well.

On the door to Norrington's captain's quarters, there is a note in Jack's quick and oversized penmanship.

Dearest Commodore,

It has come to my attention that tomorrow is my birthday. I have given myself a few days leave in celebration. I do hope you will see to attending the festivities tomorrow afternoon. I will even forgive you if you come empty handed and without gifts to pay me homage.
On the reverse of this page you will find a map. Make use of it and bring something fit to swim in, if you know how. They complain terribly when I go about swimming naked in their 'pool'

I will be quite put out if you do not attend.


A humble man in your employ,
Captain Jack Sparrow


With as oddly quiet and distracted as Sparrow has been the last couple of weeks, this may very well be the most communication he's had with his Captain in days. With any luck, the ship itself will keep silent about the sneaking on and off board ... and the 'borrowing' of the charts.

Gone walking. Don't worry yourselves. I'll surely tire or bore before long and be back again.

Jack lays sprawled on their bed, fully pissed on rum and near to passed out. His eyes are only open in lazy slits as he glances to his side to watch Pearl. Every time he looks at her, he's taken with just how gorgeous she is. It's beginning to be a problem. A problem, in that his near decade and a half of dedication to Captaining his ship at any cost has been derailed by an almost equal desire to keep this woman beside him. It's maddeningly frustrating, but he doesn't dare mention it to her. Might upset her.

So, since he has no means of taking his 'rightful place' on the sea and no other sense of the familiar around them, he tends to ramble long stories to her...most of which she knows. Several of which he's told twice since she became human.

"...there was no knowing that she was the owner's daughter and not, as assumed, a whore. Least, none that I took note of. ... Chinamen, though small, can be dreadfully strong. The old bastard had be on the street before I could defend m'self! Course, the opium may've been t'blame for that.. There were times I'd be tossed out an' not know for hours."
Jack grins whistfully and twists one end of his mustache.
"That's what this place truly needs... More opium."
It certainly solves problems like boredom and being bothered by the passage of time.

Jamie James Captain.

You may have taken notice of the absence of both my ship and myself. Fear not. We've only relocated. You'll find us at the Nexus Lounge, at present.

Oh! Nearly let it slip my remembering: My ship would --it seems-- like to make Paragon's acquaintance. A friendly meeting if he's not too busy. Promises have been made on my part. I should hope it won't be a problem.


Tam?
Things did not so much go as were planned. Unless there were plans I was unaware of.

A few days, yes? That's how long the witch in the Nexus had said it would take to work some magic in Jack's favour? Jack has been impatient in waiting. Even with a new commission working on a trade ship, and other ...odd goings on, he's had this promise forefront in his mind. He'll be restored to himself. Oh, certainly a thing like the length of a man's hair may seem a trifle to most. It would to Jack as well, except for the day and the reason he ceased in cutting his. Nearly fifteen years now he's done only the minimum in trimming to keep the mess out of his way. Dreads and braids keep a good deal of the length pulled up. The rest is cut uneven. He'd like it that way again.. He was robbed of it and of the visual evidence of how long he's been sailing under a black flag.

So, today, Jack waits at his beached and damaged ship for word from Tamarantha. He wonders if the potion will taste bad? Will the effects tickle or hurt? Should be interesting.

Now employed and on his way to regaining both ship and freedom, Jack heads towards the Nexus from the hotel he's been staying in; intent on finding some manner of fun, but finding it in wholly other ways than planned.

Captain Norrington was in the Nexus as well and had a run in with an unpleasant woman and the cursed fumes of her wine.

( And so, James runs into someone who might just be worse luck for him than the Whore of Babylon. )

Another meeting with James Norrington means another opportunity for a bit of the best mutual taunting and snarking Jack can find anywhere outside of talking to himself. The difference this time is that, when the prodding is only just getting good, ( serious business is actually dscussed and deals are made. )

He had made it to his ship when the wave hit. Not water, no, nothing so common or simple in its destruction. Some strange force. It left him feeling sick and disoriented and the Captain doubled over the table in his quarters.

Making his way above deck, Captain Sparrow found he was not only no longer in any port her recognized...it seems he's in no port at all. Simply run aground on some strange beach. His crew is nowhere to be found.
Only a scant few months since they named him "lord" and now he's stranded on some foreign shore. If he believed in karma, he might be concerned that it's caught up to him.

Instead, John Sparrow makes his way down from his ship to explore this place. Perhaps it's inhabitants are at least worth exploiting.

Sheldon,

As I'm back to myself once more, I fancy you'll be looking to kill me. I'd honestly rather you not, though I doubt you're much interested in my opinion.
The curse would have ended, same as it has, whether I sought to end it or no. There were others already going about the task before I came to it. Not so sure that helps my standing with you much at all, but I did think you ought to know.

If you want me dead, I'm not even sure there's much you can do for it. I also warn that I won't make it simple for you. However, I won't be hiding from you, either. I do ask that we talk this matter over like decent gentlemen before setting about murdering each other. Proper order to things and all that.

Should you be willing to meet to hear out my reasoning, do let me know. Otherwise, I shall simply know to be cautious and keep on my guard.

Pity. I really did rather like you.


Sincerely,
Captain Jack Sparrow

Once again, Jack had faced the devil of he sea, Davy Jones, and escaped with not only his life, but promise of his ship as well. And this time, the bargain did not come with a deadline for how long Jack is to keep his ship and his soul. An excellent bit of barter, really.

The only problem with this arrangement, is that he's no less dead and trapped than he was before the deal was struck. That seemed a minor complication, however, with his ship waiting for him. All he needed was to get to her and tend to her wounds. And so, Captain Sparrow set out on the remaining water of the nexus using a makeshift raft of an over-turned table and wielding a plank of lumber as an oar. Several times in his journey, as he followed the arrow of his compass, he was forced to abandon his vessel and tip the table to rid it of accumulating water and keep it afloat. It took half a day of this tiresome work before he finally reached the Pearl.

When he found her, run aground on the sand of the shallows as he tide slipped out, all of his fears and misery seemed to fade. She was as beautiful as ever, needing only some patching at the rails, gun-walls, and gun-holes as well as some mending to a few sails. He'd thought sure he would need to rig up a jury-mast and find a number of carpenters to set her sea worthy again.

The pirate scaled his beloved ship using some of the downed rigging and walked her decks for hours, simply taking in the beauty of his beloved Black Pearl before setting to the task of mooring her. It was a lot to manage as just one man on his own, but he was truly dedicated to it. Once the ship was secure, he went about finding what of her supplies and the contents of his quarters could be salvaged and what was lost to water damage.

Finally, he laid himself out on the sea-damp mattress of his berth and let the breeze blowing in through the shattered glass and splintered wood of the aft wall sooth him to sleep. Soon enough he would have his ship mended and find for her a crew. Little can be wrong in the world when Captain Jack and his precious Pearl are once again in each other's possession.

( Tarot )

Interesting. I think I'd rather the wheel of fortune or something. Not bad, though.
What does "meme" mean, anyway? Seems it's everywhere on all these surveys and questionnaires.